What if the fear that shaped our faith wasn’t fear of God’s wrath, but fear of His rejection?

I wasn’t afraid of God—at least, not in the way people think. I was afraid of what He thought of me.

That’s the subtle wound fear-based theology leaves behind. It doesn’t drive us to worship in awe. It drives us to perform in panic. Instead of running to God when we fail, we retreat. We rehearse apologies. We try to earn our way back into His affection.

Because when your worth feels tied to performance, grace doesn’t feel safe—it feels suspicious.

The Silence That Shaped Us

There were things we didn’t talk about. Not at home. Not at church.

Desire. The body. Sex. We were handed vague warnings and quiet rules—but not language, not wisdom, not truth. So we learned elsewhere. From the culture, from peers, from private experimentation.

And when curiosity collided with shame, we didn’t confess—we hid. We didn’t feel safe enough to speak. Because being seen felt dangerous.

The Church didn’t always mean to be silent. But in that silence, shame grew.

A Better Story About Sex and the Body

Purity culture didn’t just teach us what not to do—it taught us to fear what we were. That our sexuality was a liability. That our bodies were battlegrounds. That desire itself was suspect.

But that narrative was never God’s idea.

God created our bodies with intention. Our sexuality is not a glitch—it’s part of His design. Sacred. Reflective of His image. Worthy of honor, not erasure.

The problem isn’t desire. The problem is disordered desire. And the answer isn’t suppression—it’s stewardship.

Here’s the truth that purity culture failed to emphasize: Sex and sexuality were God’s idea.

God designed sex for covenant marriage between one man and one woman (Genesis 2:24). It’s not a cultural invention. It’s not a human construct. It’s a divine gift—intended for intimacy, unity, and a reflection of the mystery between Christ and His Church (Ephesians 5:31–32).

That’s not a boundary built on deprivation. It’s a boundary built on design.

Yes, God places guardrails around sexuality—not to control us, but to protect us. Because sacred things deserve clarity, not confusion.

The world says to follow your feelings. Scripture calls us to follow Jesus.

And following Jesus means surrendering all of who we are—including our sexuality—to His lordship. That’s true for every believer, whether we wrestle with heterosexual temptations or same-sex attraction. The call is the same: faithful obedience to God’s design.

This isn’t about exclusion. It’s about alignment with the Creator who knows what leads to our flourishing.

When the Church Went Quiet, the World Got Loud

While the Church handed us rules, the world handed us stories—about freedom, identity, worth. And because at least the world was talking, it felt more honest.

We were told our bodies were temples, but no one told us what that meant. So we learned in fragments. Pieced together a theology of the body from silence and shame.

The result? Many of us grew up fractured. Trying to follow Jesus while feeling ashamed of simply being human.

Our bodies were not given to us as traps, tests, or ticking time bombs. Our sexuality is not a stain on our worth—it’s a sign of our design.

We need to teach that again. Not with fear, but with truth. Not with vague rules, but with rooted theology. A theology that honors the body, upholds covenant, and invites even our desires into discipleship.

Untangling the Knots

I never abandoned faith. But I did have to untangle it.

It wasn’t rebellion. It was healing. The slow, sacred work of pulling apart fear, guilt, and silence to find grace underneath.

Grace didn’t erase the past. It reframed it. It helped me understand that holiness isn’t about escaping our humanity—it’s about redeeming it. God doesn’t ask us to reject our bodies, but to steward them in alignment with His design.

A New Vision for the Next Generation

I’m parenting differently. I’m leading differently. Not with fear, but with clarity. With honesty. With the kind of conversations I never had growing up.

Because our children don’t need more rules. They need more vision. A theology of the body that is rooted in design, rescued by grace, and grounded in truth.

You were made in the image of God. Your body, your longings, your identity—they are not accidents. But they do need guidance. Truth. Redemption.

Biblical sexuality isn’t a message of shame. It’s a message of wholeness. Not “freedom to do whatever we want,” but the freedom to become who we were created to be.

Final Word: You Are Not a Mistake

You don’t have to perform for love. You don’t have to fear your own body. You don’t have to hide from the God who made you.

God’s design was never meant to shame you. It was meant to bless you.

There’s a better story to tell. One that begins not with fear, but with belonging.