My buddy Mike and I were walking down Melrose Blvd. in Hollywood. I had just revealed to him that my wife recently had an affair. At first, he thought I was making a bad joke, but then realized I was serious. He was shocked.
He made some disparaging remarks about her as we continued our stroll to a local Korean eatery. Part of me felt edified that he was solidly in my corner. Mike is not a Christian, but he’s a loyal friend. He tried to encourage me.
“You know what this means? You’re free now,” he said. “You need to get out there and have as much sex as you can.”
I saw the impending collapse of my marriage as a tragedy. He saw it as an opportunity.
When well-meant advice misses the mark...
Mike’s advice, which from his point-of-view, I believe, was genuinely well-meaning, was that I needed to take this opportunity to enjoy my newfound “freedom.” He argued that it was not only an opportunity, it was actually a necessity. Now that I was going to be feeling broken and lonely, I deserved, even needed to have sex with as many women as I could. I would need the physicality, the warmth, the intimate connection with another human being.
One could argue that his advice made a certain kind of sense. One could also argue that it was terrible advice.
Before I met my wife, I had not always been a paragon of chastity. I had been a Christian since I was a teenager and I took my faith seriously. Even so, I’m a flesh-and-blood man and I wasn’t immune to sexual lures. As a young adult, I had indulged in sexual dalliances with a couple of women, and later regretted it.
This didn’t compute with Mike. Sex is natural, sex is good. Why feel bad about doing it?
Sex is not only natural, but supernatural.
He was right about the natural and good part. But he seemed oblivious to the very real emotional consequences of having sex outside marriage. Both of my sexual encounters had ended in broken relationships and a deep sadness and heartache.
I think I had always known that sex is not just something you do casually. Something deep inside me (the Holy Spirit) always somehow knew that sex is not common. It’s cosmic. It’s inextricably tied up with our soul and spirit and psyche.
A body separated from a soul is a corpse. If the two aren’t bound together, you’re dead. And, for whatever reason, God willed it that way—when you separate the spiritual from the physical, you’re as good as dead.
That’s why physical sex outside the spiritual bond of marriage always kills you a little. Or a lot. I had experienced this before. So something in me intuited that Mike’s well-intentioned advice was wrong. Sure, sex with a new woman who wasn’t my wife might be thrilling and consoling and pleasurable. But only for a brief moment. I knew that it would actually leave me (and her) feeling empty and worse than before.
The Church's rules aren't arbitrary—they help us to love others more fully.
Why does Scripture and the Church’s wisdom tradition tell us that sex outside marriage is not good? It’s not because the Church wants to arbitrarily impose moral rules on us, or suppress our natural desires. Exactly the opposite. The Church wants us to enjoy our natural desires. But it knows those desires can only be truly, happily fulfilled within the context of an exclusive marital bond.
Why is it this way? I don’t know. But that’s apparently how God designed it, and the evidence of this fact, for me at least, was in the regret and misery I’d felt when I’d done it my way instead of God’s.
So as Mike and I sat in the Korean restaurant, drinking Sapporo beers and eating pork dumplings that night, I knew his advice to have sex with as many people as I could did not ring true. If I did that, I’d only hurt myself and the women I slept with. I appreciated Mike’s support, but knew I’d have to go another way.
It wouldn’t be easy. But if I could endure the loneliness and the lack of physical affection, at least my soul would be free. What good would it do to drag myself and another person down into a mess that would only hurt us both? In the end, it would only be a false solace, a sham intimacy. And it would cause more damage than a fleeting moment of pleasure is worth.
Even when you give into sexual temptations, God is merciful.
I don’t say this to sound sanctimonious. I say it because I’ve come to realize that God is smarter than me. I had already made mistakes in this area, so why make them again? If one tire on your car goes flat, you don’t just give up and slash the other three tires. You fix the flat tire and get back on the road. That’s what I’d have to do.
I’m grateful for friends like Mike. I’m also grateful for God’s wisdom in giving me advice that will make my life better and easier in the long run. And I’m grateful for His mercy in allowing me to start over and do things a better way, a way that will keep me from harm and empower me to live the abundant life He’s given me to live.
Chastity isn’t easy, especially in our culture that teaches us it’s our right and need to indulge our God-given desires, without regard to any consequences. But there are consequences. I don’t know why it's that way, but again, that's the way God made it. And He also made a way for us to ultimately feel free and be happier than we could ever imagine, if we do it His way.
So for now, I’m trying to keep all four tires on the road. Because I know, from experience, that it will eventually keep me from crashing and will lead me to the abundant life God promises.
