the dangling conversation

Flattery doesn't travel very far in my life. A 60-year-old woman -- one that has lived an incredibly difficult life -- thinks that I'm the ultimate catch. My sarcastic, auto-piloted response: "Clearly."

Enduring a stormy childhood of sexual abuse and a lifetime of emotionally abusive lovers, she has come to the conclusion that young women have no idea what they need until they've suffered a multitude of wounds. For all the talk of men being the physically-minded gender, she admits that women speak well of their desires verbally, but ultimately pursue the hunky guy that tells them everything they want to hear.

I don't want to paint a sweeping generality: this is her opinion and not mine. But if her analysis proves to be the norm rather than the exception -- unfortunately, my experience as a man and a youth minister support this claim -- then I am due for grave disappointment in my longing for restoration.

Over the past year, God has done a work in my heart concerning my "purity pride," and this passage has rattled incessantly in my brain:

...Do not call anything impure that God has made clean. (Acts 10:13)

But what happens when the restored vessel continues to live according to her perceived impurity? If a woman finds herself of little worth, she will continue to offer herself to the pawn shop owner, regardless of the invaluable stamp the Father has placed on her. Male dumpster divers are more than eager to take advantage of the dire circumstance.

I can tackle lies by the truckload with His truth, but if shattered women perceive a broken man like myself to be beyond their worth, how much more will they run from the grace of God?

No answers today -- only questions.