Certainly, Sprinkle is not the only one of a certain generation or religious and cultural background with unexamined assumptions, and many questions in the face of new data. But he is one of the few willing to face them publicly, ask questions, listen to those who have sound answers, and work through his cognitive dissonance to arrive at better thinking.

And so for the sake of men and women who have not yet learned what Sprinkle has now has (that intended or not, beliefs and teachings have consequences), I appreciate him putting his ego on the line for the sake of his own education and learning. No, more than that—for the men and women he’s influencing, for the sake of Christian men and women with similar questions, confusion due to their own upbringing, and unexamined beliefs and teachings, but whose ultimate goal is to do better, right where they are, and for the next generation.

This brings me to the point of my post:

Sometimes we can’t see the toxicity of “tricky teachings” because they’re in the very oxygen we breathe. Sometimes we fail to recognize tricky teachings because we’re the ones accidentally teaching them.

I did a lot of work in grad school, internship, and years of postgraduate therapy supervision to understand, make proper use of, and make correction to, my own sociocultural and sexual schemas. Even so, when Gregoire’s original research findings came out in 2021, I reached a new depth of understanding of how insidious tricky teachings can be. And in my cultural context, I continue to swim in evangelical waters that still need serious filtering when it comes to personal and professional beliefs and language around healthy relationships and sexuality.

And so, from Idaho to Kentucky, it seems to help to have people conducting valid and reliable research and communicating it to the church at large in language we all understand (in this case, a surprise team of Canadian Christian sex and marriage bloggers in the evangelical space) to help us navigate the purity culture waters we unfortunately still seem to be treading. We need help and humility to learn a better way so that we don’t unintentionally drown ourselves—or take those in our care down with us.

I believe that most Christians leaders, teachers, counselors, and helpers mean well. But meaning well is not the same thing as doing right and good by someone. Good intentions have nothing to do with competent care, or the long-term, holistic wellbeing of the person who’s coming to us, trusting us, with the most vulnerable aspects of their lives.

So let’s talk about tricky teachings and toxic messages in the church. Let’s talk about Christlike love and respect and boundaries and consent and healthy sexual attitudes and behavior toward other Christians and fellow humans. Let’s define where our personal boundaries and responsibilities lie—and where another person’s begin. Let’s prioritize language in our families and churches that lead to life and fruit and flourishing for the young women and men who grow up within them.

And in the spirit of Scripture, Gregoire’s and Lindenbach’s example, and their forthcoming book, let’s teach young women to really feel their worth: to not make themselves small for the sake of men, but value themselves—their thoughts, their bodies, their contributions to society. To believe that, just like men, God made them in His image; desires their good; sent Jesus Christ to redeem them; and invites them to participate in His kingdom purposes, too.

Because as Sheila, Rebecca, Preston, you, and I instinctively know, she—whoever she is in your life—deserves better.

Women my age grew up with purity culture, which prized virginity and modesty as a way of combating the secular sexual revolution. Now in our 30s, many of us finally see it for what it is: the Christian objectification of women’s bodies, the systematic dehumanisation and devaluing of girls and women beyond their virginity and a false sexual prosperity gospel. We abhor the ‘used chocolate bar’ analogies and can see the pain that purity culture and modesty teachings have wrought on our generation. However, we still wonder how we can teach our children about biblical sexuality.

She Deserves Better is a new book that breathes fresh air and a hope for a better future for the next generation. The relief in reading this open, matter-of-fact, research-based and biblical approach to the teenage experience is visceral.

The Charlie’s Angels behind this work are Sheila Wray Gregoire, her daughter Rebecca Lindenbach and statistician Joanna Sawatsky. They are best known for their previous groundbreaking work, The Great Sex Rescue in which they outlined their findings from surveying 20,000 evangelical women about their experiences of sex and marriage.

Through each chapter, Gregoire et al explore key themes from popular evangelical books aimed at pre-teen and teenage girls. Refreshingly, they cover a wide range of topics from cultivating a genuine faith based on the character of Jesus, mental health, peer pressure to dating and sexuality.

Gregoire, Lindenbach and Sawatsky’s key thesis is examining the fruit of theology. As Jesus says, “a good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit.” As a researcher and medical doctor, I am delighted they do not merely bring their rhetoric to this hotly contested arena. Funded by their loyal Patreon supporters, they performed a rigorous survey of 7500 women and analysed the statistics, developing a peer-reviewed academic database.

Unlike many Christian authors in this field, they speak with authority (not simply anecdotes) about the demonstrable harms from bad teaching. They have clearly demonstrated the close correlation between beliefs such as the modesty myth or that “girls talk too much” to outcomes such as increased rates of sexual pain, uneven household workload distribution and abusive marriages.

Gregoire points out some of the most disturbing aspects of modesty culture, particularly books aimed at pre-pubescent children, telling them that “bellies are very intoxicating, and we should save that for our husband”. At times, she feels like the child pointing out that the emperor is wearing no clothes. How is it possible that when an adult man has expressed sexual temptation by a teenager in a singlet top, the attention and blame are immediately drawn to the girl to put on a T-shirt instead of the man who has openly admitted to paedophilic tendencies?

She rightly points out that the admonishment about helping fellow believers “not stumble” is aimed at those with a stronger faith to encourage the weaker, and asks – who is weaker? Adult men or minor children? Whose faith is tested more: the adult man, by looking at a girl wearing shorts, or the teenage girl who would instantly feel shame, guilt and judgment in a place where she should feel welcome? Gregoire systematically dismantles widely held beliefs in such a straightforward, commonsense way that it made me wonder why they had held such a prominent place before.