First off, I'd like to make a special note to you guys. This week's article is kind of a response to this excellent piece by Jonathan Trotter, a pastoral counselor based in Southeast Asia. I suggest you read his words before you read mine!

Growing up in the early-to-mid-2000's was challenging in and of itself, but the emergence of what some people might call "purity culture" made everything more challenging.

Now, I wasn't one of those kids who went to Purity Balls with their dad, or one of those kids who read I Kissed Dating Goodbye and swore off boys forever. But I was heavily influenced by people who did go to purity events, and people who did read those types of books, and it forever shaped the way I interact with men.

My parents taught me self-respect and to respect others, and for that I am very grateful. They did not seem to buy into the subculture of our Christian circles at the time. For instance, I was allowed to read Harry Potter; I turned out just fine. This resulted in my brother and I being able to ask Mom and Dad real questions. Questions like, "Why do I have to make sure my belly isn't showing?" or "Why can she wear that but I can't?" were answered not in a judgmental fashion, but in a loving and caring way. I did not feel ashamed of puberty or terrified of boys. Mom and Dad were cool with me having guy friends.

Yet despite the healthy home environment (once again, I cannot thank you guys enough for how you raised my brother and I) I was still majorly impacted by the "modest is hottest" movement.

I had a subscription to Brio Magazine, and I always read it cover to cover. But one day, when I was in sixth grade, an article about purity caught my eye. I knew sex was something that was supposed to stay between married people and it also grossed me out, so I never bothered to think about the other topics accompanying sex (consent, modesty, and so on.)

I don't recall the exact title, but I do remember it was about a girl who gave her new husband a shiny, white, beautifully wrapped present, and another girl who gave her husband a battered, broken box. Then it transitioned into telling me not to be that girl who gives her husband a broken box. They didn't mention the word "sex" once, but the twelve-year-old me absolutely knew they were referring to premarital sex.

Twelve is a tender enough age. It's hard being twelve, and it's harder being twelve and trying to be as pure as possible so that a man would one day love me.

In youth group, we never really talked about sex beyond "don't do it." The onus was nonverbally put on the girls to stay pure and presentable and to not be, well, sluts. Not once was self-respect or dignity mentioned. In my context, if you were a girl who wore short shorts and/or spaghetti strap tank tops, you became perceived as "loose" or "trouble later on." I could talk all day about the problematic ideals behind the modesty movement, but perhaps I'll save it for another article.

As I grew up, I continued to absorb the culture around me and it slowly, but irreparably began to damage the way I interacted with males. No longer was modesty just an afterthought or a thing I did to make sure my pants stayed up, but it became an obsession. What would a guy think of me if I showed any hint of cleavage? What would teachers and other parents think if I wore something form-fitting? These questions were always in the back of my mind even in the classroom and sometimes served as a distraction.

If I messed up, it meant I wouldn't be worthy of a man one day. I knew this logically to be a false assumption, but my heart continued to believe otherwise.

To this day, I still struggle with dressing up or "looking good." I don't want to draw attention to myself or my body, even though I know it's probably the last thing my guy friends notice. And if they do notice, they don't make a big deal out of it.

I also have a very hard time accepting compliments about my appearance especially when it comes from a man. This is not the guy's fault, by the way. I am working through complex psychological and body image issues that will take a lifetime to unravel. Growing up in the height of purity culture seemed to exacerbate these issues for me.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to save sex for marriage. I am waiting until I'm married to have sex, because I want my husband to be the only person who knows me intimately. However, I've come to the conclusion that purity is not possible unless you include the Lord in it. In addition, purity should not be boiled down to sexuality. I am actively pursuing holiness but I cannot achieve it without God's help. It is impossible on my own power!

My final point in addressing my issues with purity culture is that, again, it reduces both men and women to sexual creatures. Men are degraded into people who can't handle the glimpse of a shoulder, and women are taught to hide themselves and to be careful of their dress, lest they be accused of "asking for it". There is something deeply wrong when sex and even love are distorted into shame. We are so much more than our sexual desires or struggles, and so much more than what purity culture suggests. We have self-control. We have healthy friendships between genders, and healthy relationships as well. There is great joy to be found in sex, I imagine, but it is not the only part of life.

Now that I am in college, I am not as afraid about messing up or entrancing men accidentally, but I still take care to dress professionally and modestly. It is a self-esteem booster and no longer a tool of fear, thankfully. I have many wonderful friendships with men, who are also pursuing holiness. I no longer worry that I'll be seen as damaged goods if something happens to me before I get married. I know my worth is so much more than my virginity.

Fellow sisters, you are worth so much more than your sexual past or lack of a sexual past. You are loved and beautiful and smart and kind. Never forget your true worth: being an imagebearer.