Counseling

Feb

2017

The Heartbreaking Pain of Loneliness

Loneliness is a prevalent condition today. Strange that it should be so at this point in history, though. With the highest technologies in communications, we are in touch with people on the other side of the world in a snap!! We’re connected by texts, face-time, skype, email, social media and telecons. The need for travel is lessening as we can have group meetings, webinars, and even classrooms all online. But if we need to travel, we can easily get in a car, a bus, a plane, a train, or a boat and get there in record times, right? So why is loneliness such a problem?

In previous eras, because they had no convenient means of transportation, people lived and died within twenty miles of the place they were born. Their relationships were restricted to their families, and local friends and neighbors. However, the entire world is open to us. So why are we still so lonely?

Sometimes, even in our society, even with our technology, even with our ease in transportation, we know more people but truly connect with fewer of them. Why is that? Some people now work from home, so their work relationships are online. Some people live in their apartments or houses and sit at their computers for hours. They don’t have that many friends they can actually do things with, but their online relationships have become their circle of friends.

It’s easy, even with all these conveniences, to fall into patterns of isolation like never before. And isolation can lead to fewer true connections between friends. We don’t even have to venture out of our homes for groceries now that we can place our order and have them delivered, or we can conveniently pick them up without having to leave our cars.

No wonder people are increasingly lonely, depressed and isolated. Those of us who are blessed with a good church and rich fellowship have social advantages others may not. But Christians are not exempt from loneliness. Sometimes people feel more alone in a crowd than they do sitting at home in solitude. And then there’s the loneliness that occurs when we lose someone we love. They leave holes in our hearts that no one else can fill.

So what are we to do about all of this? How can we find meaningful connections with people? How can we engage in a way that alleviates our sense of loneliness, depression and isolation? How can we start to live again instead of merely existing?

The first baby step may be reading a little 59-page booklet on this subject. Am I saying that my new book, Help! I’m So Lonely, is the answer to this monumental problem? By no means. But I know it can take your hand and help you make your first tremulous steps out of loneliness, depression and isolation. It provides concrete, practical suggestions to help move you towards a fuller life again. But as helpful as that advice may be, it’s nothing compared to the truths that God’s word has to offer us about this heart-breaking condition. So yes, this little booklet taps the tip of the iceberg of scriptural insights that may be just what your heart needs to hear when you’re emotionally drowning in isolation and loneliness. Won’t you take that first step with me?

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Dec

2016

Christ, Our Firm Foundation

This is not actually a commercial for Faith Talk 99.5 on your radio dial. But I will say that I thank God for it. I was listening yesterday as Andy Stanley preached about the foundation of our faith.

The significance of it to me was to remind me of where I was 30 years ago. Meeting the friend God put in my life in 1986 proved to be the watershed moment of my life. It was moving along a certain trajectory beforehand, but it changed dramatically afterwards. I went from being an undisciplined, ignorant, immature Christian to a truly committed Christian during those first three weeks of studying with him, and the journey is still ongoing.

Some would say that’s when I was truly saved. But I know my heart. And I know how much I loved the Lord—even while I engaged in sinful activities, trying to convince myself that surely God didn’t intend for us, in this day and age, to keep the biblical commands He set forth so long ago. Like I said, I was ignorant.

Yesterday, Andy Stanley reminded me of that place of ignorance. Back then I thought that if you do A, B, and C, that God would do E, F, and G. And when I did A, B, and C to the absolute best of my ability and He didn’t do E, F, and G, I felt betrayed and crushed. I thought, “He answers prayers for others, but not for me.” I couldn’t even read Romans 8:28 without crying from a genuinely broken heart. Surely God was not working “all things” to my good!

Oh, thank You, Lord Jesus, that You didn’t leave me there.

You see, my faith was wrapped up in circumstances, and I let those circumstances define God’s faithfulness to me. And I saw Him crushing me time after time, though I was doing everything I knew how to do. Bless my poor, uninformed heart.

