Seven years ago, in 2018, I wrote one of my most popular blog posts — a blog about whether or not “masturbation is a sin.” That piece was honest, imperfect, and deeply personal. I wrote it because I genuinely wanted to know if masturbating, as a Christian, was “wrong,” and I was tired of reading and hearing daft, narrow-minded, poorly researched, male-centred, fear-mongering, one-sided arguments — arguments either focused on lust (which I largely or often couldn’t relate to as a demisexual) or arguments that extolled the virtues of masturbation but didn’t acknowledge the spiritual and social implications. In short, I was looking for nuance and balance.
I wrote what I thought was an open-minded exploration of the morality of masturbation. I tried to present all arguments I could find — both “worldly” and Christian/Adventist, scientific and spiritual — including a much-neglected and often unapplied equity lens. After reading the work of several psychologists, sexologists, religious leaders and of course my own Bible study, I came to the conclusion that masturbation was in a grey area morally. Not bad or good, not necessarily wrong or right, but could fall into either territory depending on context, purpose and personal, spiritual conviction.
It resonated with thousands—including widows, single folks, and older adults—who reached out in the comments to say: ‘Thank you for saying this out loud.’”
Some people, however, viewed the article as some kind of articulation of my own sexual practices. Because I dared to be sympathetic and acknowledge that there can arguably be some merit to masturbation, people took my aim to be balanced as outright encouragement and advocacy to masturbate. People assumed I was “struggling” simply because I explored the topic with nuance.
Under my YouTube video, one man simply told me to “Repent” (for what, I still do not know.). Under the blog post itself, I surprisingly received a lot of comments from widows in their sixties struggling with masturbation (you mean the horniness follows us into old age?!!!). I also read comments from other Christians who remained obstinate and utterly convinced, despite the information I presented, that masturbation was a sin. They could not acknowledge any other viewpoint than “masturbation = sin.” While it’s okay to disagree with me and I don’t always get things right, it was almost as if most of them hadn’t understood the point of my blog post and refused to consider and engage with the ideas presented, or, at the very least, didn’t care to read the post before commenting. I had explicitly said it was a gray area and that I wasn’t advocating for either position.
I left the post alone for years. While provocative, I said the things that no one was saying, I tried to contribute some intellectual rigour to a conversation that often felt too narrow-minded and judgmental, and I wrote the type of post that I would have wanted to read and wish I had found as a young person searching for grounded information on such an unnecessarily controversial and taboo topic. I wanted guidance on what to do with sexual desire, grounded both in Scripture and reality. It wasn’t about “finding justification” for anything. It was (and is) about developing my own sexual ethic — a biblical, practical, intellectually honest one.
Since then, I’ve continued wrestling with this topic, both theologically and practically. I have reflected on the forces and influences that have shaped my understanding of sexuality — for good and for worse. I’ve read more Scripture, done more living, and found myself asking new questions like: Why didn’t Paul mention masturbation at all? Why is marriage lifted up as a remedy for desire? And: What does it mean to live as a sexual being made in God’s image if partnership never comes? I’ve remained unmarried and still have not had sex, and so I have had to grapple in a very real way with how to steward my sexuality, especially since spouses are not promised to any of us. Churches largely don’t do right by Christian singles — if you are over the age of 35 and unmarried, they often have little to offer by way of guidance, support, inclusion, compassion and understanding. I’m on the asexual spectrum, and most pastors still don’t even care to know what 2SLGBTQ+ means, so they haven’t figured someone like me into their theologies. Most pastors and theologians lack and have not been exposed to my lived complexity. I have had to grapple with sexual identity, expression, and the implications for health and well-being in a way that few others have at my age and in my position.
(As an aside, I don’t take kindly to married people who got married in their early twenties giving advice to single, adult, never-married Christians in their 30s and 40s about sexuality. You can tell these poor folks not to masturbate and have sex all you want, but after service, you get to go home and make love to your wife. You have regular access to coochie [regrettably, most pastors are male, hence my heteronormative example]. I don’t take kindly to people who are having sex telling people who are not having sex or who have never had sex that they should just not have sex and are not missing out. So I thought it important to write this as someone currently in hell on the journey.)
A month ago, I went to a meetup of women who experience pain with penetration (vaginismus, vulvodynia, vestibulodynia and other genito-pelvic pain and penetration disorders). As we mixed and mingled, the topic of masturbation came up and I explained my views. One woman in her fifties, who I later found out was also a Seventh-day Adventist like me — the world is very small — talked about her pain with penetration as a menopausal divorcée. She never had an orgasm while married and only experienced her first orgasm on her own after her divorce. “You spend your life being told to close your legs, but no one tells you how to open them,” she said, her words dripping with regret. Another young woman asked me how I was able to reconcile masturbation with my faith as a Christian. It was then that I knew I needed to update my blog. This updated post is for her, for them, and all women reclaiming their pleasure and sexual agency from patriarchal sexual ethics that never had them or their best interests in mind.
I also keep reflecting on an AY service back in 2010-ish (Adventist Youth; some other churches refer to this as youth group) when we discussed masturbation.
I was ordained as an elder at 22, the youngest and first “young elder” at my church at the time. Because of my age and my previous experience in youth ministries (Sabbath School teacher, AY leader, Pathfinder, Master Guide), I was assigned to youth ministries. We had an “Ask the Pastor” series for AY one evening. An anonymous young man asked how to stay sexually pure with strong hormones. The senior pastor responded with a generalized answer, but said the question was about masturbation. He said masturbation is wrong, sinful, and “self-abuse.” He had a doctorate in ministry, a background as a leader in Family Life ministries, and had taught theology at the university level — but the response felt simplistic. The associate pastor brought up Onan. They asked me if I wanted to add anything and handed me the mic, and I vigorously shook my head. I said nothing because I didn’t want to “out” myself, I genuinely didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to give shallow advice.
A nurse who was present in the audience that evening clarified not to confuse medical dilator use with masturbation. The pastors agreed — but the conversation was very male-centred. The senior pastor also said men don’t need to masturbate because they have wet dreams, and “women have something else” (but he didn’t specify what). I went home deeply troubled. Their interpretation of Onan felt inaccurate: I was disturbed that people with MDiv and D.Min degrees were misreading Scripture. The conversation excluded women’s perspectives entirely. It also ignored non-heterosexual sexualities, because churches only think in straight male terms. Church discourse assumes masturbation always involves lust. As a demisexual who doesn’t typically experience primary sexual attraction, lust is not really something I struggle with (it’s not that demisexuals can’t experience lust — they can — but the arousal pathways for those on the asexual spectrum are different from those who are allosexual), so an argument that hinges on lust is not convincing to me or as compelling as it can be. This lack of nuance pushed me further into study, because I have been so underserved in church spaces.
On Instagram, I kept coming across posts from women who talked triumphantly about how they overcame the “sin of masturbation.” And while it was great and I was happy for them, I couldn’t help but wonder if they actually believed that masturbation was a sin, or just assumed and internalized that it was a sin because someone else told them that it was sinful. Was it triumph over sin, or triumph over shame? Was their shame intrinsic or externally imposed and taught? (The Holy Spirit never shames by the way. He convicts, never condemns.) I wondered if people were experiencing learned guilt over something that wasn’t necessarily guilt-inducing, because guilt is not always an accurate indicator of what is wrong or sinful.
When people decry masturbation, I have to wonder if it’s actual discomfort with sin, or if it’s discomfort with pleasure? Is it discomfort with sin, or is it discomfort with a woman exercising her sexual agency? Is it discomfort with sin, or is it the projection of shame and your own discomfort with sex? Is it discomfort with sin or is it discomfort with the animalistic, primal nature of sex — an act that often encourages letting loose and loosening your grip on control, an experience that makes you have to inhabit your flesh and connect with your body, despite religious indoctrination that encourages disembodiment?
As a Zumba instructor who sometimes incorporates sexy dance moves in her routines and choreo, I have witnessed time and time again in my classes that a lot of people are uncomfortable with sexual and non-sexual self-touch; many of these people if Christians and if asked might probably say it’s because of sin as opposed to the real reason, which is a lack of comfort with and in their bodies. If it’s truly discomfort with sin, then fine, but let’s just make sure we’re not using “sin” as a convenient cover that keeps us from any further exploration and interrogation.
