03/13/2026
Nobody talks about sexless marriages in church. So I suffered in silence for over a year.
I sat in my pastor's office last spring. Hands folded. Eyes on the floor. Saying words I never thought I'd say out loud.
"My husband and I haven't been intimate in fourteen months."
He nodded slowly. Leaned back in his chair. And said the words I'd hear a hundred times:
"Pray about it. God will restore what's broken."
So I prayed. Every single night. On my knees beside our bed while my husband slept on his side and I slept on mine. Fourteen months of prayers. Fourteen months of begging God to fix whatever was broken inside me.
Nothing changed.
Let me tell you what those fourteen months really looked like.
My husband is a deacon. He greets people at the door every Sunday with that warm smile everyone loves. He leads men's group on Wednesdays. He's the one people call when they need prayer.
I lead women's Bible study. I organize the annual women's retreat. I'm the one who brings meals when someone is sick, who shows up first and leaves last.
We're "couple goals" at church. Twenty-two years of marriage. Four kids. Still holding hands during worship.
And strangers at home.
Nobody knows. Nobody suspects. Because every Sunday we perform the marriage everyone thinks we have. And every Sunday night we go home to separate sides of the bed and silence.
It wasn't always like this.
At 35, we still reached for each other. Not as often as when we were newlyweds — life gets busy, kids get demanding — but we were still connected. Still intimate. Still us.
At 38, something started to shift. I found myself making excuses. Tired. Headache. Early morning. Always something. I told myself it was just a season.
At 40, the excuses became the norm. He'd give me that look — hopeful, careful — and I'd feel my whole body tense. Not because of him. I didn't know why. I just couldn't.
At 41, he stopped reaching.
And here's the part I'm ashamed to admit: I was relieved.
What kind of wife is relieved when her husband stops wanting her? What kind of Christian woman feels her body relax when her husband gives up?
I started to believe something was deeply wrong with me. Spiritually wrong. That this was punishment for something. That my faith wasn't strong enough. That I was failing my covenant.
I went to my doctor first. Described the symptoms — no desire, constant exhaustion, feeling disconnected from my own body.
She looked at my chart, looked at my age, and said: "This is hormonal. Very common in your early 40s. I can prescribe some supplements."
I took the supplements. Nothing changed.
I went to my pastor's wife next. Sat in her living room and confessed everything. The distance. The rejection. The guilt that ate at me every single day.
She held my hands and prayed over me. Told me to keep praying. That God uses seasons of struggle to refine us. That my marriage was worth fighting for.
I knew my marriage was worth fighting for. I just didn't know how to fight something I couldn't name.
I tried everything the Christian books tell you to try.
I scheduled "date nights." Sat across from my husband at restaurants with nothing to say.
I read "Sheet Music" and "Intended for Pleasure." Highlighted passages. Felt more broken.
I tried initiating anyway. Forced myself to go through the motions. Lay there feeling nothing while my husband tried to be gentle and I tried not to cry.
He could tell. Of course he could tell.
"We don't have to," he'd say. "It's okay."
It wasn't okay. None of this was okay.
One night he was sitting in the living room after the kids were asleep. I found him there in the dark. Just sitting.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He didn't answer for a long time.
"I feel like I'm losing you," he finally said. "Like you're disappearing and I can't reach you anymore. I pray for us every day. I don't know what else to do."
I sat down next to him. We didn't touch.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," I said. "I love you. I know I do. But my body won't... I can't..."
"Is it me?"
"No." I was crying now. "It's not you. I don't know what it is. But it's not you."
We sat there in the dark. Two people who'd stood before God and promised forever. Now wondering if we'd ever find our way back.
At 42, I gave up.
Not on my marriage — I would never leave him. But on fixing this. On feeling anything again. I accepted that I was broken in a way prayer and supplements couldn't fix. That this was just my cross to bear.
Then one night — 2 AM, couldn't sleep again — I found a forum online. Christian women. Private group. All sharing stories I recognized.
One woman wrote something that stopped my heart:
"I thought I was failing my husband. Failing God. Turns out my nervous system was in survival mode. My body was so stressed it turned off everything non-essential. Desire was first to go."
She explained that when you've been running on stress for years — caregiving, working, serving, carrying everyone else's burdens — your nervous system gets stuck. Survival mode. Fight or flight. All the time.
And in survival mode, your body shuts down anything that requires vulnerability. Including intimacy. Including desire. Including the ability to let your husband touch you without your skin crawling.
It's not sin. It's not punishment. It's not weak faith.
It's a nervous system that forgot how to feel safe.
She mentioned something called Liven. An app that helps your nervous system come out of survival mode. Not hormones. Not prayer instead of action. Just teaching your body it's okay to relax again.
I took the quiz that night. It didn't ask about my marriage or my faith. It asked about stress. About exhaustion. About feeling wired but tired. About carrying everyone's burdens.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
I started the next morning. Five minutes a day. Before anyone else woke up. My own quiet time, alongside my devotions.
Week 1: I noticed I was clenching my jaw. Constantly. Even during prayer. I started catching myself and releasing.
Week 2: I slept through the night. First time in months. Woke up without that familiar dread.
Week 3: My husband came up behind me while I was washing dishes. Put his hands on my waist. And for the first time in over a year — I didn't flinch. I leaned back into him.
We both froze. Both noticed. Neither said anything.
Week 4: We were praying together before bed — something we'd kept doing even through all of this — and I reached for his hand. Really held it. Felt the warmth of him.
Week 6: Something stirred. That feeling I thought was dead. That part of me I thought God had taken for some reason I couldn't understand. Still there. Just buried.
Week 8: I reached for him. Not out of duty. Not forcing myself. Because I wanted to.
He pulled back. Looked at me. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," I whispered. "I'm sure."
Afterward, we held each other and cried. Both of us. Tears of relief. Tears of gratitude. Tears of "I thought I lost you."
"There you are," he said. "I've been praying for you to come back."
"I was always here," I told him. "I was just locked inside a body that didn't feel safe."
It's been four months now.
We're not newlyweds. We're not who we were at 25. But we're us again. The way God intended. Husband and wife in every sense.
Last Sunday we held hands during worship. But this time it wasn't performance. It was connection. Real connection. I felt his pulse against my palm and I felt something.
My pastor asked how we were doing. "You two seem even closer lately."
I smiled. "God answered our prayers. Just not the way we expected."
I spent fourteen months on my knees asking God to fix me. And He did. Through an app on my phone and five minutes a day. Teaching my body what my spirit already knew — that I was safe. That I could be vulnerable again. That my husband wasn't a threat to survive, but a gift to receive.
If nobody talks about sexless marriages in your church...
If you've been praying and nothing changes...
If you love your husband but your body won't let you near him...
It might not be a faith problem. It might not be a sin problem. It might be a nervous system that's been stuck in survival mode so long it forgot how to feel safe.
And that's something you can actually address.
Liven has a quiz that shows what's happening. Takes three minutes. Might be the answer you've been praying for.
I spent fourteen months asking God to restore my marriage. He did. Just not the way I expected.
Link is below. 💙
