To Ring, or Not to Ring?

Okay, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about my blog—and about me—but sometimes I like to get personal without getting personal. I’m open about how I feel about issues, but I avoid saying what led to those feelings through using phrases such as “certain situations” or “recent events.” Frankly, most of the time there isn’t a particularly juicy personal story behind the comments I make. But even if there were, I don’t want my life to be the focus of my blog—or anything I write—I want it to be on providing thought-provoking, and, I hope, entertaining comments on life lessons. I’m just not the self-promotional type.

At this point you’re probably wondering where all this fanfare is going. You’ve also likely figured out I’m about to get more personal than usual. Yes, I’ll be discussing an issue I can’t address without being more open: my decision not to have sex until marriage, commonly known as a commitment to abstinence.

People who have known me for years are well aware of my feelings on “this issue”; I’m a huge proponent of it. One of my goals is to publish a book about it for teenage girls, which I’ve started, and maybe sequels for the general public and young adults. But despite my enthusiasm for it, sometimes I’m hesitant to share my thoughts outside my comfort circles. However, I recently joined an online group for people committed to the cause that got me thinking about why I can be so hesitant to discuss something I’m supposedly so passionate about.

My biggest fear is not so much what people may call me—I haven’t had a problem being referred to as a “sexually repressed prude”—I’m more concerned with how it will affect people’s perceptions of how I view them. A study recently released showed more than 90% of (adult) Americans have had sex before marriage ( See http://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory?id=2738640 ). Although the accuracy of this statistic can be debated, it is fair to say that more people than not are having sex—including people who don’t believe in having it. Thus, I avoid using terms such as “Purity Commitment” because I fear—and have actually had people say—that such comments implicitly mean that anyone who has had sex outside of marriage is “dirty”—which is a total mischaracterization of my opinion that I am more than happy to avoid.

I’m also afraid people will think they can’t relate to me, and ignore what I have to say about sex—and “other related issues” (okay, let me stop). As you might know, when people find out you’re a virgin in your mid-twenties, adverse reactions abound. The comment is usually met with skepticism, the next question being “well, if you haven’t had sex, what have you done?” and then my answer to that question starts another firestorm.

But truthfully, I shouldn’t be afraid to share my commitment--which I also call a testimony--in uncomfortable situations. It doesn’t mean I need to declare I’m a virgin just because, but it should mean that when I’m given the opportunity to share my experience I shouldn’t shy away.

One reason I’m so passionate about discussing abstinence is my criticism of the Christian community’s approach to addressing premarital sex, which often hinders children from making biblical commitments to abstain. They are often taught, indirectly, that singleness is a miserable state that needs to be quickly transcended so that marital bliss—and, apparently, hot-steamy sex—can begin. As a result, so many never really experience the true joy of abstaining; they see abstinence in terms of a list of what physical acts can—or cannot—be done to still stay in the “pure” category. Questions such as “Is oral sex okay?” or “how much clothing can I take off?” dominate discussions about abstinence. Even the term “abstinence” (which I hate, but use for lack of a more universal term, as I’ve said before), focuses on the act of not having sex—not on what refraining from having sex should mean.

The real way to look at a biblical commitment not to have sex isn’t “what am I missing?” but, rather, “what am I gaining?” This means that for every physical act I choose not to do outside of marriage--sex being seen only as the outer limit--I am gaining something higher—at least in a spiritual sense. As has been said many times, God designed sex to be an expression of unconditional love to a person He has provided for you in marriage, which is also the ultimate human commitment to another person on earth, and a symbol of the love God has for His children (Ephesians 6:25). I also see “abstinence” as a critical way to show a commitment to God rather than the world (Galatians 5:19-25). By not having sex, I don’t feel I’m depriving myself of pleasure (an evanescent kind, at best); I see it as being willing to settle for nothing less than true love both in and out of a bedroom—or no sex.

The online group I joined recently reminded me of an inner debate I’ve been having about whether to celebrate my commitment with a purity ring. In the past I was skeptical of getting one because too often I’ve seen them displayed as empty symbols that are hastily purchased and soon discarded by people who don’t understand the gravity of the commitment. But after learning so many lessons about what the choice actually means, and soldering through the hormonal teenage years and the “Hook-Up Central” that is college by God’s grace, I know that with Him I can overcome any sexual temptation—even “love.” A ring, then, would be a symbol of my testimony.

