I talk about sex a lot. In public, none the less. And I love it.
As the demand for this particular talk has grown, and as I’ve bravely shared my own messy story, the regularity with which I get asked awkward questions has grown too. I love that part too.
It has afforded me the opportunity to wrap my arms around sexually broken women, cry with them, and pray freedom and healing over their lives.
I’ve been asked repeatedly over the past few months what I think about the fifty shades of hysteria that’s exploded while the world waits for Hollywood’s rendition of the “mommy porn” trilogy. So I figured I’d take this opportunity to emerge from the woodwork and add my voice to the cacophony.
In the spirit of a glittery, rose-hued February, I thought a free chapter of my book was in order. What better way to spell out my thoughts on porn & erotica than to present you with chapter 14… aptly entitled “Fifty Shades of Counterfeit” (oh yes, yes I did)…wrapped in a big red bow. You’re welcome.
I also wanted to toss out a few thoughts for you to chew on as the promotion of this movie shifts into high gear; a perspective you may not have considered yet.
Just chew on the meat, as my mother says, and spit out the bones.
Firstly, I’m thrilled that the church is weighing in on this topic. While I’m sure there are plenty of ridiculous conversations occurring, there are also some very good ones taking place. Wise ones, like this one and this one. Funny & informative ones like this video. This fantastic post. And this cautionary one.
These are, after all, incredibly important and necessary issues to unwrap.
So I’ll leave these conversations to those very capable voices, and start another.
Let me open by saying this: we should enter this arena, like any other, with the grace and humility that Jesus did in John 8. There he is, this untamed Savior of the world, teaching in the temple courts when the Pharisees drag in a woman caught in adultery. Here she is, ripped from her lover’s arms, ripe with shame, most likely stark naked, and suddenly on trial. Unfairly alone she stands, painfully aware of the heavy stones strewn on the ground around her. Judgment is about to hit hard.
And then there’s Jesus. He knows all about her and her glaring sin. Every single thing. And yet he loves her. Entirely. He sees her sin, yes, but above that he sees her brokenness and her humanity. He sees her desperate need for a redeemer. And her potential for something far more beautiful than this mess she’s in.
She is, after all, his beloved.
The religious folk are champing at the bit to stone her – to unleash all their self-righteous fury onto her obviously unclean flesh – when Jesus makes a simple statement, “let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Not one of them is left with a stone to throw.
The only one righteous enough to cast a stone does not. Instead he calls her out, and then calls her up. Out of sin and brokenness and up into a life of hope and wholeness.
He offers her the deal of a lifetime: her counterfeit experience of pleasure for true intimacy with him.
And this right here is why we need to tread carefully around these mottled shades of grey. Not because the issue isn’t an issue (because it’s really quite black and white), but because, more often than not, we resemble the Pharisees when stepping into these conversations, rather than the Jesus we claim to follow.
Yes, there’s a place for concern and disgust and parental terror (let’s be real now)…but might there be room for grace in this place? Where in this dark conversation might we be brave enough to invite a little light?
I haven’t really weighed in on this “grey” conversation in a broad, public forum (apart from in my book) for one primary reason: because there are real, raw hearts hanging in the balance. And when we waltz in with guns blazing, full of holy piss and vinegar over the fact that blatant porn is being celebrated as trendy mommy fiction, we risk slapping labels on every woman who has read it. We apply a prickly Band-Aid to a rampantly growing cancer; fractured marriages, disconnected families and more empty, unfulfilled women than we’ll ever truly know. They’ll fight for signs of life, at any cost.
Apart from the fact that I was almost one of ‘those’ women, these precious people are my clients and my neighbors and my friends. I love and respect them. They’re women with a story and a heart and a deep ache for something vibrant and real. Something more scintillating and satisfying than what life may currently be serving up.
For the record, the first book in the series sat quietly in my Kindle cart – in the name of research – until I reluctantly removed it days later. I managed to convince myself that, due to the trail I’d blazed in this minefield years earlier, the risk far outweighed the temporary benefit of surging libido and gossip-worthy tidbits. My neurochemicals had just started to behave. I didn’t need to go carving out those old pathways again.
But the temptation to throw myself into the excitement was there in all its stiletto’d glory, and it took incredible restraint to turn my back.
So I get it, I really do.
Let me paint the picture this way. If I were to find myself hopelessly overweight – whether due to a lack of activity, an overabundance of nutritionally-devoid munchies or a medical condition – and was suddenly offered an enticing magic pill that could make me look like a supermodel without the work of exercise and carefully planned meals…I’d totally be tempted. Fo’ sho’. Sign.me.up!
A quick fix, even when it’s a destructive counterfeit, will always get our attention. We’re a microwave nation, and we want instant results and satisfaction.
The problem arises when we discover this quick fix we signed up for comes with several uninvited, here-to-stay side effects. Because, well, they forgot to mention that this magic pill comes with liver failure, fatigue, hair loss and kidney stones.
Or, as Jonalyn Fincher so aptly describes in her fabulous article, it’s like going shopping when you’re hungry. Every unsavory, artery-clocking piece of junk looks gourmet simply because we’re starved for true nutrition-filled satisfaction.