It was like my pastor said. It’s like being on a treadmill and no matter how fast you go or at what incline you run, you’re still going nowhere—regardless of the effort you put into it. That was me.

But, praise God, our confidence is not based on circumstances. It is based upon Jesus Christ and His power and glory. Jesus Christ, the Rock of our salvation. When we measure His love for us by the circumstances He sends our way, we will always be crushed by the weight of sorrow. When we’re tempted to doubt God’s love for us, we should stop and remember what He did on a little hill outside Jerusalem. That’s how we measure His love—what HE did, who HE is, and how HE remains faithful in His promises to us, even when we’re faithless, doubting, weak little sheep.

No. Our faith is not based on circumstance. It’s based on Jesus Christ—on His birth, life, ministry, death, resurrection and ascension. It’s based on the one who reigns at the right hand of the Father in heaven, who intercedes for us, who hears our prayers, and who brought us from darkness into His marvelous light. It’s based on the one who said, “I have said these things to you, that in me, you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world,” John 16:33.

Jun

2016

God, Our Comfort in Times of Trouble

I took my 4-year old grandson to the Splash Pad the other day. Located at one of our local parks, the Splash Pad is an area with loads of colorful things to play around—all of which squirt water out at various speeds and degrees. The other day there were probably thirty children under the age of ten out there and Xander had such a great time that the smile rarely left my face.

I noticed one little boy out there running merrily from one plaything to another to another. His mom, seated (like me) at one of the shaded picnic tables around the facility, called to him several times warning him not to run on the slippery pavement. He was having such fun, he really didn’t pay her any attention.

Suddenly, as he ran to another one of the watery attractions, he slipped and fell backwards, hitting his head on the concrete. My nurse antennae sprang to attention, but the little boy (probably three or four years old) got up, crying that way that moms recognize. This was not fake crying. This kid was hurting.

Holding the back of his head with one hand, he ran to his mom immediately. She examined his head and then held him close, soothing him with her calm voice, cradling him in her embrace. In no time, he was out there laughing and playing again—but walking instead of running.

I’ve thought about that experience several times since, and realized that it reminds me of us—a great illustration of our relationship with the Lord. Patiently, He warns us, instructs us, watches over us and so many times we’re oblivious to His words. We get so involved with our own lives and activities that we lose sight of Him in many ways.

Then comes the inevitable slip and fall (usually from not heeding His warnings) and we immediately know where to find Him. Only then do we run into His waiting arms and allow His comfort to wash over us. When we experience His love, care and tender mercies in our own times of trial we vow never to lose sight of Him again.

But we do. And still, He’s there—never leaving us, watching over us, guiding us. Just as that little boy found comfort in his mother’s arms, we learn to find comfort in our Savior, as well. Each time we find the courage to step out again to try to live our lives in a pleasing way to the Lord, we find that our suffering has brought us comfort, joy and love from Christ. And then, the bonus—we enter our life’s activities again a little stronger, a little wiser, and more in step with Him.

Dear ones, please remember this in your own times of trial. They will happen. But when they happen, remember that our pain is not meaningless. It has purpose. And the ultimate purpose is to mold us into who He wants us to be. Our suffering may have many long-term benefits, but there will always be two we should meditate upon—our pain will ultimately result in good for us, and glory to Him. Keep your eyes on Him and listen to His voice. To Him be all praise and honor and glory.

“’In the world you will have tribulation.

But take heart; I have overcome the world,’” (John 16:33).

Apr

2016

Home Sweet Home!

The consequences to and for the children of divorce have been well-documented. I don’t believe I’ve ever read a study saying that divorce is an advantage to children in any way—scholastically, sociologically, spiritually or emotionally. The prayer of divorced parents in raising their children becomes, “Please, Lord, don’t let this mess them up too much! Please help us to raise these children, even though we’re apart, in such a way as would be edifying to them. Bring them through this with minimal damage and allow them to be well-adjusted, happy, and God-honoring adults.”

