What Modesty Culture Taught Me

I read an article the other day and it got my mind racing. For complete context, I would suggest reading that article first before completing this one.

As a man who continually wrestling with lust and pornography, this article hit me hard. The “virtues” of modesty culture, the lies that the church conditioned me to believe and that I convinced myself to take as truth.

Guarding your heart to prevent relational issues. Dressing a certain way to please the conservative consensus. Shifting most, if not all, of the responsibility of remaining pure to a particular gender (mainly women). It’s no wonder why it feels like crossing a minefield blindfolded just to initiate a conversation with the opposite sex.

Don’t be a stumbling block

The idea of a stumbling block refers to situations or habits that causes a believer to back track into sin. Or it can be interpreted as a person that is distracting you from Christ. I look at the following verses as affirming both interpretations:

Romans 14:13,

“Therefore let us not pass judgment on one another any longer, but rather decide never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of a brother.”

1 Corinthians 8:9,

“But take care that this right of yours does not somehow become a stumbling block to the weak.”

If I am being a stumbling block, I humbly ask how I cannot be one. After all, as a brother in Christ, my main goal is to edify you. But sometimes, my emotions take over all logic. Even ignoring scriptural truth that “the heart is deceitful” (Jeremiah 17:9). So I won’t pretend that I’m exempt from the occasional rebuke. I’m still learning how to separate love and infatuation.

Stay within your group.

I think the church has devalued male-female friendship. It’s an imbalance that I think the church masquerades as a necessity. The status quo that must be obeyed without question. And I think it’s more of a sign of the church’s unwillingness to progress with modern-day relationship dynamics.

Speaking from personal experience, I’ve always been relegated to just being around guys for accountability and purity purposes. And while it took a lot of maturing to accept the spiritual benefits of male friendships, I still felt an emptiness of female friendship.

Paul writes in Ephesians 4:1–7,

“I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called,

with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love,

eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

There is one body and one Spirit — just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call —

one Lord, one faith, one baptism,

one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

But grace was given to each one of us according to the measure of Christ’s gift.”

As we build these walls, I wonder whether it’s out of holiness or fear of invasion. I look at my female relationships within the church and see the latter. Hurtful, indifferent, or caring out of obligation. No sense of direction or purpose. We’re only friends because we’re both Christians or serve in the same ministry.

Are we friends or work partners?

Outside of the church, I’ve had plenty of female friends. Some of which I called best friends. Although their faith wasn’t evident, these were girls I could confide in and talk to. No need to deal with modesty culture rules or empty phrases that encourage separation. But a direct connection that was imperfect, real, and beautiful.

Of course, there were boundaries that I had to adhere to. Limits to the amount of times we could spend together, the types of conversations to have, and so on. But it didn’t need to be enforced. There was an unspoken mutual understanding that naturally led to a connection. It makes me wonder why I can’t experience this same treatment from the same church I’m called to serve and love.

Fear of man (and woman)

Am I terrified of women?

Yes and no.

Yes, in that first impression is everything. As someone who has trust issues, it’s hard for me to look women in the eyes or even initiate conversation for fear that I may take it too far. Break some sort of unspoken law that may determine the future of our interactions. The paranoia sets in. The fear that maybe she will see through my Christian facade and see a broken man not of worthy of grace and love.

No, in that I can easily detach if you want nothing to do with me. It’s almost a superpower I developed from my tendency to be a loner. I’m now in a season where I’m more content in singleness than I’ve ever been in my adult life. I almost see it as God granting me deliverance from constantly chasing relationship idols. If anything, I’m willing to respect the boundaries and see her as an image-bearer and daughter of God.

Teach a new lesson

I believe that modesty culture has good intentions. And that there should be guidelines on how we view and interact with each other. But these guidelines shouldn’t be laws to a dead religion that only brings death to relationships, connections, and trust.

Rather, I pray that we “aim for restoration, comfort one another, agree with one another” — and more importantly — “live in peace” (2 Corinthians 13:11). Especially with people who aren’t like you. People like me who are estranged and have to watch from the sidelines. People like me who struggle with low self-esteem and have a tough time believing they are not worthy of anything good.

I’m not trying to stage a rebellion or abolish the rules. But rather encourage a rethinking in how the church community functions. Let’s be a light of love for each other and the world. Let’s be willing to tear down these walls and build roads that converge to the narrow path.

Let’s be brothers and sisters united under one Father and his precious Son, our Elder Brother Jesus Christ.