You get the point.
We live in a sexually saturated world while many marriages are sexually starving.
I can’t imagine how perfect a solution this trilogy must have seemed. Here’s this sensational new series being recommended by reputable doctors and celebrities…the perfect quick fix for a lackluster sex life or stalled libido.
So what do Jesus, stones, hunger and Anastasia Steele have to do with each other? Well, nothing.
And everything.
It boils down to our compulsion to make simple a very complex problem, by either sweeping it under the rug or by pointing a judgmental finger in its general direction. We recognize that the main culprit here is not the content, but the consumer – seeing demand fuels production – but our methods alienate rather than redeem and nurture.
Here’s the deal: we are sexual beings, hard-wired to crave intimacy and sexual connectedness with another human being, and when those needs aren’t met in a deeply fulfilling, mutually satisfying way, we take that search for satisfaction elsewhere.
I love the way our old pastor used to define sin. He said it was “meeting a legitimate need in an illegitimate way”. We cannot afford to forget the ‘legitimate need’ part of this equation.
We were created for emotional, spiritual and physical connection, and we’re going to do whatever it takes to satisfy that need. Along with this intense desire for satisfaction we’re called to lay down our lives, practice self-control, and keep our priorities straight…none of which are easy or convenient.
This is where cheap counterfeits become so attractive.
This issue isn’t superficial. It’s systemic. And it’s been deep-rooted in our flesh since the beginning of time.
As long as we keep trying to lop off the fruit of this twisted tree, while throwing shame and accusation at those caught in its branches, we miss out on the opportunity to dig deep and examine these root issues. What a golden opportunity we have before us, if only we’ll be brave enough to take it.
Branch-lopping results in condemnation and isolation, while uprooting these deep heart issues is where healing and freedom can be found.
Sure this series and movie concern me. They concern me greatly. Not because of what our world is coming to – after all, Solomon lamented that there was nothing new under the sun – but because our minds and bodies are being conditioned to respond to a counterfeit, while losing their taste for the real thing.
Yes, this series sells graphic porn and degrading sexual practices (you can read my take on erotica and pornography here), and yes the actual writing leaves much to be desired (so I hear), but there’s so much more going on behind the scenes here.
No, I don’t think it’s a wise movie to watch. In fact you should run, run fast in the opposite direction. Go hop into bed with your spouse and enjoy the real thing.
And yes we absolutely need to have this crucial conversation with our curious teens before we lose our credibility on the subject. If we don’t speak up, the corrupt voice of the world will be happy to fill our shoes. And yes, we need to communicate that degradation, humiliation and pain have no place in a healthy sexual relationship.
But if all we, as Christians, are going to do is get our holy knickers in a knot, we’re going to miss out on a tremendous opportunity to start raw, vulnerable conversations about desire and marriage and humanity and grace. Conversations that are aching to be had. About how God intended the marriage bed to be a place of wildly delicious pleasure, and the mind to remain a sanctuary of peace and purity. And that life and marriage and sex after kids is in fact tricky, but that anything worth having is worth working for. And that there’s hope. And creativity. And wholeness available.
There are hurting marriages all around us. Lonely hearts and cold beds. These epic book sales aren’t an indication of excellent writing skills. It’s a cry for help. Whether they know it or not.
A desperate plea for something more.
Women are aching to be noticed, to feel lovely, craved, powerful. We were created to feel these things. Women need to know that the sexuality woven into their bodies is beautiful and potent and valid.
But we don’t talk about it, and we shame those who try.
Proverbs 27:7 speaks to this ache by contrasting the satisfied soul, who’s not tempted by honey from the comb, with the hungry one to whom “even what is bitter tastes sweet”. I know that bitter-sweet taste. That temporary numbing of the empty soul. The voice that whispers, “see…I can make you come alive…even when he can’t”. I’ve bought into that lie. And I’ve watched it set into motion a frantic search for satisfaction that cannot be quenched. And that creeps into every private place in your heart, refusing to leave and demanding to be fed.
Where are the bible studies and coffee dates that create space for vulnerable “my marriage is falling apart”, “we don’t have sex any more”, “I don’t remember the last time I was aroused…or had an orgasm” conversations? If the church doesn’t become a safe place to bare our naked, broken souls…the world will surely show us a good time.
Labels and judgment don’t woo people to the heart of Christ. They never have and they never will.
We’re experts at judging people who sin differently than us. But as Mother Theresa so perfectly put it, when “you judge people, you have no time to love them”.
We’re quick to point out the problem, but don’t tend to be as eager to suggest a solution. So if shaming and judging those broken souls who devour this schlop isn’t helping, what will?
Might some honest, unashamed dialog about how vulnerable we are to cheap counterfeits…how messed up and hungry we really are…and how redemptive and powerful our God is in the face of it all help steer us in the right direction?
I think so.
Be mindful of the stones you throw, sweet friend, in your passionate effort to clobber sin. There are fragile, broken souls you hit in the crossfire.
Aren’t we all just wounded warriors trying desperately to make our way to something beautiful? Why not do it together?
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