The hearts of women everywhere are being captured by a story of lust disguised as twisted love, and we are sitting here, with our judgmental glances towards the type of people who read those types of books or see those types of movies. We think how disturbing, how sick, how awful. Maybe you found out your state is the state said to be most deceived by the lies of intimacy being pushed on every commercial break, every YouTube ad, and in every store, and your heart broke a little bit.
But last week we secretly wished for the guy in that “christian romance novel”. You know the ones, the men who lead their wives, who love them, who cherish them, who pick up their underwear off of the bathroom floor, the ones who do all of the things we wish our guys would do. We sat there, and we read it in the name of “inspirational fiction” so it must be okay, because it talked about God in there somewhere, even if we can’t remember the truth it whispered. But we sat in our pajamas at 3pm, with messes piled high, book in hand and we dreamt of that perfect life and perfect man and wished it was ours, and before we knew it we were sinning too as we sat in our self-righteous chair peering over our not-so-holy book at those with the erotica dressed up as a love story in their hands and in their thoughts, both of us thinking the same thoughts about the men who were not our mates.
But maybe some of you were caught with that book in your hand. That curious mind and wandering searching heart, searched right into the middle of a broken love story, and before you knew it your thoughts were being filled with the confusion of love and lust and true intimacy. Maybe you were younger and hid under covers reading this strange story, and only told your closest friends because heaven forbid anyone find out that you needed grace poured. I was.
We are longing for intimacy in a world of sex perversion. We search for this definition of intimacy where the church has failed us, because that subject is just too touchy. You can’t say sex or talk about intimacy from the pulpit, and kids are only taught sex is bad and that healthy view of intimacy is nowhere to be found. So instead we leave these young people to discover their own definition in a culture where sex is everywhere, but it never looks like it should. So we pick up books where vampires fall in love with humans and scarred powerful men dominate over women because at least its something that talks about sex and intimacy because no one else will, and before we know it this mommy-porn love story has exploded and sold over 100 million copies at an alarmingly rapid rate.
This weekend, a movie will be released and young girls will drag boyfriends, and housewives will band together, and women of all ages and religions will watch a story unfold on the screen and they will think that this domination and control is exciting and something new to try, but even the stars of the movie were scarred by its contents.
I guess the point I’m trying to make is that some of us need to stop thinking so much about 50 Shades of Grey, and instead think of the 50 Shades of Grace that have been poured over us all daily. The grace that covers the lies, the lust, the covetousness, the shame. The grace that covers each of your crazy shades even when you feel too broken to understand, thanks to a gruesome death and blood poured out. Maybe we need to focus on a grace that can cover the hearts of every person that will sit in a movie theater with this weekend, or the moms with the Christian romance novel on their bedside table. Maybe we all just need a little more grace.
**Note: I realize these thoughts are scattered, and there is SO SO much more to it than this. Please, do more reading of your own on this subject. This is just a few of my jumbled thoughts as I work through my feelings regarding this phenomena. Please remember, you are loved, and you are covered in grace by a Father who wishes for so much more for you than these lies of intimacy.**