My boys were two and five when their father and I divorced. The reason for our divorce does not matter here—only to say that, in my case, I felt there was no other option. If I knew then what I know now, perhaps things could have been different. The past belongs to the past and it would be foolish to dwell there.

I think the boys’ dad and I did the best we could by our children. We wanted what was best for them. We prayed for their safety, their health, their spiritual well-being. We loved them, cared for them, and tried, in our separate ways, to give them what they needed in growing up to be men who love the Lord.

Looking at them now, my heart is overwhelmed with pride and gratitude at the men they’ve become. They both had to deal with our divorce in their own ways, but the Lord saw them through those years and has blessed them both with salvation in Him. My only prayer as they left the nest and entered into lives of their own was that He would draw them close to Him. He has answered that prayer more abundantly than I would ever have dreamed.

Even though I recognize it was GOD who brought them through their childhoods, I still have a little tendency to want to pat myself on the back and say, “You did good, Deborah. They’re great men with strong personalities and an even stronger devotion to the Lord.”

My mother, in only the way she can do, just poked another little hole in that idea. While lunching the other day, she mentioned the fact that when my boys were young they always referred to “my mom’s house,” or “my dad’s house.” It was never “our house” or “my house.” She said she always felt so sorry for them about that. Instantly I recalled all the times I’d heard them say that. But until she mentioned it, I had never thought of that.

My son married a woman with two children. They are children of divorce. And I’ve heard them speak in those same terms, of “my mom’s” or “my dad’s.” I had the privilege of spending Sunday afternoon and evening with my grandson—the youngest of my son’s step-children, aged 12. So I casually interviewed him on this subject.

I asked him if there was one or the other home he called, “his house.” Or does he always thinks in terms of mom’s house or dad’s house? If he was studying in Europe for a year, let’s say, and he came “home,” where would that be? His answer melded right into my mother’s astute observation. He said he’d have to go to both of them. No, there wasn’t one he thought of as his home. Yes, he thought in terms of “my mom’s house” and “my dad’s house.”

I feel sorry for them. And I feel even worse about my boys growing up like that and I wasn’t even aware of it at the time. When I look back on my childhood, I know I had a home. My house. I could drive right to my childhood home right now! My children can’t do that. My son’s step-children can’t do that. Without this important sense of home, does that put them at an even greater disadvantage as they grow up? Do my own sons bear scars from it?

Why am I writing this blog? If you are part of a couple who may be contemplating a divorce, I want you to add this to your list of pros and cons—definitely under the cons. I pray that God will use this concern to encourage you to make another attempt at making your marriage work. Do everything you can do before you leap into all the ramifications of divorce.

I know I haven’t gone into the subject of God’s view of divorce and the spiritual disobedience in taking such a step. I trust you’ve heard and understand those concepts. But this new realization was one I’ve never heard discussed before, and just wanted to share it with you. My mother, at age 83, is still teaching me. Now I’m passing this along to you.

Please remember: There’s No Place Like Home. Give that to your children.

Feb

2016

For John

My brother, John David Koon, died ten years ago on February 27. Ten long years. Ten short years. It depends on how I look at it. In one way, it seems like yesterday.

Telling him goodbye for the last time on this earth, we held each other and all that would come out of my mouth was, “Oh, my dear!” That being spoken with such emotion. I’ve never called him “my dear” before. Don’t know why it came out like that. But clinging to him, tears flowing, I didn’t want to let go. I suspected I’d never see him again. Yet, I did see him again. He was in a coma that time. I snuggled next to him and cried, patting his frail hand, and telling him that if he needed to go on, it was okay. Yes, as tears flow now with the memory it seems like ten short years ago.

My little brother, John, was not perfect. But he was exceptional. Even as a little kid, his sweetness was evident. From early on he seemed to have a devotion to Christ that I didn’t share back then. No, he was touched by God in a way I wasn’t. One of my sweetest memories of him was playing Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. I’ve always been the loud one, the bossy one, the assertive one. So I insisted on being Roy and made him be Dale. Hahaha. Oh, what a sweet boy he was.