This blog is my first step to being more open about my commitment—where God calls me to be…so, should I get a chastity ring? I think you’re about to see one on this woman’s finger.

The Unveiling of the 25-Year Plan: My (Proposed) Path to Owning It at 50

Some of you have heard me talk about it, perhaps what you thought was in jest. But no, I’m serious: My 25th Birthday is really the start of something Big—my 25-year Plan.

Sunday will mark my Quarter-Century year on earth—kind of. Not to be technical, but, as I learned in dreadful Property class last year, your birthday is actually the first day of your next year—in my case, my 26th year. But I’m sure even if you knew that you don’t really care, and, quite frankly, it pretty much messes with conventional modes of expressing birthday cheer (“happy first day of your 26th year” sounds terrible). ANYWAY, another reason this year is significant is that it’s halfway to 50, a year many people—especially women—dread.

We all kind of know why people don’t like it: it begins the “Golden Years,” a euphemistic category for Senior Citizenhood—okay, fine—Old People Status. It says “aging” in a way “the new 20”, age 40, didn’t. It’s more closely associated with weight gain, significantly grayer hair, impending retirement, poor bowel movements, and, also unlike the 40s, universal menopause, to name a few measures of doom. And somehow, those 10% Tuesday discounts at department stores and restaurants are but a small consolation for those who wear the Old Person Badge.

But does 50 really have to be viewed with such morbidity? I, my friends, say no. And, as one of America’s Sweathearts said on her supposed day of doom, on my 50th Birthday (or the start of my 51st year, whichever you prefer), I want to be able to throw my hands up, look to my left, look to my right, flip my vibrant, flowing hair, pause for a moment, then scream at the top of my lungs, “I’M FIFTYYYYYYYYYY!!!!” (I’m referencing Oprah, by the way).

Okay, so maybe I’m getting a little carried away, but the point is, we don’t celebrate aging—age—enough. We think impending death, when we should be thinking delight. If you make it to 50, you will have survived many things—childhood milestones, adolescent adventures, the roaming 20s, the more stable thirties, the fabulous 40s and now—another decade to look forward to, all with a kind of wisdom that can only be gained with many years of life experience. Proverbs 16:2 says, “Gray hair is a crown of splendor, it is attained by a righteous life.” Proverbs 20:29 also says, “The glory of young men is their strength, gray hair the splendor of the old.” There is certainly a correlation between years and understanding that we in our 20s just haven't seen yet.

I guess this stump for old age is more appealing to an older audience, but I sing the praises of those fifty and over to make this point: when we reach that milestone, we have more control over who we are than we would like to admit. A major reason people feel so depressed at 50 is because they’ve done so many things since 25 that they could have done without: cemented poor eating habits from childhood, didn’t plan for the future until it came, abandoned close friendships for frivolous reasons (like the guy or girl who split after a year of “forever”)—just generally chose not to improve the things they couldn’t stand about themselves, and made age the scapegoat. But I do not want to be in that number. Here are a few elements of my avoidance strategy, known as the 25-year plan:

• Eat Healthier
I’m not the biggest junk-food eater, but I can do better. This will be
a gradual one, with more refined goals each year
• Establish a workable exercise routine
• Communicate (e.g. email, phone, facebook) with good friends in far places once a month
• Plan a yearly get-together with the girls from far and wide
• Stay on budget
• Jumpstart my writing/journalism career
• Learn how to do my hair
• Be open to God changing my plans:)

These are, again, just a few of the things I plan to do on my path to celebrating 50, but I think it’s a good start. The key, of course, is continuity; the plan must be a lifestyle.

Granted, it’s impossible to avoid some aspects of aging—increased risk for disease, more difficulty doing everyday things and—most sadly—the death of loved ones we would have lived with for so long. But, much as we often hear even now, the trials we experience do not have to define adversely who we are—at any age.

…so God willing, if I’m alive in 25 years, I won’t be afraid to scream “I’M FIFTYYYYY!!!!” at the top of my lungs. But in the interim—the lonnnggg interim—ask how my 25-year plan is going…