I think masturbation can absolutely be sinful. I’m also asking people to open their minds to the possibility that it may not be, and that sometimes it may actually be necessary, practical or realistic.
And as I have continued to figure out my own sexual ethic over the years, as well as what it means to be a sexual being in a fallen world, and as I have developed my equity lens, I realized that I still had much more to say, not just about masturbation, but about sex, sexuality… and God. There continues to be a need for a perspective that’s not male-centred and steeped in patriarchy, but one that is feminist, embodied, trauma-informed and anti-oppressive (I know I probably lost half of you by saying that, but this perspective is actually not anathema to the Bible — it’s fully aligned). In short, I needed to build on that initial blog post on masturbation from seven years ago, not as masturbation advocacy per se, but to share some additional, important considerations that I don’t hear discussed and create a theology that makes room for people on the margins like me.
Let’s start at the beginning, which is a very good place to start.
Does Masturbation = Sex?
Is masturbation sex?
In my initial article, I defined what masturbation is. Whether masturbation is sex depends on how you define sex. Traditionally, “sex” often refers to sexual acts involving two or more people. Many experts and sex educators also include solo sexual activity—like masturbation—under the broader umbrella of sexual behaviour. Masturbation is a sexual activity because it involves sexual arousal, sexual pleasure, and often orgasm. It’s sexual, even if it’s done by yourself and to yourself. It might not be “sex” in the sense of partnered sexual intercourse, but masturbation is definitely a sexual act.
As an aside, it’s important not to define sex too narrowly (i.e. sexual intercourse, “penis-in-vagina” or “PIV”, penetrative sex) because that excludes other valid sexual expression, particularly of marginalized communities. It also gives false assurance. The idea that sex only “counts” if a penis enters a vagina is patriarchal and male pleasure-centred.
Many people (heterosexual and homosexual, able-bodied and disabled and more) are not able to have penis-in-vagina sex (or simply don’t want to). Instead, they enjoy a panoply of other sexual acts that help them design a sex life on their terms. They, indeed, are having “sex,” even though penetration may or may not be involved. In other words, you don’t need penetration to have sex.
Then there are people who have done every sort of sexual act — oral sex, anal sex, “motorboating,” hand jobs, masturbation, fingering, fisting, kunyaza, frottage, “soaking” (in LDS circles) — but will claim that they have never had sex on account of the technicality that the one thing they haven’t had is a penis entering a vagina. That doesn’t make any real sense. Those people have been sexually active, even if they have not had sexual intercourse.
Is masturbation part of having a sex life?
Absolutely. A sex life isn’t limited to what you do with other people. Many people’s sexual lives include masturbation, sexual fantasies, erotic media, or other solo sexual experiences. So even if someone isn’t having sex with partners, if they masturbate, they do have a sex life—it’s simply a solo one.
People often talk about “having a sex life” as though it only means partnered sex, but that’s a narrow view. Your sexual life is about your entire relationship with sexuality—your desires, your practices, your fantasies, and how you experience pleasure, whether solo or shared.
Not acknowledging that one can have a sex life by themselves puts partnered sex and sexual intercourse on an unearned pedestal and sends the message that one’s sexual relationship with oneself is inferior, less than, not legitimate and therefore shameful.
In short:
Masturbation is a sexual act.
Masturbation means you have a sex life, even if you’re not engaging with partners.
What is Sexual Immorality?
While the Bible does not prohibit masturbation explicitly, the Bible does prohibit sexual immorality. So, one must ask, “Does masturbation fall under the umbrella of sexual immorality?” and, by extension, “Does the Bible actually prohibit all sexual acts outside of marriage—or just sexual intercourse?”
Let’s break it down:
What does the Bible actually say?
The Bible does not contain a direct, comprehensive sexual ethic the way churches often present it. Instead, it references sexual acts and ideals in cultural, historical, and situational ways. Most of what we call “biblical sexual ethics” are interpretations and extrapolations rather than direct commands.
Here are a few key points:
- The terms “fornication” and “sexual immorality” (Greek: porneia) are often cited, but their meanings are not precisely defined in Scripture. Porneia was a catch-all term, and its exact application is debated. It can refer to adultery, prostitution, or general illicit sexual behaviour—but what’s considered illicit? That varies by culture.
- Marriage in biblical times = sex. In many biblical narratives, sex = marriage. There were often no wedding ceremonies as we currently know them. A marriage became official through consummation (Deut. 22:13-21, Genesis 24:67). So “sex outside of marriage” was, in a sense, a contradiction in ancient terms: sex created the marital bond.
- No verse says, for instance, “thou shalt not perform oral sex outside of marriage.” Those boundaries are implied by extrapolating from cultural ideals around purity, holiness, and marriage—but not spelled out.
What modern Christians have done
Modern church teachings often take biblical texts (e.g., 1 Corinthians 6:18–20, Hebrews 13:4) and expand them to cover any sexual act outside of a civil or religiously recognized marriage. But that’s not an automatic or self-evident conclusion. It’s a cultural construction of sexual ethics, often shaped by:
- Greek dualism (which divided spirit vs. body)
- Purity culture
- Misogynistic interpretations
- Colonial and Victorian sexual norms
Church culture has blurred the line between sexual intercourse and all sexual expression, when biblically, there is no consensus or detailed sexual taxonomy.
What if the Bible’s concern is about covenantal care, not just mechanics?
It’s possible that the thrust of biblical sexual ethics is not “how far is too far” but:
- Is this relationship mutual, consensual, and just?
- Are people being exploited or harmed (as in rape, adultery, coercion)?
- Is there faithfulness, respect, and love?
From that lens, some Christians (especially progressive or liberationist ones) argue that ethical sex is defined more by the quality of the relationship than the structure (married or not).
Is Masturbation a Sin?
“Ok then. If masturbation is sex, and masturbation may or may not count as sex outside of marriage, and masturbation may or may not count as sexual immorality, is masturbation a sin?“
Firstly, if you haven’t read my initial post on this topic, I strongly encourage you to start there. The following arguments assume you have read this first.
For that reason, I won’t be restating or re-explaining arguments about your body being a holy temple (1 Cor. 6:19), cultivating the fruits of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22, 23) including self-control, Jesus’ prohibition against lust (Matt. 5:27, 28), or thinking about holy and excellent things (Phil 4:8) especially as it relates to sexual fantasies. All of those verses and principles apply here to this current discussion. (Many people argue that guilt/shame after masturbation is a clue that it is wrong, and I don’t entirely agree. Guilt is not always an accurate indicator of wrongdoing. I talk about guilt and shame in my first article, which I think is worth a read.)
But first, for the sake of level-setting:
“What is sin? And how does masturbation relate to that definition?”
Let’s explore this deeply, theologically, and compassionately.
What is sin? A layered definition
Sin is anything that breaks relationship—with God, with self, or with others.
I do not believe that masturbation is inherently sinful (as we will discuss below), but it can become sinful if it leads to:
- Objectification (e.g., through exploitative porn and lust)
- Addiction or compulsion
- Avoidance of intimacy or growth
- Acting against your own conscience
But if it leads to:
- Peace
- Gratitude
- Honesty
- Self-knowledge
- Bodily dignity
- A deeper reverence for your own design
- Fruits of the spirit (like self-control)
Then it is not sin. It may be or can be considered stewardship.
There isn’t just one biblical definition of sin—there are multiple angles Scripture gives us.
A. Sin as transgression of the law (1 John 3:4)
“Everyone who sins breaks the law; in fact, sin is lawlessness.”
This is the classic definition: sin is breaking God’s moral law (e.g., Ten Commandments).
But here’s the key: masturbation is not listed in any moral law of Scripture (see also see also Prov. 3.1, Matt. 5:17, Rom. 2:12, 3:19).
B. Sin as disobedience
Sin is also doing (or not doing) something God says to do (or not do) (e.g. Adam and Eve eating the fruit, Jonah not going to Nineveh, Uzzah touching the Ark of the Covenant, or even Onan and his withdrawl method).
