The Virgin Whore

If you read my article “Confessions of a 30(ish)-Year-Old Virgin” then you are well aware that I am still a virgin. If you haven’t read it, you can find it here.

I admit that even though my chastity belt has been securely fastened (and in its upright position) that I have whored my heart out to numerous lovers. As Christians, we think that as long as we aren’t having sex then we’re “good.” Or at the least, good enough. What more could God possibly want?

Well, He wants your heart. Not just part of it, but all of it.

I’ve had many lovers. Some of those “lovers” have been men — both real and imaginary. The guys I met that I secretly fell in love with because I saw how much they loved Jesus, and I thought, Surely, this must be the one for me. I saw them holding a baby at church or playing with a child at the park, and as my heart convulsed involuntarily I was confident they were a perfect fit for me.

My heart began to pursue that man (and every man like that), and he became the focus of my thoughts and my affections. I was constantly thinking of ways I could make him happy or let him know he was loved. I told myself that it was a righteous goal; I mean, God did tell us to love our neighbors.

“He’s my neighbor, Lord! I’m just doing what You told me to do!” I knew this was my way of trying to justify my motives.

Guys, I hope you’re listening to all of this, too. I know this struggle isn’t selective to only my lady friends. You might not be scribbling her name with hearts over your notebooks, but I’m sure you’re daydreaming about her wearing your T-shirt while she plays video games with you on the couch. Or the girls you dream about taking home to meet mom for Christmas dinner.

There are the imaginary lovers, as well. The ones we swoon over that we’ll never meet. I’m talking about the Ryan Goslings of this world. Your favorite actors/actresses, musicians or other public figures. You’re never in a million years going to meet that person, yet you fantasize and hope and dream. And all the while, your heart is being whittled away to an imaginary lover who — Doesn’t. Even. Know. You exist.

Men aren’t the only things I’ve whored my heart out to, unfortunately. At times, my desire for a career has been the singular drive of my life. I’ve seen this one creep up more recently. My 10-year college reunion is coming up, and I’ve been dreading it for, oh, the past year or so. If I’m going to be 30(ish) and single, I need to at least have a career, right? Something to show for the past 10 years of my life. But I don’t have a career worth bragging about. Instead, I’ve got a job that (sorta) pays the bills. This isn’t exactly the type of material you want to bring to a reunion.

So, my heart went on a pursuit.

For the past year, I’ve applied for any job I thought was worth applying for, with little to no response. My heart was wrapped up in “the job” that I was sure was out there for me and would make me feel significant or worthy of love. I found one that I was sure would be perfect. It included my passions and would have given me a public position as well as a big paycheck. Less than 24 hours after my interview, I got an email saying I “wasn’t the right fit.”

Another lover had rejected me.

Good thing there was still one more lover to pursue. I might not have a husband or kids or career … but there had always be my faithful mistress: ministry. Around the time I had received news about not being selected for the job, I was offered the opportunity to lead a ministry that I had been serving with for a few years. It seemed like perfect timing — except for one thing. Deep inside I knew I was trying to use that position to satisfy something in my heart that it was never meant to fill. I tried it for a few weeks, but I became miserable and discouraged.

My heart wasn’t satisfied. And when a heart isn’t satisfied it searches for more and more things to try and fulfill its desires and longings.

My whored-out heart was weary. I’d tried it all — potential relationships, the search for a career, the pursuit of ministry — only to be left empty. It was in that empty state that I realized that I was pursuing the wrong things. I needed to simplify and refocus my attention. I needed to get back to my first love.

In the end, if I ended up marrying Shia LeBouf (he’s a Christian now, haven’t you heard?), getting the lofty job and serving in ministry on weekends, I’d still be weary and empty. Why? Because I had stopped pursuing Jesus.

My heart has finally found its home (again) in Jesus. I no longer feel the need to perform or run around for attention. There is no striving in me … only a peaceful rest.

In the moments when I feel most distracted or feel my attention waning, I pray this prayer: “Jesus, I set my eyes on you.” Like a true lover, I take that moment to appreciate Him for whom He is and allow all else to fade away. I remember why it is that I love Him and I allow Him to remind me why He loves me. That’s it. Me and my first love. Sure, I would still like those things in my life — the man, the job, the ministry — but they are not my heart’s pursuit.

Jesus is.