Pic unrelated to the subject matter of this post. Hockey is just awesome.
I don’t often write about religion… In fact, I purposefully avoid it, because I know it can turn folks off. Reading religious things sometimes turn ME off, so I know the feeling. I’ve stopped following a couple of blogs that are particularly preachy; I love a good philosophical debate, I enjoy a reasoned religious article relating to current events or modern relationships, but I can’t handle downright preachy and judgmental for the sake of being preachy and judgmental.
That said, this post will be a bit religious in nature. I’ll understand if you want to tune out. Don’t worry, there won’t be many posts like this. I believe in the quote (or possibly misquote) of St. Francis: “Preach the gospel at all times. Use words if necessary.” Living life as a Christian is more important than the words. Even though I’m in kind of a down point in my religious life for a variety of reasons, I still strive to live by example.
In responding to some things over at Sexy Christian Wife, I remembered a conversation my husband and I had one evening while lying in bed. I urged him to come to me anytime he felt the temptation to look at pornography or masturbate, and I would make sure he was taken care of.
There are practical reasons for my suggestion… pornagraphy can be harmful in many physiological and psychological ways. Having sex more often binds us to each other hormonally. Plus sex is just plain fun.
But also for the religious reasons. As a wife, I am responsible for his sexual well being. By denying him sex, I am increasing the likelihood of temptation and driving him to things that make him sin, whether simply pornography or a full blown affair if I deny him long enough. If I can be a tool to help him get to heaven, and it involves lots of sexy underwear and handcuffs, isn’t that a beautiful thing?
I knew this for so long, but I never really owned it. Rationalization played a big part. I went to confession to confess “depriving my spouse of the marital right” nearly every time I could. I knew he was probably confessing pornography and lust at the same time, but my hamster never let my brain put two and two together. “Oh, that’s his personal struggle. He’ll have to deal with it.” Why was I so stupid?
So girls: help your husband get to heaven. Screw him till he’s cross-eyed, then screw him some more.