It must be noted that the Bible is a relatively new invention. The people in the Bible didn’t have the Bible. At most, especially for those in the New Testament, they only had the Torah or the Tanakh (three divisions of the Hebrew Bible: Torah (Law/Teaching), Nevi’im (Prophets), and Ketuvim (Writings)).
Moral law doesn’t have to be written to be obeyed (Psalm 119:11). Adam and Eve sinned, and Abraham and Moses knew how they should act, even before the Ten Commandments were given to them. The Ten Commandments is a codification of moral law, but moral law existed before the Commandments (e.g. the Sabbath existed in Genesis before the the Commandments were ever written down and given to Moses).
C. Sin as anything “not of faith” (Romans 14:23)
“…and everything that does not come from faith is sin.”
Here’s where context and conscience matter. Paul is talking about “disputable matters”—like eating certain foods or observing holy days.
If your conscience is convicted, and you act against it, that’s sin for you.
But if someone else, in good conscience, acts with integrity, it may not be sin for them.
D. Sin as “missing the mark” (Greek: hamartia)
This is the most foundational concept.
Sin is not just a list of forbidden acts. It’s falling short of the life God created us for:
- Falling short of love
- Falling short of trust
- Falling short of alignment with God’s design and purpose
This view opens the door for a much more nuanced understanding of sin—especially when dealing with human complexity, desire, and embodiment.
So, how do we evaluate masturbation within that framework?
Let’s take each angle:
Is masturbation a transgression of the law?
No.
There’s no commandment against it. There’s no consistent biblical witness that singles it out as a moral failure. The few verses people use (e.g., Onan, Matthew 5:28) are either about something else entirely or require interpretive leaps.
Is masturbation sinful if it violates your conscience?
Possibly.
If you’re masturbating in a way that goes against your values (e.g., relying on porn that you feel is harmful, doing it compulsively as an escape from life), then yes, it could be sin for you.
But that’s not about the act itself—it’s about the posture of the heart, and the fruit it bears in your life.
Is masturbation “missing the mark”?
Here’s the real question:
- Does it lead you toward God, wholeness, care for your body, self-awareness, and peace?
- Or does it lead you toward shame, avoidance, dependency, disconnection, or self-idolatry?
If your practice of masturbation:
- Objectifies people (read: reducing them to utilitarian objects, using them sexually as an end in itself) instead of recognizing them as fellow image bearers (imago dei) (e.g. certain porn depictions, lusting after and having sexual fantasies about people and exploiting them for your own use)
- Is a substitute for connection
- Hurts people (including yourself)
Then arguably, yes, it “misses the mark” of what God wants for His children. (The same above considerations also apply to sex and really any other action in the life of a Christian).
If your practice of masturbation is:
- Intentional
- Ethically rooted
- Spiritually honest
- And doesn’t harm others (directly or through dehumanizing media)
Then no, it is not “missing the mark.”
It can (arguably) be an act of wise stewardship and sacred embodiment.
Couldn’t you argue that masturbation misses the mark of what the fullness of sexuality or sexual expression ought to be?
If God designed sexuality for relational, covenantal, mutual, embodied love… doesn’t masturbation fall short of that? Doesn’t it miss the mark?
Yes, you absolutely could argue that. And that would be a valid, theologically grounded, and spiritually thoughtful position—depending on what you believe the “fullness” of sexuality is meant to be.
Yes—masturbation can be seen as “missing the mark” of the ideal
If we take the view:
- Sex is designed for union (Genesis 2:24)
- Sex mirrors covenant (Ephesians 5:31–32)
- Sex is mutual, embodied intimacy (1 Corinthians 7:3–5)
- And sexuality is a language of communion, not just sensation and transaction
Then yes—masturbation could be seen as a fragment, not the whole.
It may give release or relief, but not:
- Shared vulnerability
- Witness
- Interpersonal knowing (e.g. Genesis 4:1, 1 Samuel 1:19 – The verb “knew” is a common biblical English translation (especially in the King James Version) of the Hebrew word yada (יָדַע), which is used as a euphemism for sexual intercourse. It implies a deep, intimate, personal knowing that goes beyond just the physical act.)
- Sacred mutuality
In this view, masturbation isn’t sin in a condemnatory sense, but it might be seen as incomplete, less than, or not what sex was ultimately created to be.
It’s the difference between a snack and a feast — nourishing in a way, but not quite the full meal.
But the follow-up question is:
Does every “less than” act = sin?
No. There’s a difference between:
- Falling short maliciously
vs. - Doing the best you can in the situation you’re in
God often blesses or permits less-than-ideal things:
- Polygamy in the Old Testament
- Divorce (Jesus calls it a concession, not God’s design)
- Kingship in Israel (God didn’t want Israel to have kings, but allowed it and worked within it)
- Paul saying “it’s better to marry than to burn” (1 Cor. 7:9)—an allowance, not a command
One might argue that God did not bless polygamy and that every time you saw polygamy in the Bible, there was a lot of hurt and confusion. One could argue that God permitted divorce and that it was His permissive will and not His perfect will. One could argue that kingship in Israel, again, was His permissive will, not His perfect will, because God Himself wanted to be their King. These stories are warnings and not endorsements. It’s an example of God letting people have free will and live out the consequences of that free will, and letting people know what the perfect ideal is to begin with.
In terms of God’s perfect will versus His permissive will, I think masturbation is not necessarily “less than” any other sexual act and can be considered part of the perfect will of God, or at the very least, a neutral act that is not an affront to the perfect will of God. But to the extent that it is seen as “missing the mark,” it can also be considered as God’s permissive will.
But here’s where we can go deeper—beyond the binary of permissive vs. perfect—to explore what it means to live faithfully in a world where the ideal isn’t always available, and where human limitation isn’t always rebellion.
An “ethic of accommodation”?
An ethic of accommodation is often defined as “the theological principle that God, while being in his nature unknowable and unreachable, has nevertheless communicated with humanity in a way that humans can understand and to which they can respond, preeminently by the incarnation of Christ and similarly, for example, in the Bible.”
I believe that also means that God, in divine mercy, makes space for human complexity without abandoning moral truth.
It’s not saying: “God’s fine with sin” or “Anything goes because the world is hard” or “God must lower His standards.”
This is a God who:
- Does not lower the standard (God still hates divorce, longs to be king, created two to become one flesh)
- But does not discard the person who fails, who struggles, who lives in in-between spaces.
Accommodation isn’t a moral compromise; it’s pastoral wisdom.
It acknowledges that:
- Humans are not always in Eden.
- We don’t always have the ideal conditions.
- Faithful people still struggle with loneliness, desire, timing, trauma, longing.
- And God doesn’t just say, “Come back when you’re whole.” God says, “I’ll walk with you here, too.”
And it’s the same logic that I imagine that many pastors apply to marriage after divorce.
God hates divorce (Malachi 2:16). Divorces were allowed as part of God’s permissive will — not perfect will. And, unlike masturbation, Jesus explicitly said that anyone who remarries after divorce commits adultery (Matthew 5:32; 19:9).
And yet I see a lot of divorced people get remarried, and no one bats an eye. It’s wholly acceptable nowadays. We believe that “God wouldn’t want this person to be alone for the rest of their lives. God understands.”
If pastors can perform marriages after divorce, and if many of these divorced pastors can themselves get married with nary a stain on their conscience, I wonder if masturbation was ever truly the issue. Christians always manage to be accommodating with issues that they want to accommodate — ones that invariably affect their own lives.
Let’s apply this to masturbation.
Let’s assume, for argument’s sake, that:
“Masturbation is not God’s perfect design for sexuality.”
Now ask:
What does God do with faithful people who aren’t in perfect conditions?
Is singleness wrong? No. But it’s not Edenic, either.
- There is nothing wrong with being single. Paul wished that people could be single like him. And yet…
- God says “it’s not good for man to be alone.”
- Again, here many of us are—single, not by rebellion, but by circumstances outside our control.
Is longing a sin? No.
- Desire is not evil.
- Unfulfilled desire is not failure.
So what is masturbation in that space?
It’s not claiming Eden. It’s not rebellion either.