We didn’t become absolute best friends until I was around fifteen years old. I don’t know if that was because that’s when he was suddenly bigger than me, or because that’s when I was saved. But I became a nicer, more loving person then and John and I were joined at the hip. We went to the same school. We had some of the same teachers. We both played trumpet in the band. We had the same friends. We truly enjoyed each other’s company more than other people.

One summer, while we were at band camp, we were both going steady and our “steadies” weren’t there. So John and I hung out a lot that year. We entered a twist contest and if memory serves me right, I think we won. Also, we were write-ins for cutest couple. Haha. That was fun.

Our adult years were often marked by separation. I left home when I went away to college. Then got married. Then he left to move to Texas, then California and back to Texas. Then he moved back home to the Little Rock area. Later, he got married and moved to Cabot, Arkansas—about an hour away.

Through it all, we maintained our relationship. When we were together it was as if no time had passed. We didn’t do “shallow” very well, so our conversations were always at a heart level. But he was also one of the funniest people I ever knew. So we were either laughing or deeply involved in conversation—or sometimes both.

When he was diagnosed with cancer, our relationship was kicked to the next level. We were all heart-broken. His wife and little girls tried to care for him to the best of their ability. My mother was devastated. And me? Well, it was the saddest thing I’ve ever experienced, so far in my life, to watch my dear, smart, funny, adorable brother suffer the indignities of cancer. We all felt so sorry for the toll it took on him.

But he didn’t. No, he rose to the occasion. Always content to be in the shadows, he suddenly thrust himself into the spotlight with a message that inspired and touched everyone he shared it with. The message was about how gracious and good God is—even in adversity, or especially in adversity, perhaps. He spoke before churches, schools, civic groups, in waiting rooms, in restaurants. Whenever the opportunity opened up for him to speak, he was there to joyfully proclaim God’s goodness. He said he’d never known such peace and internal joy as he had through those last years of his life. It certainly showed. Every conversation centered on spiritual things. It was like he existed on a higher spiritual plane; he understood things that had eluded him before; he saw God’s hand in everything. He faced death with courage and anticipation for a better world where he would be united with his Lord and Savior, Who had just become his new best Friend. And then he died. Ten years ago.

When I think of all that has transpired in our lives since then, ten years seems like a long time ago. Since then, I’ve had six books published; we’ve added a new daughter-in-law and four grandchildren. My boys have achieved so much; and John’s daughters have grown into beautiful young women—one in nursing school, and another with two babies of her own. John’s grandchildren. Oh, what joys we’ve had over ten long years without him. And then there have been the sorrows—but the joys have been much more abundant by the grace of God.

Ten long, short years ago my brother died. I promised him once that I’d always love him and never stop missing him. I’m keeping my promise. My dear. This is for you.

Feb

2016

Double Grief

People talk to me about grief. I spent over 20 years in hospice, so they know I’ve seen my share of pain and sorrow. I’ve always tried to be approachable whenever someone needs to talk about their loved one.

Recently, a sweet young woman approached me with a question regarding her mother, who has been told there is nothing else they can do for her. First, let me reiterate what I’ve written in a couple of my books—there may be nothing more that can be done medically for a patient, but there’s never a time when nothing more can be done to improve their comfort and quality of life. That’s one reason I love hospice as much as I do.

Losing a mother is hard. As my mom is fond of saying, “No one loves you like your mama.” I think that’s true. A mother’s love for her child is special, and unique. And no one else could love you that way. But the same is true of you. Who you are when you’re with your mom is probably different from who you are with other people—even your spouse or other family.

My mom and I share so much. We have our own language—one made from all our little private jokes and shared experiences. And I know I relate differently to her than to anyone else. Thankfully, I still have my mom. We still talk and laugh and have fun together. But if/when I lose her, I will also lose that part of me I am with only her.