How My Latent Biases Led to Being Scammed

When my husband and I decided to leave California behind and move to Germany in 2015, we figured it would be an adventure, to say the least. 

I took a break from my career in communications and marketing to manage the household, learn some German, and focus on writing a blog and short stories. He was coming off a work hiatus and eager to get back in the game. 

You learn a lot about yourself when you jump into another culture to live. You learn even more when you give up some sense of newfound stability to start over yet again.

After 18 months in Hamburg, my husband was caught in a company layoff--the second round in just six months. He knew it was coming, and had been looking for a new job. But the initial move had depleted our funds, and with a single income we were only slowly building back our nest egg. Could we afford another relocation in less than two years? 

Amid the hand-wringing of where to look, related financial implications, and the whirlwind of global interviews, our 16-year-old cat succumbed to kidney disease. For a no-kids two-cat couple, it was devastating. 

Our cat's response to yet another move.

Then came the stress of the move. From the ultra-competitive Munich housing market where listing agents didn’t even call back, to our first relocation agent who decided she didn’t need the work, to the moving company who decided that two guys would be enough to pack and load us when it had taken four guys to get us here. 

In our final 24 hours in Hamburg, there were last-minute doctor appointments, a late-night/early-morning cleaning and touch-up painting of the apartment, and the beginning of a 6-hour train ride to Bavaria with our resentful remaining cat.

All of this background is to show where my head was at when The Incident happened. The stress, the fatigue, and the reluctance to leave a place I’d come to love may be valid reasons to be off my game. But they could also just be excuses. 

The fact is, I got scammed. 

I cringe as I type it, because this would not have happened to the old me. I was too world-wise and cynical, sure of how things worked (and how they didn’t) to ever be snared by something so stupid. But the new me, the living-abroad me, could be said to be overly accepting about the new world around me. 

That stems, in part, from this inflated idea that I am setting an example as an American: “Hey, we’re not all self-centered isolationists. I’m learning some of the language and culture, I’m trying to be a decent world citizen.” (Especially these days, when everyone wants to understand the whole Trump thing.) 

No robbery, no Nigerian bank scheme.
This was the simple object of deception

So what happened? Long story short: Our new apartment didn't have a refrigerator. A week of negotiaing features led to Amazon.de, where I found a too-good-to-be-true model that fit all of our requirements, including price. After contacting the seller as requested in the listing, and following the instructions for a third-party transaction in the official-looking Amazon email I received, I sent the money, and we waited another several days in vain for our new frig.

Yes, I ignored clear warning signs. You can call it the tragedy of hope or optimism—when you want something so badly you make yourself see the stars aligning in your favor, and squelch any tinges of skepticism.

It's that hubris I mentioned above, taken to extreme, that led to my downfall. I got conned because of my unconscious bias about my own country--that we Americans have cornered the market on greed and opportunism, so surely I could let my guard down in my new life. 

In trying to focus so much on equality of thought, I forgot to consider all aspects of that equality. That it's okay to be cautious. Not because something is different, but because when something in you says this feels wrong, you need to learn more about it.

As I forgive myself for that part of my error, I have to come to grips with the other half. I truly believe it's an incomparable privilege to be an American, and to be able to criticize and praise my home equally. So where did this bias come from? 

Is it my reaction to our uneasy political climate and increased tolerance of bigotry? Is it born of the influence of the people around me? (I have been flabbergasted by some of the ideas locals and expats from other countries have about life in America.) 

It's something I need to explore further, but I think recognizing it is my first step forward. In the meantime, what do I do? Do I tell myself, “I told you so,” and go back to looking at the unfamiliar through skeptical eyes? Do I turn complex shades of different behaviors and customs into black-and-white comparisons of good v. bad or better v. worse? 

Even if I wanted to,  I don’t think I can. Not anymore. I think you are who you are at your core, but the layers you wear to protect that inner you can shrink, wear out, or just not feel flattering anymore. I’ve kept the pieces I want to keep from my old life, and shed the ones that were holding me back. 

It’s good to move forward with my eyes more open, but it needs to be matched by my ears and my mouth and my heart. I should think of the example I want to set as a human being, and not always think I have to pick up the mantle of my country or my race or whatever affiliation might have some stake in a particular situation.

There’s much more for me to learn about myself and the world around me, and I want to spend the rest of my life traveling down that path. 

I guess now I just have to be a bit more mindful of the ruts in the road.