It can be a form of care—in a life where you’ve said no to hookup culture, no to false intimacy, no to situationships, and yes to discernment, solitude, and integrity. It’s honesty in the wilderness.
God often meets people in less-than-ideal places. Think of Hagar, the enslaved woman who was used and discarded. Her pregnancy was not part of God’s original plan. Her child, Ishmael, was not the child of promise. And yet, God found her in the wilderness, Gave her a promise, And let her name Him: “El Roi—the God who sees me” (Genesis 16:13). That’s presence in imperfection and grace in the real world.
Masturbating with your partner (e.g. mutual masturbation) can be seen as “less than ideal”, depending on your values and if you see intercourse as the “ideal.”
Masturbating because you don’t have a partner can be considered “less than ideal.”
Masturbating because your partner is sick, injured, disabled, or otherwise unavailable (travelling, post-partum… or umm… dead?) can be considered “less than ideal.”
So even if you concede that masturbation isn’t the fullness of God’s sexual vision, I wonder if you can still say:
“In this season, this body, this solitude—I’m not sinning. I’m simply living faithfully in a world that is not yet Eden.”
And that is not the same as rebellion; I wonder if that can actually be stewardship in a fallen world.
Masturbation might not be the fullness—but it can be faithful for now
“Does masturbation express sexuality the way God intended?”
And the answer could be:
- No. or
- Not fully.
- But not every act of faithfulness has to be full to be faithful.
For example:
- Praying alone is not the fullness of communal worship—but it’s still sacred.
- Feeding yourself is not the same as sharing a meal—but it’s still nourishing.
- Crying to God in loneliness is not the same as being held by someone—but it’s still a connection.
You may not be in the season of “two becoming one flesh.”
But you’re still honouring the flesh you have, the desires God gave you, and the life you live today.
If God only honoured sexuality in marriage, then single people would be sexual mistakes and that is simply not true.
God sees single people.
God created desire in people who might never marry.
God welcomes stewardship—not perfection.
And God dwells with you now—not just once you’re in a covenant bed.
So yes, masturbation may not reflect the ultimate purpose of sex.
But in the meantime, I wonder if it can still serve as a faithful and honest expression of desire—without shame, without fear, and without pretending that abstinence is the only marker of holiness.
On 1 Corinthians 6:12:
Admittedly, there’s a part of me that wants to say that this reflection is wishy-washy and that masturbation must fall into a binary. Christianity is a religion that likes binaries. I was raised in a tradition that says that you ought to be able to call sin a sin. Call the thing what it is. Call a spade a spade. There’s no embrace of nuance.
But I also wonder if what I’m describing isn’t “wishy-washy” but rather mature Christian discernment.
Paul says:
“Everything is permissible for me”—but not everything is beneficial. “Everything is permissible for me”—but I will not be mastered by anything.
—1 Corinthians 6:12 (NIV)
Insofar as that verse talks about permissibility, people may extrapolate that I’m saying everything is permissible, which is not what I’m saying. I’m saying that insofar as masturbation may be permissible, it may not be helpful for you. And then again, it may be. And that, too, is still biblical.
In thinking about masturbation, it sounds like Paul would respond similarly: “You can masturbate if you want, but it might not be beneficial,” or “Ok, masturbate, but make sure you are not mastered by it.”
In many ways, I’m grappling with the tension between law and liberty, between prescription and personal conviction.
In 1 Corinthians 6:12, Paul outlines the framework to use when dealing with matters that don’t have clear Old Testament laws or New Covenant prohibitions. He doesn’t dismiss desire. He doesn’t give a free pass. He says:
- Is it helpful?
- Is it enslaving?
- Is it edifying for others?
- Does it glorify God?
- Does it bring you closer to or further from the Spirit?
These are discerning questions for morally ambiguous spaces and not cop-outs.
So, as a discerning Christian, when it comes to masturbation and any other activity that’s not codified in Scripture, you should still use your God-given discernment and ask yourself:
- Is it helpful to my relationship with God?
- Is it deepening my reverence for my body?
- Is it part of a pattern of self-soothing or escape?
- Am I avoiding something that needs to be brought to God?
- Does this reinforce isolation—or nurture care in my solitude?
- Is it making room for connection or isolating you from it?
- Does this practice draw me closer to God, even in silence?
- Do I feel ashamed because of what I’m doing—or because I was taught to feel shame?
- Am I acting out of desire, not desperation?
- Would I feel peace telling God about this? (Not that you must—but could you?)
- Is this leading me to love my body more, not less?
- Are you doing harm—to yourself or others?
- Is this practice consistent with love, discipline, and stewardship?
- Is it drawing you into shame or into freedom?
A tradition where the moral map is clear — “Sin is sin. Call a spade a spade” — allows for less nuance, but also less uncertainty and the fear of getting things wrong and angering God. That kind of moral clarity can feel safer, cleaner, and simpler. But life—especially embodied life, sexual life, single life—is rarely that tidy.
Paul knew this, and Jesus knew this. And I believe that’s why we don’t have a verse that says, “masturbation is sin.” Instead, we have a Spirit who guides, a Word that requires discernment, sexual principles that can transcend all timelines, and a call to holiness that’s rooted in love, not rules alone.
In the absence of a clear biblical command, I’m left not with license—but with the responsibility of spiritual discernment. And in that space, I return again and again to Paul’s words: not everything is beneficial, not everything is enslaving, not everything brings me into the fullness of what God wants for my body, my mind, my sexuality, or my soul.
The Bible never names masturbation as sin. What it does condemn—consistently—is:
- Exploitation
- Objectification
- Greed
- Idolatry
- Lust that dehumanizes or consumes
So the real question isn’t:
“Am I touching myself?”
It’s:
“Am I moving toward or away from wholeness, reverence, and love?”
You can call sin what it is—but you also get to recognize when something isn’t sin even if it’s not ideal.
1 Corinthians 7 and “Burning with Passion”
Let’s now turn our attention to 1 Corinthians 7, which is where Paul talks about sexual ethics. 1 Corinthians 7 needs to be anchored in the context of 1 Corinthians 6. 1 Corinthians 6:12 (and 1 Corinthians 6:19 talking about our bodies as holy temples) undergirds everything that Paul has to say afterwards in terms of “burning with passion”, getting married and being single.
Paul begins this section (1 Corinthians 6:12-20) by dismantling a mindset circulating in Corinth:
“Everything is permissible for me,” they say. Paul replies, “…but not everything is beneficial” and “…but I will not be mastered by anything.”
1 Corinthians 6:12 is foundational to Paul’s entire theology of the body and sexual ethics.
He then immediately transitions into sexual ethics:
- The body is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord (v.13)
- Your body is a temple (v.19)
- Flee sexual immorality—not because sex is bad, but because it’s powerful and covenantal (vv.15–18)
- You were bought with a price (v.20)
This sets the stage for 1 Corinthians 7, where Paul offers an applied ethic:
- Marriage as a remedy for burning desire (v.9)
- Sex within marriage is mutual, not one-sided (v.3–5)
- Singleness as a gift, not a curse (v.7)
- But also, marriage is good and God-honoring if desire overwhelms (v.36)
He’s training the Corinthians to think spiritually about embodiment, weigh what is beneficial vs. what is merely allowed and consider how desire, freedom, and discipleship interact.
Thus, I’m not taking 1 Corinthians 6:12 out of context. In fact, I believe this verse undergirds everything Paul writes about sexuality in the chapter that follows. He doesn’t open with a rule—he opens with a principle: ‘Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial.’ That’s not moral relativism. That’s mature discipleship. As someone trying to live faithfully in singleness, I return to that question often: not just ‘Is this sin?’ but ‘Is this forming me into the kind of whole, Spirit-led person God calls me to be?’”
“But if they cannot exercise self-control, they should marry. For it is better to marry than to burn with passion.”
