We’d been married only a few months when I realized something was wrong. Physical relationships outside of marriage had been my status quo for years. Honestly, I assumed that part of marriage would be easiest for me. So I was totally shocked when I shut down. And my husband? Completely hurt. Neither of us knew what was going on, therefore neither of us knew how to fix it.
And so we struggled for the first six years of marriage. When others made off-hand, joy-filled comments about the wonders of their sex life, my husband and I avoided eye contact. Resentment built up. Feelings of inadequacy drove a wedge between us. We were married and lonely and there wasn’t anyone out there talking about our problem: the potential long-term affects of promiscuity on a marriage.
As believers, we might admit that we had sex before marriage, but to admit that we had sex indiscriminately? No way. Or that we had sex without relationship, or relationships based upon sex? That’s too much candidness. Better to stay silent. And broken. And alone.
Why Can’t We Pretend it Never Happened?
In an effort to fix myself and bring peace to our bedroom battles, I threw myself into Scripture. While studying the greatest commandment, it occurred to me that I could love with four parts of myself: body, soul, mind, and heart. I decided it was easier to focus on the ones I did well, so I channeled all my efforts into emotional and spiritual intimacy. If I was a Jesus-superstar and incredibly intuitive and conversational, then maybe the need for physical intimacy inside marriage would decrease.
My husband disagreed with my method. Because of this, we kept arguing—a lot. Our arguments left us turning out the lights and turning our backs to each other. We both hurt for different reasons and neither of us seemed to be able to fix the marriage. We started finding our validation from different things–work, friends, raising kids. We were headed for divorce and we both knew it. Sadly, divorce sounded a whole lot easier than trying to heal. Had it not been for the Lord meeting with me quite intimately one weekend, I think I would have opted for the easier path.
Instead, he invited me into healing.
Since I refused to live in a marriage like ours for the next fifty years, I began to learn the language of intimacy. What I learned is this:
Body + Soul + Mind + Heart = all of us. In order to experience true intimacy with our spouse, we must surrender all parts of ourselves to the Lord and His Spirit. The truth is that I cannot love my husband well in my brokenness. But I can surrender my brokenness to the Spirit and ask Him, every morning and every night, to love my husband well through me.
I also had to come to terms with the truth that physical intimacy is a vital part of marriage. Love is intended to be a demonstration, not just a feeling. We can read the infamous love chapter in 1 Corinthians 13 and find that every single way Paul describes love requires an action of sorts:
Patience? Not an emotion. A demonstration.
Kindness? Again, something we are able to see in action.
Love honors and serves; it stays humble and forgives.
That’s a whole lot of demonstrating.
So if I apply the truth that love is a demonstration to marriage, what can I do? Sure I can pick up socks, wash clothes, and cook dinner. I can work to bring in extra income and serve alongside him in ministry, but at the end of the day there is one way—a way specifically designed for marriage—in which I can demonstrate my love for him.
Sex.
For this reason, it seemed imperative to find healing.
Where Do You Start for Healing?
I hate flying. Really, I do. I try to rationalize and reason. I know the statistics and the scientific reason behind turbulence. Prior to 2010, no issues. But then I had a couple flights that were too much to handle and I’ve never been the same.
So, if you’re ever next to me on a flight, most likely you’ll find me sitting with perfect posture, both hands gripping the armrests not caring if the other one is mine or not, afraid to breathe, and counting the minutes until we land.
Because I believe turbulence promises death, fear has me paralyzed.
Promiscuity had the same affect on intimacy.
I found myself paralyzed, unable to reciprocate physical intimacy. Thus, the first part of healing was to trace the path of paralysis to find where it originated. What was I afraid of?
Since fear is often based upon lies, it was time to identify them.
A Limited List of Lies Told by Promiscuity:
When relationships ended abruptly and sex had been involved:
- I was disposable.
- There was a large possibility my naked form was repulsive.
When self-inflicted physical abuse went beyond sex and embraced drugs and alcohol:
- Substances create a numbness that should be part of the sexual experience.
When a relationship with a boyfriend overlapped his relationship with someone else:
- I am not enough and there’s always someone else willing to fill the gap.
When I discovered pornography was synonymous with promiscuity:
- If I want to keep a man’s attention, I must perform well enough that pornography isn’t needed.
- Performance, performance, performance would secure love.
When substance abuse became more than I could afford. Or sex seemed to guarantee security:
- Sex is a commodity. Trade it wisely.
Once identified, I was able to take my head knowledge of the Scriptures and rewrite those lies with truth. I knew I wasn’t disposable; I had been bought with a price. I knew numbness wasn’t God’s design for intimacy, so I prayed for my callousness to soften and for trust to trump self-protection.
But there was one last lie I had to overcome–one that kept trying to convince me to quit altogether:
- You are too broken for healing.
I share these lies candidly for the purpose of sparking a conversation within your marriage. We don’t speak about this in the church–and I hope that changes–yet it has been the open and raw communication between my husband and I that has brought healing. He walked with me every step. He demonstrated patience the nights I just couldn’t love him. He honored me while knowing my past.
I pray for your journey in healing today. I pray for your first steps. And I want you to know that we walk together. You aren’t alone. There are thousands of us out there and our brokenness is not too much for our Healer.
As you go about purposefully rewriting the script of your marriage and physical intimacy, start small. Maybe a hand upon the back while you’re in bed. Or reaching out to hold hands while you walk down the street. Invite God’s Spirit to demonstrate love and invitation through you in small ways everyday.
And stick this truth on a notecard by your bed: Love is found where freedom rules, and freedom exists within the boundaries of truth.
For more on the conversation of healing from promiscuity, join me at promiscuityundone.wordpress.com
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