I Knew Some Things [1.5]
It seemed worthwhile to wait until marriage.
At 14, I had committed my life to Christ, grateful that He died to purify me and redeem me for a relationship with God. So, if God was asking me to wait, that seemed fair enough. A man died for me; it’s the least I could do.
The thing is, just as I was embarking on a new spiritual journey, there were also major turning points in my sexual development happening at the same time. Throughout high school, I navigated this new terrain on my own, every peak – the crushes, flirtation, young love and more – and every valley. The sexual energy was empowering, and I was figuring out how to manage it. I knew simple moves, like the right eye contact, could do a lot. I also knew how to deter or altogether extinguish unwanted attention in most cases. But in some cases I didn't. There wasn’t loving, explicit, and wise guidance in the same way there was for other areas of my development, like the formation of my faith or academic education. I was young; there was a lot I needed to learn. But I knew some things.
Growing up, my parents had extremely limited conversations with me about sex, attraction and dating, and those that were had were vague. My dad would say, "I was a young man too, you know, so I know..."
"Okay, Pappy. Thanks..."
Then at some point, the youth leaders at my church, managing a bunch of teens, must've noticed a spike in hormones, so they started coaching all of us on “Christian hugs.” Again, saying something, but nothing directly at the same time.
With a lot on my mind senior year, I privately unplugged by turning to an intimate relationship with a young man more experienced than me. Exploring the euphoria of new grounds.
And soon after, guilt would sober me like a cup of te asosi*. Every. single. time.
I knew God’s Word.
“Don’t you realize that you become the slave of whatever you choose to obey? You can be a slave to sin, which leads to death, or you can choose to obey God, which leads to righteous living.” - Romans 6:16 (NLT)
I knew the commitment I had made.
“‘Everything is permissible for me,’ but not everything is beneficial. ‘Everything is permissible for me,’ but I will not be mastered by anything. ‘Food is for the stomach and the stomach for food,’ and God will do away with both of them. However, the body is not for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body.” - 1 Corinthians 6:12-13 (CSB)
I knew. I knew. I knew.
I repented, and the relationship ended just as quickly as it began.
Three months later, when my normally abnormal menstrual cycle seemed abnormally abnormal (insert face slap emoji)... I was scared. Shocked and scared. I was young and lacked understanding, but I chose to believe God’s Word.
“Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from him.” - Psalm 127:3 (NLT)
So, I chose to have a baby.
I prayed. I told him.
I prayed, and prayed, and prayed.
I didn't tell anyone.
…Then I told her.
I don't recall what prompted me to, especially since I hadn’t told her anything about that relationship before – it was brief and privately mine. We weren't super close yet, but we did have our own friendship independent of the larger friend group. I sensed that she'd have the wisdom to handle delicate information and keep her lips sealed; but more importantly, that she would have the wisdom to pray with me. And she did.
It was the summer of 2007, just before the start of my first year in college. I sat in her dim living room for hours, as the sunlight reduced throughout our conversation. A conversation that started with, “I have something to tell you..." and ended with "In Jesus' name, Amen." I shared my fears, my hope in God, and my decision. She assured me that my news would remain private. Her face expressed shock and concern, tempered by empathy and nonjudgmental support. Jessica interpreted my need for prayer and hugged me as she prayed. We were young, but we knew some things.
.
.
.
…but not everything.
* cerasee tea