—1 Corinthians 7:9 (ESV)
A cursory read of 1 Corinthians 7:9 makes it seem like marriage is a remedy for desire. I’ve often wondered, however, if it’s saying, not that marriage is the only remedy but that marriage is a suitable or possible remedy. For the many people who decry masturbation, they think that the only remedy is sexual intercourse in the context of marriage because of this verse. And it wouldn’t be wrong to read it that way. But it could be a misreading of 1 Corinthians 7:9 that flattens Paul’s nuanced pastoral advice into a rigid rule. Practically speaking, I think it can’t be read that way because we know many people get married just to have sex, especially in conservative Christian circles like my own. Sexual desire = Get married. That’s the only godly outlet. They get married in their 20s, and they’re encouraged to do so, but they still struggle sexually because marriage will not cure lust or desire or appetite.
Paul wrote “marry rather than burn” in a context where marriage was accessible. Today, people marry later, marriages are shorter, dating is difficult and finding a spouse is significantly harder than finding someone to have sex with
The theology hasn’t adapted to these realities.
Paul doesn’t say marriage is the only remedy
He says it’s better than burning with passion. “Better than” does not mean “the only thing.”
Paul often speaks in comparatives and pastoral triage: “This is better for these people, in this situation, for this season.” That’s not moral absolutism but rather spiritual coaching.
The phrase “burn with passion” is not about mere arousal
It’s likely referring to a kind of ongoing, consuming, potentially destructive desire that makes celibacy impossible.
Paul isn’t condemning sexual desire. He’s speaking to those who are already wrestling intensely and don’t have the gift of singleness (v.7).
So it’s less: “Desire? Get married!”
And more:
“If your body and mind are constantly consumed by passion in a way that is leading to harm, discontent, or sin—then marriage may be the better choice.”
Marriage is not the fix for lust
This is the theological elephant in the room. Lust is not just about unmet physical desire. It’s often about disordered longing, objectification, fantasy, emotional pain, and spiritual fragmentation.
Marriage can sanctify sexual expression. But it doesn’t purify lust. Only inner transformation can do that.
So anyone preaching “marriage is the cure” is misreading Paul, setting people up for disappointment and ignoring the pastoral messiness Paul is actually dealing with.
Paul’s actual emphasis in 1 Corinthians 7 is not “Get married to fix your sex life”
It’s:
“Each person has their own gift from God… one this, another that.” (v.7)
“I say this as a concession, not a command.” (v.6)
“Remain as you are… undivided devotion to the Lord.” (vv.17–35)
Paul values contentment, calling, and discernment far more than urgency to marry.
Marriage is a context for holiness and not a shortcut to it.
Thus, the more accurate takeaway can also be that masturbation, in some cases, may be a healthier, more honest response to sexual desire than marrying someone just to have sex.
That’s still not a moral free-for-all but spiritual realism and responsible ethics.
Thus, Paul doesn’t say or mean that marriage is the only godly outlet for sexual desire. He says marriage is a suitable solution—not the exclusive one. In fact, marrying just to have sex can create as many spiritual and emotional problems as it solves. Desire alone doesn’t make someone marriage-ready. And for those of us living faithfully in singleness, masturbation—when practiced with integrity and intention—may be a more honest and ethical response than rushing into covenant out of desperation.
Why isn’t masturbation mentioned in the Bible?
Scripture does not directly mention masturbation. Not once.
The oft-cited story of Onan (Genesis 38:9) is not about masturbation. It’s about coitus interruptus (colloquially known as the “withdrawal method”). It’s about disobedience, control, and refusal to fulfill a familial duty (levirate marriage).
Jesus speaks of lustful intent (Matthew 5:28), which some have extrapolated to masturbation, but he does not mention the act itself. (But if you lust after someone to masturbate, that is sinful. That said, not all masturbation includes lusting after someone. Some people masturbate without lust, and many church circles never consider this possibility because they don’t think it’s possible.)
Biblical sexual ethics are largely relational and covenantal; they deal with how we treat others, not how we treat ourselves in solitude.
If Paul spends one whole chapter talking about sex, why didn’t he mention masturbation?
I don’t follow the hermeneutic that says, “If God didn’t mention it explicitly, then it’s okay to do” or “It’s not mentioned in the Bible so I can do it.” Like I mentioned in my initial blog post, eating Tide pods is not mentioned in the Bible either — does that mean you should embark on a journey of eating detergent? (It’s a rhetorical question — please leave the laundry detergent alone). I think the silence of the Bible (when it is silent on this and other issues) is strategic — allowing people to live according to their consciences, knowing that a strict, outright prohibition may not be practical or relevant as time on earth goes on.
I also think that sometimes the silence of the Bible may imply that it is not as serious an issue — not a salvific or moral issue — as we make it out to be.
Interestingly, Paul doesn’t say, “If you’re burning with passion, you should masturbate.” He says you should get married. Why?
Why didn’t Paul even mention masturbation as an option?
Why does he direct people toward marriage as the remedy for sexual desire?
What is it about sex in marriage that seems to carry this weight—biblically, theologically, even existentially?
A few historical/contextual reasons to consider:
1. It wasn’t a culturally prominent issue
- First-century Greco-Roman society was deeply saturated in public, transactional, and exploitative sexual norms: temple prostitution, concubinage, pederasty, etc.
- The moral urgency for Paul was sexual ethics in public relationships—not private behaviours.
- Masturbation was likely not the theological hot topic it is today. It simply didn’t rise to the level of needing direct instruction.
2. Jewish sexual ethics were already communal and covenantal
- Paul, a Pharisee trained under Gamaliel, came from a tradition that viewed sex as inherently relational—a mitzvah within marriage, a duty to one’s spouse.
- Solo sex would’ve been seen more as a missed opportunity to fulfill your duty to your spouse or your future spouse, not necessarily sinful—but certainly not sacred.
- That bias may have shaped his framework, even post-Christ.
3. Paul was writing pastorally, not comprehensively
- 1 Corinthians 7 is not a full sexual theology.
- It’s a letter responding to chaos and questions (see 7:1: “Now concerning the matters you wrote about…”).
- Paul answers what he’s asked, and aims to give practical direction to people in turmoil—not an exhaustive sexuality manual.
So the omission may not signal condemnation—it may signal context, culture, and focus.
Why does Paul direct people to marriage instead of masturbation?
Here’s where the theology comes in.
Paul, like most biblical writers, sees sex not just as release or relief, but as communion, covenant. mutuality and a reflection of divine mystery (“This is a great mystery—but I am speaking about Christ and the church.” Ephesians 5:32)
For Paul, sex isn’t salvific in the sense of earning salvation, but it is sacramental: a physical act that reveals something spiritual. That’s why the remedy for burning isn’t just “get off”—it’s “enter into covenantal intimacy.” Desire, in Paul’s framework, is not just bodily or physical—it’s relational, symbolic, sacred.
He’s not saying marriage will “solve” lust. He’s saying: if your body longs to unite with another, do it in a way that mirrors God’s design for mutual love, service, and covenant.
That’s the best-case scenario. Not the only possible one. But the best.
Thus, Paul doesn’t mention masturbation, not because it’s taboo or unimportant, but because his focus was on sex as covenantal communion. In Paul’s world, the answer to desire wasn’t just relief—it was relationship. He saw sex as a mirror of divine intimacy, not just bodily pleasure. Masturbation may serve a purpose, especially in singleness. But for Paul, marriage wasn’t just a remedy—it was a vision of what desire could become when shaped by covenant, mutuality, and love.
On “Selfishness” and “Why not just masturbate for life?”
One could. Many people do. And as I mentioned before, masturbation is so stigmatized while sex in marriage is exalted and put on a pedestal.
Why is masturbation so stigmatized while sex in marriage is lifted up?
One possible theological answer is that sex, in Scripture, is more than just a means to release tension. It’s a vehicle for other-centeredness, for learning to give and receive, for revealing oneself vulnerably and sacrificially, and for embodying love.
Masturbation isn’t morally wrong. But it’s fundamentally self-directed. As we’ve discussed, that’s not inherently bad. It can be grounding, exploratory, even spiritual. But it’s not inherently mutual (arguably, some people, including married people, have sex that also isn’t inherently mutual, and many women are often used as human masturbatory sleeves, but I digress).
