Teach What Matters
/"I think this is a true statement: Jesus is a psycho for purity. It’s not because He wants a bunch of good girls. That’s boring. It’s because He paid the ultimate price to save us. You don’t pay that kind of price for things that aren’t precious beyond description." -Knocking Over Tables by Caroline Saunders
For most of the last decade, my husband has worked with students. I, being the token student pastor's wife and a middle school teacher, have been asked many times to talk to girls about sex, purity, and marriage. And so I always have, sharing with them things I'd learned, how purity matters because of marriage and morality and whatnot, how there are so many benefits, how it's worth it.
Then one day, I felt convicted. I realized that I'd been teaching things I'd always heard rather than seeking God for fresh revelation and wrestling through scripture to fight for the wisdom myself. This is not really like me. "Fresh teaching" was one of my core values as a writing teacher, and I flat-out refused to simply pass along what had always been taught until I wrestled with it and knew it to be valuable, and I created new content whenever necessary. I have always practiced the same thing as a small group and discipleship leader, refusing to lazily lean on someone else's hard-earned wisdom. But for purity? I phoned it in. It was too icky of a topic, and I just tried to be funny as I shared what I'd always heard. Kind of like, "HAHA WE'RE TALKING ABOUT SEX AT CHURCH, SO LET'S LAUGH SO WE DON'T BARF."
But when God has called you to teach, he isn't going to let you lazily skate on second-hand wisdom and infuse your personality to convince people to pay attention. It's crucial for us to not simply regurgitate what we've been taught, but to ask God to teach us anew.
When I did that, I realized that all along I'd been completely missing the only thing that matters about purity: Jesus. (I know, duh.) Purity matters because JESUS paid the ultimate price for me, that I might be his, that he might live in my heart. It doesn't have a thing to do with earning a "good girl" badge. Gross.
We fight for purity because we do not take his death and his resurrection lightly. We preach the full gospel story to ourselves that it might motivate us to knock over tables like Jesus did in the temple, pushing away with all our might anything that treats our bodies as less than a temple, whether that be words, pictures, boyfriends, jokes, mirrors, or our very own thoughts. When we understand the price, we will go to war for our purity. We will do anything for the Jesus who loves us so extravagantly. I have to teach what matters, and when it comes to purity (and probably everything else), what matters is Jesus and how he loved us unto death. (Want to read more about? I wrote a full article on this concept for Sadie Robertson's blog Live Original. In the words of my sister, "You know it's a good post when 'potato knees' is said more times than 'purity.'")
But I also realize that there's more to address when it comes to purity, and I want to faithfully teach all aspects of it. Sometimes we misunderstand Jesus's indignation in the temple, and we start to tump over the wrong tables. You know, Jesus lived a curious life and did strange things. Sometimes he flipped over tables, and sometimes he pulled up a chair. I want to teach my kids about purity while they're little, and I want to train them and myself to know when to tump over a table and when to pull up a chair. I'm not quite sure what that looks like, but I am certain that the only way to do that is to become well-acquainted with Jesus, who continues to surprise me. (You can read more about that here.)
Parents and teachers and ministry leaders: Whoever and whatever we teach, may we do so in a way that inspires wonder in a startling gospel and an unexpected Jesus. May we faithfully and passionately teach what matters.
