“Love is intimacy without exploitation. That is true purity.”

While returning home to Australia after nine months with Action for Life, a nine month programme of IofC in Asia, I said this during the inevitable discussion on men that occurs amongst young female passengers on long plane trips. My fellow traveler's reaction was to burst out laughing, “A man of integrity – you can’t be serious – do they even exist!”

“Well yes, I’ve just spent nine months with quite a few men of integrity. Men who respect you, share their feelings openly, listen attentively, share your feelings, apologize when they have hurt you and willingly support you. Men who are honest and courageous enough to admit their mistakes in public, who
are good fun and great friends. Men who will make great husbands.” Sadly these two young women did not know such men. They were used to men who were disrespectful, selfish, even abusive and violent. Their hopes for marriage – the kind of marriage a woman wants, with love, support, and friendship – were very small.

On my return home, I have been sad to realise that while we live in affluence or even extravagance by many standards I had seen in poverty-stricken Asian countries, there is also a great poverty in the West. These young women looked at me with the kind of hungry eyes I had seen in the faces of beggars on the streets of India or Cambodia – hungry eyes because I possessed wealth they did not, a treasure-store of experience of love and support, faith in a God who cares about me and the world, trust that things can change and be better, enthusiasm and passion for life which includes hopes of marrying a man of integrity.

As a young woman in my thirties, I had long railed against God for my state of singleness and the lack of attractive men of faith in my vicinity. On Action for Life, when I finally did sit and listen to God’s still small voice speaking to me I realized that I wasn’t married simply because I did not want to be. I was terrified of marriage. Marriage implies intimacy, which means allowing someone to get close enough to really know you – and for me, that means running the risk of having someone discover all those things I hate about myself. Those things I think make me unlovable, those deep and hidden fears I try to hide even from myself. If I allow someone to get that close, as soon as they realize what a horrible person I really am, they will reject and abandon me. That is too great a risk. I came to realize how I had set up a pattern in my romantic relationships so that I always avoided intimacy and did not run the risk of ever getting married.

I think many people, especially young people, share this fear, yet because we are not willing to recognise it or to miss out on the ‘fun’ parts of romance and relationships we stumble from one painful, exploitative relationship to the other, never quite willing to face the truth about what is really happening. This has become standard in the West and I was saddened to see that along with MacDonald’s and other western imports, young Indians, Taiwanese and others are enthusiastically taking up this new trend.

I came across the best definition of love and purity, I had ever heard, during an open discussion on sexuality with the Action for Life team: “Love is intimacy without exploitation. That is true purity.” We exploit others and allow ourselves to be exploited in order to avoid true intimacy and therefore the risk of rejection. We do this not because we really enjoy it or because it is fulfilling and satisfying, but because of our fear and our lack of faith that real love and intimacy are possible – especially that they are possible for me.

Christina DeAngelis,
Social Worker, Australia