(Let me disabuse you of the notion that focusing on yourself or being self-directed is bad. There’s a difference between being self-directed vs. self-centred/selfish, and for too long, women have been called selfish for merely choosing to focus on themselves or putting themselves first. No one calls taking a shower or scratching their bum “selfish.” But as soon as a woman’s pleasure or self-care is involved, it’s lambasted as “selfish.” Calling masturbation “selfish” is not an innocuous claim and may come from internalized sexism. We have a real problem with acknowledging the “self” in Christianity. We believe that we must be selfless at all times. After all, some verses tell us to “Deny self, take up cross, and follow Me” (Matthew 16:24, Mark 8:34, Luke 9:23). And yet, Christ also tells us to love one another as we love ourselves (Matthew 22:39; Mark 12:31). I don’t think Christ calls us to constant self-abasement and hatred. Context is key.)
Marriage, for all its messiness, invites people to enter a school of love—a lifelong refining process of patience, service, embodiment, and grace. Sex, in that context, becomes part of that sanctifying journey.
So Paul isn’t saying:
“Desire? Just channel it into marriage and you’ll be fine.”
He’s saying:
“Desire? Take it seriously enough to give it a holy container—one that can hold both fire and faithfulness.”
So:
Is sex in marriage the only answer to desire? Or is it simply the most theologically rich one?
And the answer is: probably the latter.
Marriage is not the only solution, but it’s the one Paul offers because it embodies the fullness of what he believes sex was made to do:
- Unite
- Reflect God
- Build intimacy
- Serve another
- Mirror Christ and the Church
And if that’s the goal? Then masturbation isn’t sin. But it’s not the summit, either.
God’s Original Design and Purpose for Sex
How does masturbation conform to or align with God’s original design for sexuality? For instance, arguments against certain expressions of human sexuality (e.g. homosexuality, fornication, adultery etc.) often focus on the idea that those activities, behaviours or orientations are not God’s design.
I’ve heard one pastor say that sexuality was meant to be experienced in community and not with yourself, by yourself, which sounds great. It sounds biblical and right. But what I always buck against is the practicality of our interpretations. How do we reconcile verses that say, “Now unto him who is able to keep us from falling,” and “my grace is sufficient. My strength is made perfect in weakness,” and verses that talk about “dying to the flesh” with the fact that many of us are staying single later and later into our 30s and 40s, and that God biologically did not design us to be chaste and virginal into our 40s. That’s impractical. God can help us do impractical things, yes. But, I know it’s impractical and unrealistic, not because God cannot be trusted and He’s not strong enough, but because most people my age have had sex. Most people have had premarital sex. If this were practical and realistic, most unmarried people would have been like me — virgins into their late 30s and beyond. But most people aren’t. Most people aren’t asexual like me. Most people are smashing extra-maritally — including the pastors and elders who preach this ethic. People are preaching an ethic, the implications of which they themselves have not or can’t follow.
I’m wrestling with design, divine intention, and the very nature of what it means to be human in a holy way. And the answer—if we take Scripture seriously and human experience seriously—is: It depends what we mean by ‘design.’
God’s Design: Function or Formula?
What do we mean when we say something is “God’s design”?
If we mean what brings wholeness, connection, mutual delight, and covenant? Then that’s a living, breathing invitation, not just a rigid rulebook.
But if we reduce God’s design to one form, one structure, one method of sexual expression (e.g. heterosexual vaginal intercourse in marriage only). Then we miss the reality of:
- Singleness
- Widowhood
- Infertility
- Disability
- Trauma
- Longing
- Late bloomers
- People, like me, living holy lives without traditional “completion.”
If we cling too tightly to the formula, we turn God’s good creation into a standardized factory, not a divine mosaic.
Yes, Scripture affirms covenantal, relational sexuality—but does that exclude solo sexuality?
“Sexuality was meant to be experienced in community, not alone.”
That sounds poetic. But let’s test it theologically and practically.
If we follow that line strictly, we must ask:
- What about the person who never marries?
- The asexual or celibate person?
- The widow whose body still longs for pleasure?
- The disabled person who cannot engage in partnered sex, but can still experience arousal?
Are their bodies no longer holy ground? Are their orgasms inherently disordered?
It’s hard to imagine that a God of compassion, creativity, and embodiment would create a body capable of pleasure and then declare it unholy unless shared. That sounds more like control than covenant.
Design must meet the realities of a broken and delayed world
“God biologically did not design us to be chaste and virginal into our 40s.”
That’s biological and social truth. Our bodies—especially female bodies—are designed to become sexually functional in our teens. But our cultural and spiritual timelines increasingly push sexual partnership into our 30s and beyond.
So what happens in the gap?
Are we just asked to freeze? Numb? Pray away the body God gave us? (Which many do, and it works for them. God can take away sexual desires. Notably, this approach hasn’t worked for everyone, however.)
Theology that cannot be lived is not wisdom—it’s weight.
What if we reframed design around purpose, and not restriction?
What if the “design” is not just:
- Male + female
- Penis + vagina
- Covenant + intercourse
But also:
- Wholeness + integrity
- Longing + stewardship
- Self-knowledge + freedom
- Faithfulness to your stage of life + dignity in desire
If we do that, then solo pleasure isn’t a distortion.
It, again, can be a graceful accommodation to a world where you’re not promised a partner, you’re not ready to “settle”, and yet, you are still very much alive in your body.
So if masturbation is okay, are other sexual acts outside of marriage ok too?
If I’m single, how do different sexual expressions—masturbation, friends with benefits, casual sex—compare morally? Are they equivalent? Is one more or less ethical than another?
First: What makes something morally good, questionable, or wrong?
In Christian sexual ethics, morality usually hinges on at least four key things:
- Covenant – Is this rooted in mutual commitment?
- Mutuality – Is there consent, respect, and reciprocity?
- Stewardship – Does this reflect care for one’s body and soul, and the other’s?
- Alignment with God’s vision – Does this reflect the character of God: love, faithfulness, dignity?
With those in mind, we can now compare.
1. Masturbation (Solo Self-Pleasure)
Moral status: Depends on context and posture
- Strengths:
- Doesn’t involve another person you could harm or objectify.
- Can be a form of self-care, exploration, or stewardship.
- Can help reduce sexual frustration without violating anyone’s boundaries.
- Risks:
- Could foster escapism, compulsive patterns, or reinforce unhelpful fantasies.
- If fueled by degrading or violent porn, could be ethically compromised.
- Can become self-centered if it reinforces a view of sex that excludes intimacy or vulnerability altogether.
Theological take:
Masturbation is morally ambiguous, not inherently sinful. It depends on why, how, and with what spiritual posture it is done. It can be a responsible outlet for desire, especially when partnered sex isn’t available.
2. Friends with Benefits (FWB)
Moral status: Riskier and more complex
- Strengths:
- Clearer communication than random hookups (sometimes).
- Emotional familiarity may reduce harm.
- Risks:
- Can blur emotional lines and cause deep hurt when one person becomes attached.
- May imitate covenantal intimacy without the commitment—raising concerns about integrity.
- Often driven more by loneliness or convenience than love or service.
Theological take:
FWB relationships can mimic covenant while refusing its responsibilities. Even if there’s consent, the absence of enduring commitment means it often lacks the kind of mutuality and spiritual integrity that Christian ethics calls for. It’s usually not aligned with the kind of love God models in covenant.
3. Casual sex/hook-ups/one-night stands
Moral status: Ethically shallow and potentially harmful
- Strengths:
- Rarely about anything but mutual physical pleasure.
- Risks:
- Prioritizes self over the sacredness of the other’s body and soul.
- Often reinforces objectification—of self and of the other.
- Disregards the spiritual and emotional depth of sexuality.
- Can dull the capacity for intimacy over time.
Theological take:
Casual sex tends to flatten sexuality, treating it as merely physical rather than sacred. It bypasses intimacy, responsibility, and care. In Christian thought, this is typically seen as missing the mark (hamartia), even when consent is present.
So are they morally equivalent?
No. From a Christian perspective that values covenant, mutuality, and stewardship, we might rank them this way:
- Masturbation – morally neutral to possibly ethical
- FWB – ethically ambiguous but theologically weak
- Casual sex – often morally compromised and misaligned with God’s design
It’s all about discernment and whether our sexual choices move us toward flourishing, love, wholeness, and sacred embodiment.
