“Sex has nothing to do with loyalty, we're not our parents." – The Politician, A Netflix Original
I laid in bed binge-watching one of Netflix's latest and greatest—rewind, play, rewind, play. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I mean, I could, but I didn't want to. The breath suddenly felt heavy in my lungs like bricks. I gritted my teeth, and I flared my nostrils as if to brace myself for the knots forming in my stomach.
This is the world in which we are raising our babies. This is what we are up against. An open and blatant lifestyle of sin is the new normal.
I jokingly talk about "my truth" all the time. Leggings, no makeup, and my husband’s extra-large tee shirt are "my truth." Eating a sleeve of those sugar cookies with the pumpkins on them is "my truth." But we've taken it a little more than too far and it's not funny anymore.
If it makes us feel good, then it must be our truth. Plastered across every billboard and social media post, “Do what makes YOU happy,” has become the anthem of our generation. A “get out of morals free card,” if you will.
We've created this atmosphere of entitlement and if it is “our truth,” then we will spare no expense. If it's shiny, it must be ours for the taking. And anything that contends this idea is deemed “toxic” or “negative energy.”
There is responsibility to be taken, but no one is claiming it.
With every commercial, every movie trailer, and every login to social media, we are exposed to the wiles of the enemy like no other generation has ever been exposed. In that same breath, just as much as we are exposed, we have more opportunities to live in secret than ever before. It is a moral cancer, spreading and digging its roots deep in dry soil. Hidden direct messages, texting apps that look like calculators, and "for my eyes only" folders on Snapchat. And not only do we have unlimited and immediate access to these things, but we are also encouraged, welcomed, and wooed to participate.
You can write this down, take it to the bank and cash it in, whatever you want to do with it, but I will never be quiet about this issue. Our babies will be raised in a home where mommy and daddy protect each other and the little eyes and ears we have been entrusted with at all costs – fiercely and totally.
In our home, loyalty, fidelity, and faithfulness will be what they are – black and white. Our boys will know their daddy's character and integrity by how he lives and loves their mama. Their model of a wife will be a mommy who prays for and loves their daddy fully, who is up before the sun battling hell with her Bible, just like my mama before me.
A home with Jesus as the Cornerstone is beautiful and fortified and intimate. The very moment that we leave the door unlocked, the very moment we make room for the world – it might as well be wide open. Knowing there is a hungry, prowling enemy just outside would be as good as inviting him in to sit at our table.
So, we will secure the doors of our babies’ hearts and our marriage just as we would secure the doors of our home before we go to bed.
"We're not our parents." True enough, but we are somebody's parents. I’m not naive enough to believe that my opinion is popular. I am aware that it becomes more unpopular every day.
I’m okay with being the “weird” friend that believes sex was created for marriage, who won’t let her kids watch Halloween movies, or who goes to extremes to protect her marriage even if it makes other people uncomfortable, but I refuse to let my legacy be that I backed down or left the doors unlocked.
