I know, I know. Long time, no type. To be honest, life hasn’t been hard. It has been filled with some of the most wonderful things lately! Which also means: Satan is attacking from every angle. There’s been so much I’ve wanted to encourage you with, but to be honest, when it came time to share… the lies started showing up.
No one cares.
You’re broken, and shouldn’t be giving advice.
There’s so many more qualified people then you.
So yeah, that’s been fun. Some days I’d believe it, and the days where I didn’t, I’d feel so tired from getting them out of my head. What made them disappear long enough for me to have a heart to heart with Jesus is this little book every woman has now heard about: Girl, Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis. If you haven’t read it yet, stop what you’re doing. STOP. Open Amazon. ORDER IT NOW. I am a frugal woman, but holy holy holy is this book worth every penny. In summery, the book is about lies she used to believe about herself. From lies about being a bad mom to lies about being a bad author, it’s an encouraging read. If you have deep pain in your life (loss of a child, physically abused, etc.) this book won’t heal your hurt. It is meant to encourage you and that what we create is purely based on attitude and mindset… which is exactly what I have been lacking. The own lies in my head have been holding me back, and I finally feel the green light from God to share the lies that have held me back from living my best life. If you are a sensitive person, my new few posts may not be for you. If you are a perfect person who doesn’t believe anything outside of a church building can be from God, then my new posts won’t be for you. If you are just judgmental to the core and fishing for any way to make yourself feel better about your own life, you may enjoy them, but they still aren’t for you. They’re mostly for me. For the 10 year old me – all the way up to the yesterday me. They’re for anyone who thinks they’re the furthest from God. They’re for anyone who doesn’t look like the angels on the cover of a children’s bible. They’re for the girl who just added another tally to the number of people she has been intimate with. They’re for the person who just got out of jail. We have more in common then you will ever know. But above all, what we all have in common is a God who sent his son to cover it all. So let’s cover it.
The lie: sex will make me lovable.
I have wanted to be married since I found out what marriage was. I wanted a wedding – where the focal point was me and my epic wedding dress. I wanted to be with the same person for ever and ever and ever. First it was a fictional character (probably The Beast or John Smith or Prince Eric). Then it was a boy in my second grade class. Then it was anyone who had a crush on me. If you think my standards are low – haha – they get much worse. I thought this was normal, until I said it out loud as an adult, and realized my childhood was very not normal.
My obsession with marriage and happily ever after was shattered when I learned what the word, “divorce” meant. The kids at school taught me. But divorce wouldn’t happen in my house – not my parents, no way. Yes way. My parents (bless them) were on again and off again for many years until they both did what was healthiest for them, and got divorced. Now as an adult, I am so thankful for their choices – because they have brought two wonderful step parents into my life. Two great people who love my son so well, and we are blessed by them tremendously… but eleven year old me couldn’t see that far into the future. Pre-teen me could only stretch my eyes far enough to see tabloids of celebrity couples breaking up because HE CHEATED. Pre-teen me would pass by movies where the only reason a couple broke up was because of an infidelity. Pre-teen me decided marriage wasn’t the plan anymore. The ultimate goal became to have someone love me enough to not want to have sex with anyone else. At eleven, this was my goal.
Sex will make me lovable. I thought by waving my Christian girl flag, I could fool some poor dude into being stuck with me. I didn’t understand the gospel, or anything about Christianity, except that the Jonas Brothers wore purity rings – and a guy that wore a purity ring probably wouldn’t be addicted to sex. I was very wrong. I had a lot of “boyfriends” (basically crushes that I made hold my hand and declare their love for me on MySpace.) Some were sweet and could not handle my crazy. Some of them crazy and made me insane. No one knew what I was going through. No one knew that when I found out my boyfriend had sex with someone else, I threaten to commit suicide. No one knew that Satan was waving his banner next to mine. The bubble of counselors and people that knew that was so small, and I felt my mental state around sex healing, that I honestly thought it would never happen again. I hid it so well, from my best friends, from most of my family, from everyone.
I knew the words, “give your life to Christ, and he can heal you.” But this was one of the things I hid behind my back as I went to any alter. I could pray with confidence, using all the correct terms, and serving the church. But in the back of mind would be a broken record about the importance of sex.
My husband, bless him. He doesn’t know the magnitude of the crazy I was before him, but he does an epic job of leading me back to what the Lord says now. When we met, I knew I wanted to marry him. Not in the fictional character, happily ever after way – in the I want to be broke with you, have all your babies with you, travel the world with you, and die with you kind of way. He was/ is the most attractive person I’ve ever seen, and beyond that is smart, kind, easy-going, responsible, funny, and creative. He sparked my heart into believing in marriage again. I remember when we were dating, I was irritated that he didn’t ask me the question ALL guys had asked me: “How many people have you slept with?” I thought maybe he didn’t ask because he was embarrassed of his own answer. It was killing me, so I finally asked. When I did, I immediately regret it. Not because of his answer, but because of what the question means. As if some number holds any value to who we are in the eyes of God. As if some number will determine if someone else is worthy of your love.
This isn’t my story, but it has been a part of mine since I heard it:
“The preacher stood in front of the church and said this rose is your purity. With each pluck of a petal brings death to the flower. It is now wilted. It is no longer beautiful. Who would be proud of having a flower like this? It took everything in me not to scream, JESUS WANTS THE ROSE! He loves her! HE DIED FOR HER AND YOU’RE DRAGGING HIS DAUGHTER FOR RELIGION. JESUS WANTS THE ROSE!”
I had never felt worthy of a healthy sex life, a healthy marriage, and most certainly the cross. However plucked your flower is, you are worthy of a happy life. However your parents shamed you into thinking your sexuality is your ticket into heaven, that shame you are living in has created your own personal hell on earth. The enemy does not want you to know that there is SOMEONE out there who is faithful. There’s someone made for you, to grow with you, and be patient as you grow into yourself.
Maybe you’re sitting here, having been cheated on. Maybe your children have different dads. Maybe you’re addicted to porn and can’t seem to kick the habit. You’re not alone my dude. You’re not alone my sister. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. Your spouse may have cheated on you, but they ultimately cheated on God. You are not responsible for the sin of others. You may have a complex family tree, but that does not make that tree anymore incapable of bringing truth, grace, hope, and love to others. You may be addicted to porn, but there is nothing too dark that His light can’t redeem.
We’re not that special, y’all. We are not capable of making life without God. We are not capable of loving without Him. We are not capable of healing our addictions without Jesus. Say it with me, “JESUS WANTS THE ROSE.“