You can hold this nuanced view:
- Masturbation might not be God’s ideal for sexuality, but it might be the most ethical choice available to a single person seeking faithfulness, wholeness, and restraint.
- Choosing not to enter into casual sex or ambiguous relationships may not mean you lack passion—but that you’ve chosen to honor your body, spirit, and future partner with integrity.
Embodied Theology
One night, my stomach was grumbling, but it wasn’t grumbling at the time I wanted it to grumble. It was grumbling in the wee hours of the morning, at 2 am. Thus, my inclination was to ignore it. But then I thought to myself, “Well, no… Your body’s telling you that you’re hungry. Go eat.”
I have learned to trust my body’s signals. So when my body is hungry, I don’t pontificate about the hunger. Sometimes it’s good to ask why I might be hungry, but I don’t argue with my hunger. I just eat.
And it really should be that simple. When our body is hungry, we should eat. When we are horny, we should have sex. When we’re tired, we should sleep. It really should be that simple. But in our society, we have overcomplicated things. Not only have we created a capitalist society where these things are not easily obtained, we have created a system of disembodiment where we have learned not to trust our bodies. We go to work when we are sick. We work when we are exhausted. We regularly push past our limits. In Christendom, we believe denial of the flesh to always be holy and appropriate and better and moral. So you’ll have people who, if they’re hungry, simply won’t eat. Growing up, my father, steeped in his internalized fatphobia, would tell us, his fat children, that “Sometimes, it’s good to be hungry.” Hunger — or rather denial of food when your body is telling you that you want food — is often seen as a virtue.
There are people who truly believe that hunger is a necessary part of weight loss (which I find abhorrent as a fitness professional). Large swaths of society believe that you shouldn’t obey your hunger, when in fact, your hunger exists for a reason. Your hunger tells you to eat. And there are some people who might say, “Well, if I always obey my hunger, then I’ll overeat.” But the issue is not the fact that you are hungry. The issue is not your hunger at all. The issue is whether you are controlled or mastered by your hunger. If you are scared about overeating, the issue is your sensitivity or your response to ghrelin, to leptin, to insulin, to all the signals about satiety as well as the reason why you are eating (stress, comfort etc.). But the issue is not hunger in and of itself.
Some people try to figure out how to ignore their body’s pain signals (and I’m not talking about people with fibromyalgia). On Instagram, I saw a reel of a woman getting married and they were talking about how the hack for wearing high heels and not having your feet hurt for a long time is to put lidocaine spray at the bottom of your feet. At least the comments passed the vibe check and explained how that’s a horrible thing to do. Pain exists to tell our body that something’s wrong. We don’t want to normalize ignoring pain.
I apply the same thinking to sexual desires.
We have normalized ignoring our sexual desires and in some cases, repressing them, only for deleterious and damaging effects to occur. Ignoring the body is normalized self-harm, and the refusal to listen to the body is not holiness — it can be considered violence.
(Listening to the body is not the same as being mastered by the body, however.)
I wish I could remember the citation, but a pastor once said that “The cure for hunger is food and the cure for horniness is sex.” And it really is that simple.
But in religious spaces, we’ve gotten confused. We have learned, we’ve taught ourselves, and we’ve created a theology that says denial of self and ignoring your flesh is what is holy and is what God wants. Too many people think the virtue in fasting is in the denial of the flesh rather than the better attunement to the heart of God and the needs of the world.
If we are not careful, verses that tell us to “deny self,” “the heart is deceitful above all things, who can know it,” “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak,” can cause us to be suspicious of our bodies and our urges and inclinations. If we are not careful, we will ignore ourselves in our pursuit of holiness.
There’s a difference, however, between denial and discipline. Christian cultures collapse discipline (intentional, grounded, purposeful) with denial (fearful, shame-driven, suppressive). This collapse leads to:
- eating disorders presented as “self-control,”
- celibacy presented as “purity,”
- self-neglect presented as “spirituality,”
- ignoring the body as a virtue.
This is bad theology born from bad exegesis. The body is not the enemy — disconnection is. Christianity distrusts the body because it distrusts women, materiality, and pleasure.
I think we’ve complicated really simple matters. And I think the answer to horniness is not to take a cold shower and it’s not walk around the block. It’s to have sex.
As a weight-inclusive personal trainer who believes in intuitive eating, the answer to hunger — let’s say a desire for a cookie — is not to eat a Wheat Thin or a granola bar. If you are hungry for a cookie, eat the cookie. Because what happens is if you eat around your hunger, ironically, you end up eating more and consuming more calories than if you had just ate the damn cookie. And when you eat around your hunger, you end up eating more cookies than you ever intended to eat because you live a life of restriction and you have created a sense of scarcity. This is why people feel out of control around food. If you had a healthier relationship with cookies, if you were hungry for cookies, you would have eaten one or two cookies and gone about your day without any further thought about cookies. You can move on.
Same thing for sex. We’ll go for walks, we take cold showers, we’ll read a book. And some people have gone through some great lengths to not masturbate, up to and including chemical castration and female genital mutilation. But I can’t help but wonder, what if you could have just allowed yourself an orgasm and moved on, you know what I mean? You wouldn’t have gone to such great lengths to “eat around your hunger.” And then I wonder if, psychologically, when you live a life of restriction, when you are finally able to have sex do you have a propensity to kind of go overboard?
When sexuality is suppressed as opposed to stewarded, you create spiritual shame, compulsivity, and distortion. The issue is not desire — it’s fear of desire.
Here I note a weakness in my argument: I recognize that there are some people, like famed sex researcher Emily Nagoski, who don’t believe that we have a sex drive in a way that’s analogous to a need for food and sleep. She says that sex is a motivation as opposed to a survival drive.
That said, most religious writing talks about sex abstractly — not embodiedly. What if these signals are not temptations to resist, but wisdom to heed? If you have a body, you tend to it. If you have desire, you acknowledge it. If you’re single, you don’t pretend that means you’re neutered. Holiness might look like attunement, not avoidance.
I wonder, if masturbation can be seen as grounding, regulation, and even prayer.
- What if this is a form of self-soothing?
- What if the body God created is trying to help me regulate?
- What if sexual release can coexist with faith rather than violate it?
What if it can be part of emotional regulation?
From a psychological perspective, sexual release reduces cortisol, increases oxytocin, activates parasympathetic nervous system functioning, and helps with sleep, safety, and grounding.
That’s arguably healthy.
This isn’t about selfishness or indulgence. This is about preventing disconnection—disconnection from yourself, from your community, from God. Because when we chronically suppress longing, it leaks out elsewhere: in neediness, bitterness, spiritual confusion, and relational imbalance.
I support an embodied theology, one that recognizes that God made me both spirit and flesh, and that the two are intricately connected.
Embodiment means being fully present and aware in your body, experiencing life through physical sensations, and recognizing the deep connection between mind, body, and environment. It emphasizes that the mind isn’t separate from the body; physical experiences shape mental states and vice versa. It involves tuning into internal (interoception – hunger, pain) and external (exteroception – sights, sounds) senses, plus body positioning (proprioception). Bodies “tell stories” about our lives, social conditions, and experiences, even those we don’t consciously articulate. It’s about moving from being “stuck in your head” to experiencing the immediate, physical present moment.
Most of Christianity’s prohibitions are prohibitions that promote disembodiment as opposed to embodiment. I’m not saying that Christianity is wrong, but our interpretations may be.
The body is not a “problem” to be subdued but a site of information, self-understanding, agency, and divine connection.
Science, Truth and the Christian
A recent study discussed how masturbation helps with menopause symptoms. There’s a lot of scientific evidence that says that masturbation is not only normal but provides many health benefits. But it’s hard to present science as an argument to Christians, because Christians are largely skeptical of science. That’s the hard part. So if you say that there’s empirical evidence, there’s peer-reviewed evidence and research that suggests that masturbation actually has way more benefits than disadvantages, many Christians will say to you, “It doesn’t matter what the science says. What matters is what the Bible says. I believe in the ‘Thus saith the Lord!'” I believe in the “Thus saith the Lord” too (even though, ironically, God hasn’t said anything about masturbation). Also, science evolves, and science sometimes gets things wrong.
