Last week Jill Domschot wrote a post that touched on something I keep meaning to write about.
There is a movement (and yes, it’s no accident that I’m using words like “duty” and “movement” in this context. We may yet even get to “steaming pile”) among certain folks that teaches… I am not sure how to put this…
As usual, we’ve got those who would corrupt the truth now running rampant and causing a whole lot of pain. Why do we always feel it necessary to twist the good news of Grace into a weapon that cuts others down? There’s no need for that, and it’s Satan in the desert, using scripture to taint, to corrupt.
There are those who teach that a woman who lets herself go is responsible for her husband’s eventual infidelities. After all, why shouldn’t he hunger for sex with the pretty manager of the marketing department if you’ve put on fifty pounds after the birth of your children? Why shouldn’t he yearn for carnal knowledge of a woman who can afford regular trips to the salon, if you guys are watching your budget and you don’t colour your own hair?
When I was a girl in Christian school we had a lecture in a girls’-only Bible class about how we should dress. It was our responsibility, it seemed, to keep the boys from thoughts of lust.* In fairness, I don’t know if the boys had a class of their own in self-control. Nevertheless the idea that I am responsible for someone else’s choice to sin seems a little bit…well, it’s the equivalent of “you got raped because you were asking for it.” It doesn’t hold the transgressor accountable at all, and it misjudges men. It makes men out to be some sort of slavering dogs not in control of their own actions.
The nuances of a marital relationship are manifold. Mutual respect in any relationship is key, and no more so than in a marriage. Part of sacrificial love, however, is to love the other person in spite of flaws or “flaws”. That’s how God loves us, and if a Christian marriage is to be a reflection of how Christ loved the church, it’s your job as a husband to love your wife in whatever form she takes.
*I as a large-breasted girl had my own special lecture about not stretching back over my chair. It seems the constant backache I had from hauling around D-cups was to be put up with silently. Stretching drew too much attention to my “assets”.