I opened the break room door. The smell of fajitas met me, along with a man in scrubs. He stood up and shook my hand—all six feet and four inches of him and looking like someone from People’s Most Beautiful 2015.

One minute, it’s a normal Friday. The next, I’m fully aware of my sexuality. For the rest of the day, every muscle buzzed as if I’d guzzled a gallon of coffee.

Photo courtesy of Lechon Kirb

I realize that we singles aren’t the only ones who have to keep our sex-drives on a leash (see: Celibacy Is No Fun). Married people run into flirty strangers, too, and have to deal with temptation like the rest of us. Still, being single and choosing to defer sexual enjoyment until marriage has its moments (and days) of frustration.

Life’s going fine and then a half-naked person pops up in our Facebook newsfeed. We’re watching a movie Saturday night and a sex scene comes on. We’ve been dating for five months and limiting physical contact to kissing feels impossible. 

These moments remind me of the yellow cockatiel I had as a kid. One day, she flew out of her cage. Seeing the green lawn outside, glistening in the sun, she flew towards it and crashed into the sliding glass door. 

Celibacy can feel like that door. God wired us for sex, but our decision to remain celibate until marriage—and God’s apparent lack of movement in the spouse department—gets in the way. 

So what do we do when our sex drives rev up—when we find our noses on the glass, longing for the world beyond? I think we have two options. 

We can bang our heads against the pane, begging for God to let us through, and giving ourselves a spiritual concussion in the process. Or, we can look for Jesus, find him on this side of the glass, and walk toward him. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to be out there, frolicking on the lawn. But, since Jesus is calling me to a different kind of life–at least for now, I don’t want to keep bashing my head against the glass. I’d rather turn and follow him.

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