There is an epistemic gap: Christians and scientists argue on different planes.
Scientists argue from empirical evidence. Christians often argue from scripture and lived experience. They are not operating with the same epistemic rules. Therefore, the debate is often not about masturbation — it’s about the nature of truth (all truth is God’s truth by the way, even if it’s science that reveals it.)
This is the exact same thing that happens in arguments about evolution, climate change, psychology, sexuality, even the shape of the earth.
This is one of the biggest unresolved clashes in modern epistemology. Thus, I realize that I cannot win with science alone, because Christians are not arguing from science.
Practical Theology
The pastoral and theological neglect of women’s bodies, pleasure, and pain
The purpose of exploration is not only to find out new information but to discover where the limits lie. When you apply limits and boundaries preemptively, you undercut and undermine your own exploration.
Because of patriarchy (women are not encouraged to explore themselves sexually by themselves or with a partner) and the orgasm gap, women often need to explore their own bodies on their own if they want to have pleasurable partnered sex. You kneecap this exploration if you say, “Ok — you can figure out what feels good, but make sure it doesn’t go over into masturbatory territory.” That’s an impossibly fine line.
We love to quote, “The marriage bed is undefiled,” as a justification for all of our freaky acts and sexual fantasies. Many couples want to do things like mutual masturbation, watching each other masturbate or guiding each other’s hands/fondling/heavy petting. How are you supposed to engage in these practices if you never learned your own body first, pray tell? Self-knowledge gained in privacy and at your own pace often cannot be replicated with someone watching. Some discoveries happen only in solitude.
A woman who has experienced sexual trauma as a result of sexual assault might need to relearn safety and how to be present in and reconnect with her body. She might feel comfortable touching herself on the journey to ever feeling comfortable being touched by another person again. Masturbation might be a reclamation of her own sexual desire, separate and apart from a man — without pressure, without danger, reinforcing the message to her body that it is safe, cared for and is capable of pleasure once more. It’s unfair and inappropriate to hamstring this exploratory process with fears about sinfulness.
I would hate for a woman who’s struggling with vaginismus to be working through pain with penetration and have in the back of her head, “touching myself is wrong.” Fear-based teaching actually interferes with healing. Vaginismus pain is psycho-somatic, and such thoughts will get in the way of achieving penetration — not just for sex, but for transvaginal ultrasounds, PAP smears, endometrial biopsies, colposcopies and all of the various vaginal examinations that people with vaginas experience. Any pelvic floor physiotherapist would tell you that triumph over vaginismus involves having a relationship with your body, learning body trust, and discerning the difference between pleasure and pain. Sexual arousal helps the vagina dilate and thus helps with penetration and teaches the body that penetration is safe. I would hate for somebody to not be able to truly explore and truly heal because they’re afraid that they’re teetering in the masturbation territory, and because they have been told that sexual arousal and stimulation are off limits when they’re single, even when they’re just trying to find healing in the body they have.
Masturbation can be maintenance. As people age, especially women, sexual function requires maintenance: “If you don’t use it, you lose it.” Regular blood flow prevents pain. Regular insertion (finger, dilator, tampon, penis) maintains elasticity. Many older people struggle with painful penetration; no one talks about it. Masturbation is often the simplest, healthiest preventative tool — but shame blocks people from using it.
We don’t think old people have sex or sexual urges. So we’re not thinking about them when we create our theology of masturbation. We’re expecting them to stay chaste. People who had a vibrant sex life for fifty years of their marriage, and all of a sudden, their husband dies, and we’re expecting them to just sit tight till Jesus comes.
That’s impractical.
And it’s all rooted in pejorative teachings about the body:
- don’t touch yourself
- sex is dangerous
- be fearful
- purity culture for women, permissiveness for men
But pastors never think of that when they say “masturbation is a sin.” They think of the teenage boy masturbating to images of girls in Maxim and Sports Illustrated. They think of the man jerking off to his favourite OnlyFans model. They think of premature ejaculation, death grip and poor sensation. They think that those who masturbate are just lonely and lusting; meanwhile, religious trauma is listed as a cause of vaginismus, and religious women have the highest rates of anorgasmia and genito-pelvic pain and penetration disorders. They don’t think of the marginalized people who are just trying to find health, healing and wholeness in their bodies.
And they preach this theology of lifelong abstinence for gays and singles and everyone in between, meanwhile, they cheat on their spouses, groom girls, sleep with the young women in their churches or are addicted to porn themselves.
I refuse to fall into that gap — the gap between teaching and reality — because I know good sex is my inheritance. Following groupthink would leave me with the consequences, not the church. They’re not there when sex hurts. They’re not there when you’re anorgasmic. Women bear the cost of purity culture; men often don’t. Men “sow their wild oats” and gain experience. By the time they marry, he knows his body well, and she often does not. Men often have a head start (no pun intended, lol).
Also, I do not know how a couple can go through in vitro fertilization or intrauterine insemination without somebody masturbating into a cup.
Female Genital Mutilation
Female genital mutilation (FGM), at its core, is rooted in a deep misunderstanding of female anatomy and a deeper discomfort with female sexual pleasure. Many who perform FGM genuinely believe they are “removing” the source of female desire, not realizing that the visible external “nub” is only the tip of the clitoris. The majority of the clitoral structure is internal and remains intact even after cutting. So while FGM is traumatic, violent, and can drastically change sexual functioning, the idea that pleasure becomes anatomically impossible is not always true. The internal clitoris still exists.
But that’s the point:
FGM isn’t simply about anatomy. It’s about patriarchy, purity, and control.
It’s about regulating and diminishing women’s capacity for pleasure — and more specifically, women’s ownership of their pleasure.
And when you trace that ideology to its root, you see the exact same logic show up in Western conversations about women and masturbation.
Not the same violence, of course — but the same suspicion:
The idea that a woman who experiences pleasure on her own terms is “out of order,” ungoverned, too liberated, too self-knowing.
It’s the same discomfort with female agency, and especially female sexual self-determination.
So when Christians say “masturbation is wrong,” we need to be absolutely certain that we aren’t unknowingly echoing the logic of patriarchy rather than the heart of Jesus.
Because there is a lot in “Christian tradition” that is more rooted in cultural discomfort, purity culture, and control than in anything Christ actually taught.
If we’re going to call something sinful, it has to be because of how it harms people, diminishes love, or drives us away from God — not because we’re repeating patriarchal norms that frame female pleasure as suspicious or shameful.
Your Sexuality Is Not Sin
If:
You aren’t using masturbation to numb out.
You aren’t chasing novelty for its own sake.
You aren’t ignoring your conscience.
You are doing what Scripture calls the wise to do:
“Examine everything; hold fast to what is good.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:21
Your body is part of God’s creation, and pleasure is part of that creation; thus your willingness to listen to your desire without letting it rule you is not sin.
It’s sanctified curiosity.
Too many faith communities either:
- Demonize desire
- Or romanticize it as something only beautiful within marriage
I’m saying:
“Desire exists now. Not someday. Not when I get married. Not when God ‘restores’ something. Now. And so I will honor it now.”
I may never feel “certainty” about masturbation, but I do have clarity. I’m not and have never declared masturbation a virtue. I’m simply saying:
- It’s morally neutral
- It can be helpful
- It can go wrong
- But right now, in this body, in this life, it can be good
And that is enough.
A Prayer:
God, I come to you not just as a mind or a soul, but as a body. You made me whole. You made me good. And you gave me desires not to shame me, but to remind me that I am alive. Help me steward them with wisdom, not fear. Let my pleasure never make me proud, nor let shame make me small. Teach me to embrace the now, even as I hope for more. And if this is my season of singleness, help me find joy in the body you gave me, and peace in the life I live today. Amen.
This post doesn’t have all the answers. But it’s the next step in an honest, ongoing journey. I hope it meets you where you are—and gives you language, dignity, and space to explore your own theology of desire.
May you steward your body in freedom, not fear. May your longing guide you toward intimacy—not only with others, but with God, your own flesh, and the fullness of your humanity.
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