That’s not true just with mothers. I think we adjust to the various close people in our lives—incorporating little differences that only the two of us share. That’s why anytime we grieve the loss of someone we love, we lose a little of ourselves. In this way, our grief is doubled. That’s why we can be grateful when we know our loved ones are in Heaven, but still so sad at their loss—because when they died, they took that part of us that belonged only to them. We miss them. And we miss who we are with them.

Fortunately, that’s not the end of the story. We will not grieve for eternity. Yes, time erases some of the intensity of our grief, but it never stops us from loving and missing that person. Yet, the Bible speaks of death as a temporary parting. One day there will be a reunion for believers in Jesus Christ—a glorious day surrounded by more love than our keenest imagination can invent. Oh, what a day that will be!

Dec

2015

Aging Jars of Clay

Some people are uncomfortable around old folks. I have rather an affinity for them. My work in hospice placed me in close, intimate proximity to the elderly—as the majority of my patients were older.

Even before that, I remember observing old people I encountered through my life. I’d especially study their eyes—trying to see the intelligence, humor, personality, and experience reflected there. For some reason, I’ve always been able to see them as older versions of myself—with skills, energy, physical stamina, their own kind of beauty, passion, and interesting experiences. My imagination allows me the freedom to recreate them into the way they must have looked in their youth. The common tendency in our society is just to see them as old, and all that comes with that–including their disposability.

Standing recently on the beach, I looked across the water, which has always been a spiritual experience for me. The beauty, the power of the water, the gentle breeze blowing softly through my hair, the sounds of the gulls overhead, the feel of the sun upon my skin, the smell of the salt in the air—all of it welling up within me, filling me up to overflowing with awe for a God so great that He could hold that immensity as but a drop in His hand.

It paints a pretty picture to imagine a beautiful 20-something flat-belly with cornflower eyes and long flaxen hair staring out across the ocean, her smooth, soft skin shimmering in the sunlight, her long, lithe, strong legs supporting her with the water lapping around her exquisite ankles.

Haha. I was kind of that girl once, about a million years ago. I may be forty years older and 100# heavier, but I’m the same person, and on the inside I still feel like I did when I was in my 20’s. When people see me now, do they see that girl of long ago? Or do they only see a fat, old lady with thinning hair taking up space on the beach? Perhaps they don’t even realize I’m looking out through the same eyes, feeling the same passion for life and waves and God as I did when I was young and fine. It’s not as pretty a picture, but it’s just as poignant to me.

Let me encourage you young people to try an experiment next time you find yourself sitting next to an elderly person. Instead of looking upon them as just taking up space in a world meant for the young, try to see them as a repository of rich stories, of relationships gone wrong—or right. These people were young once, too. They had dreams and hopes and aspirations. Some realized those dreams—others didn’t. But try to open the lid to see what’s inside. Remember, when they look into your face, they’re looking through the same eyes they had when they were young and fine. You just might be surprised what you find in their depths.

Nov

2015

One of Those Weeks

Have you ever had one of those weeks where nothing seems to go as you want, everything your spouse says and does irritates you, you get bad news about friends and loved ones, your weight skyrockets out of control, and you don’t feel motivated to be productive? When all you want to do is eat, sleep, play computer games, watch TV, and read?

I’m having one of those weeks. And though I could point some fingers of blame, I know who the real culprit is—ME. When I get down like this I know at least two things are responsible for my bad attitude.

I have fallen into an undisciplined lifestyle.
I have failed to spend quality alone time with the Lord.

I don’t exactly know what set me off, but I suddenly realize that I’m not writing regularly, that I’ve let the diet go, that I’m not spending daily time with the Lord, that I’m not going to bed early enough to get a good night’s rest, that I’m not exercising regularly, or spending regular time in the word. In other words, I’ve allowed myself to become undisciplined in the last week or so. That leads to feeling that my life is out of control. I think that is the reason for these doldrums. It’s not what anyone else has done to me—but what I’ve done to myself.

