The Gift That Keeps Giving

Christianity has often been misunderstood as standing against sex … of any sort. For many, they thought sex was a necessary evil. You did it to obey the command to “be fruitful and multiply,” but not for pleasure. Not for fun. Not to be enjoyed. So they set aside Song of Solomon as a piece about Christ and the Church. But … it wasn’t. It was a piece about the beauty of sex in marriage. Then came Paul.

Paul really set things straight.

Now concerning the things about which you wrote, it is good for a man not to touch a woman. But because of immoralities, each man is to have his own wife, and each woman is to have her own husband. The husband must fulfill his duty to his wife, and likewise also the wife to her husband. The wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does; and likewise also the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does. (1 Cor 7:1-4)

How anyone can conclude that sex is a “necessary evil” is beyond me. Paul commands married couples to have sex. It must be exclusive between them. It is a duty that must be performed. It isn’t evil; it’s commanded.

That last set of instructions is particularly interesting on the topic. It turns the common approach on its ear. We generally think that the spouse is there to please you. The complaint is “She doesn’t want to do what I want” or something like it. Paul says, “You’re confused. Your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re there … for her.” The husband is there to please the wife … to satisfy her wishes.

God has commanded husbands and wives to have and enjoy sexual relations. Imagine that. It is mutual submission. It is mutual giving. It was the original intent in marriage (Gen 2:24; Matt 19:4-6; Eph 5:31-32; 1 Cor 6:16). And it’s a wonderful thing. So why do we have such a difficult time with it?

For all Scripture’s clarity about the goodness of marital intimacy, Christians still struggle with it … and not because the Bible is unclear, but because we are shaped by voices other than Scripture.

Some of us inherited a version of Christianity that confused holiness with discomfort, as if anything pleasurable must be suspect. Others absorbed cultural shame around the body … a sense that physical desire is somehow less spiritual or less worthy than prayer, service, or study. Still others entered marriage carrying wounds, fears, or misunderstandings that make intimacy feel complicated rather than joyful.

But Paul’s teaching cuts through all of that. He doesn’t treat sex as a concession to weakness or a barely tolerated necessity. He treats it as an expression of mutual self‑giving, rooted in the same kind of love Christ shows His people. The husband gives himself to his wife; the wife gives herself to her husband. Not grasping, not demanding, not withholding, but offering.

When we recover that vision, sex stops being a battleground, a bargaining chip, or a source of anxiety. It becomes what God intended from the beginning: a covenantal act of unity, joy, and mutual care. The difficulty comes when we forget that. The healing begins when we remember it.