And I know exactly what steps to take to get me out of this funk—the first one being to go sit on my back porch for an hour and confess my sin to God, then spend some quality time in fellowship and prayer with Him. Then I need to take control of my life—of the things for which I’m responsible. I need to exercise, eat right, drink water, go to bed at a reasonable hour, keep to my writing schedule, and enjoy some daily quiet time.

You might ask why I’m confessing so publicly to such a bad attitude. It’s because I enjoy my role of being a Titus 2 woman. “Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled,” Titus 2:3-5.

In this blog post, it seems I’m teaching the younger women that we all have times when we feel a little down, unmotivated and far from holy. It happens. But there are two bits of advice I feel I should pass along to you about this.

Even though we all do it, and it’s a natural tendency we share, it’s never right to wallow in it. Obviously, I’m the last person to judge others for getting down occasionally—even someone as usually buoyant as I am. So visit the blues if you must, but don’t live in them. Get yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again, as the song goes.
As with most problems, this one is caused or worsened by a lack of face-time with God. When you recognize you’re falling into a funk, ask yourself if you’re spending adequate time with your Savior, if you’re singing hymns of praise to Him, if your heart is joyful with the truths you discover daily in His word. If the answer is no (and I suspect it might be), then run to Him. He is the cure for all our ills and the only true source of our hope.

I’ll close with my brother, John’s, favorite verse:

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope,” Romans 15:13.

Only in Him can we find the hope and motivation and inspiration we need to live pleasing to Him. Only in Him can we remember the joy that keeps us living and loving in such a way that sets us apart from those who have no hope.

Sep

2015

Let There Be Light

One of the themes of the Bible is the contrast between light and dark. Light, associated with Christ and with good, speaks to revelation—it allows us to see clearly so that we may understand what is shown to us. Darkness, associated with Satan and with evil, speaks to a world where things are hidden, where people stagger and grope around blindly.

My son and I were discussing this the other day and he voiced it in a way I’d never thought about before. We are all born into darkness. And we get comfortable there. We like it. We can’t see that we’re covered with filth. Ignorance is bliss—or at least we perceive that it is. We don’t even know we’re filthy. We stumble around not even realizing we’re blind. We’re okay with that world, satisfied with our fleshly appetites and mistakenly think we look pretty good.

But one day the light penetrates our darkness and reveals that we are covered in filth! We had no idea! This filth is horrifying and the stench is unbearable. For some, the light is the worst thing that could happen to them because now they can see what they are. For others, the light is the best thing—for the same reason.

At that time, humanly speaking, we have two choices. We can scurry, like cockroaches, back into the darkness where we’re comfortable with our filth. Or we can look for a way to get clean!

We may even try to wipe the filth away ourselves but our efforts leave us exhausted, hopeless and covered with more filth than ever. We understand at that point that we need a Savior—that on our own we cannot become clean. And so we look to Christ as our Savior in faith and stand before Him as He instantly removes the filth and leaves us clothed in His righteousness.

I’ve heard it said that we don’t truly see the beauty of the Good News of Christ until we’ve first understood the bad news of our depravity. Christ is that light that exposes who we are and freely offers the grace that bathes us in His glory.

He exposes. Light exposes. The word exposes. And if we belong to Him, we respond with gratitude and praise. From that time on, we relish the light and loathe the darkness.

Through contact with Him, we absorb that light, embracing it and eventually reflecting it. We “glow in the dark ‘till the Lord returns,” (Andy Mineo, Let There Be Light).

What about you? When the light of Truth exposes your filth, will you scurry back into the darkness or run to the only one Who can make you clean?

“. . . for at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true), and try to discern what is pleasing to the Lord. Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them,” Ephesians 5:8-11.

Sep

2015

Who’s the Boss of Sex?

I love kissing my husband. I’d do it a lot more if he didn’t think that every time I kiss him I’m wanting sex. And though I’ve explained this concept to him many times in our nearly 29 years together, it’s something he just doesn’t seem to comprehend, regardless of his keen intellect. It must be a “man thing.”

The next words out of my mouth were going to be, “Believe me, if I want sex I’ll let you know!” when it dawned on me—“Who died and made me the boss of when we have sex?” That question led to this post—a bit controversial, perhaps, because it’s about that s-e-x word, but there it is!

Making love sets your relationship with your husband apart from every other relationship. It’s the one thing you do together that nobody else has! As such, it’s a special expression of your love, respect, and God-given earthly passion. This connection is vital to the way we react to each other overall. Its tenderness is a physical manifestation of the love you have for each other.

In most of the couples counseling we’ve done, we’ve noticed a trend that the wife is usually the one who calls the shots regarding the frequency of sex—she controls how often her husband “gets” to have sex! Because of that, more husbands are feeling deprived at a time when nearly everything in this world entices them to stray—in their thoughts, if not in reality.

As long as both partners enjoy their sexual relationship to the same degree, there’s usually no problem. They are each other’s object of desire and rest fulfilled in the intimacy they share. The problem occurs when the wife doesn’t feel that way and begins to refuse sex for many reasons:

Exhaustion.
Headache or other malady.
Too busy.
A diminished libido.
Resentment has erased her desire for intimacy.
And the list goes on and on.

So I’m not really speaking here to the ones who have no problem with this. I’m addressing the ones who do—and may or may not realize it.

Don’t get me wrong, ladies. I know your husband’s timing can stink sometimes. At those times, you just want to say, “Now? Seriously?”

Yet, we marry men. We don’t marry little boys needing correction. And we want our men to be . . . well, men! Do we really want men who allow us to completely determine the frequency of their sex life? Do we want them that domesticated?

Most of the time, both parties are “in the mood for love.” But let’s face it, ladies. Depending upon what’s going on in each of our lives, it could be weeks between lovemaking if we had sex only when we were in the mood. Is that fair to our husbands? And is that our role in the eyes of the Lord? Are we to dole out sex to our husbands as we see fit?

I Corinthians 7:1-5 speaks clearly to this issue. “Now concerning the matters about which you wrote: ‘It is good for a man not to have sexual relations with a woman.’ But because of the temptation to sexual immorality, each man should have his own wife and each woman her own husband. The husband should give to his wife her conjugal rights, and likewise the wife to her husband. For the wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. Likewise, the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does. Do not deprive one another, except perhaps by agreement for a limited time, that you may devote yourselves to prayer, but then come together again, so that Satan may not tempt you because of your lack of self-control,” (emphasis added).

What? Am I saying sometimes you might need to have sex with your husband even if you’re not in the mood? Yes! I’ve actually had sex when I’ve not felt 100% well, when I’ve had a headache, when I’ve had something else I’d rather do, when I’m not in the mood, and when I’m exhausted. That’s not because my husband is insensitive—he is very sensitive to me. It’s because I cared more about his needs than my own. And it didn’t kill me. How about that? But you know what it did do? It honored my husband, and therefore, honored God.

Not that I’m the standard, by any means. I’m imperfect. My attitude in the first paragraph demonstrates that. But I do love my husband and I’m an advocate for other women to examine their own attitudes and behaviors to see if they may have a wee problem in this area.

Before the hate mail starts coming in from wives everywhere, and thank you cards by the thousands from their husbands, let me end by clarifying it this way. In an ideal world, we would both be equally motivated to have sex every time. But we don’t live in an ideal world. Sometimes one or the other of us may be called upon to do something because we care more about our spouse’s needs than our own. Imagine that!

It’s true that the husband needs to be considerate of his wife in regard to his desires. But ladies, we must not emasculate our husbands by taking away their rights and forcing them to repress their desires. Love seeks to please. We understand this for the first six months of marriage. Let us remember it for the rest of it, as well.

Counseling

The Heartbreaking Pain of Loneliness

Christ, Our Firm Foundation

God, Our Comfort in Times of Trouble

Home Sweet Home!

For John

Double Grief

Aging Jars of Clay

One of Those Weeks

Let There Be Light

Who’s the Boss of Sex?

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