Like a lot of people, I have witnessed and suffered from pornography’s proliferation—from beneath box-springs onto the internet. Online there exists a never ending ocean of pornographic images, videos, stories and even cartoons. Most of them free, and all of them streaming directly into our homes and/or offices. In a world where pornography is being formatted specifically for mobile devices, buxom women are plastered on billboards, and T.V. commercials know no shame, it takes a brave soul to want to live with sexual integrity.
For me, what started as a mild curiosity with the female anatomy quickly developed into an out of control pornographic problem. In the past 10 years, though, I have taken steps towards healing and recovery. To that end, I engaged in several ventures I thought would help facilitate this change. At one point in my journey, I was in an accountability group that met once a week. I was seeing a counselor every other week. And a part of a recovery group that met twice a week. An aspect of the recovery group was intentionally reaching out to others. This meant having a sponsor, whom I met with or called once a week. As well as reaching out to other members of the group, a couple of whom I called everyday. Recovery was my job—a job I didn’t get paid for.
While doing all of this work, however, the freedom I sought continued to elude me. It was helpful, but did not give me the peace of mind, or deliverance I thought it would. This was baffling. Although I never articulated this at the time, my expectation was that if I worked hard enough at getting better, I eventually would. This of course meant that if I were to fail or slip up, I was not yet putting in enough effort. So after an inevitable failure, I would re-double my efforts and begin again the arduous task of working pornography out of my life.
Albert Einstein once said that doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result was the very definition of insanity. I have pretty much nailed down the results of trying real hard to work porn out of my life. After performing this experiment countless times over several years, I have unequivocally proven that my effort and sin’s attractiveness have a proportional relationship with one another. As one increases, so does the other. The harder I tried to keep porn out, the more appealing it became. Over and over, the voice in my head kept saying, “Don’t think about pornography. Don’t think about pornography.” All of the recovery work I was doing reinforced this mantra. Is it any wonder that I continued to struggle with pornography?
Graciously, one night a new approach emerged. I was feeling particularly tempted to go online and look at porn. I did and didn’t want to at the same time, so I offered a few half-hearted prayers, then sat down on the couch to watch some T.V. After an hour of channel hopping, I was in even worse shape than when I started. It was like that dark desire in me had grown. Porn was a freight train, and I, a lowly ant, was standing on the tracks.
Not knowing what else to do, I begrudgingly started to do the “work” I had been trained to do. I tried praying again. Nothing. I read the ol’ familiar passages of Scripture that had helped me out before. Again, nothing. As I reached for my phone to call a few friends and once again tell them that I was struggling, I came face to face with the fact that nothing within me wanted to do anymore work. Not because I wanted to look at porn or because I didn’t want to get better. I didn’t want work because I was tired.
I was tired of always taking the initiative. Tired of always having to be super vigilant with what I was thinking and looking at. Tired of always calling people and awkwardly confessing the depths of my soul. Tired of always having to work at getting better. I was not just spiritually and emotionally tired. All the introspection and recovery that I was doing had worn me out physically. My bones were tired.
For you see, in my insecurity and brokenness, I had lowered my expectations of what God wanted from me. I believed that my endless cycle of failure and effort, was the best I could expect from Christ’s promise to “have life, and have it to the fullest.” Looking back, I see that the times I looked at porn may have made God sad, but my lack of faith in his promise is what broke his heart. More than recovery from an addiction to lust, I needed a heart that truly believed Christ came not to make sin more manageable, but that he came to deliver me completely from sin’s power. My struggles with pornography were but a symptom of a much more serious disease—a lack of trust in my God.
After coming to this realization, I got the sense that what he wanted from me wasn’t more work. Instead, what I felt he was leading me to was to enter his rest. Jesus and I didn’t actually have the following conversation. But if I could have articulated the sense that he led me into, it would have been a conversation that would have gone something like this.
Me: (Dressed in the full armor of God, with my shield of faith in one hand and the sword of the Spirit in the other, fighting against an unrelenting enemy of temptation and lustful desires) “Jesus. You gotta help me. I’m really struggling here. Don’t you see how overwhelmed I am? How about a little help?”
Jesus: “Yeah I see you. All that fighting looks difficult. And you look like you are getting tired.”
Me (Sarcastically): “Yeah you think? Of course it’s difficult. Of course I’m getting tired. I’ve been fighting for a long time and there is no end in sight.”
Jesus: “How about putting down your sword and hanging out with me for a little bit?”
Me: “Won’t the enemy overtake me if I stop fighting?”
Jesus: “Not necessarily. Your enemy is my enemy. They’ve already been defeated. Why don’t you come and sit down by me?”
Me (Unsure about what would happen if I stopped fighting, slowly begin taking off my armor and hesitantly put down my sword, but I’m still tense.): “What now?”
Jesus: “Have a seat. Stretch out and lie down in this green pasture. There you go. Later we can take a stroll down to the quiet waters over there?”
Me (Starting to unwind): “That sounds neat. You know, this is kinda nice. It feels good to relax.”
Jesus: “It does, doesn’t it. You should do this more often.”
Me: “I really should. Do you do this a lot?”
Jesus: “Yeah. I’m here pretty much all the time.”
Me: “Cool.”
(…A few moments of silence…)
Me: “Hey, where did my enemies go?”
Jesus does indeed come to the rescue. But I have seen, that more often than not, he doesn’t rescue with sword and strength, but instead, with trust and rest. For too long, I have given my enemy too much credit. Fighting tooth and nail against an already defeated foe. Christ has already fought and won my battle.
I liken what God led me into to the experience the disciples had when they were on the boat with Jesus. A storm arose—the waves crashed, the winds rage, and yet while all of this was happening, Jesus was resting. I have often been the disciple who staggers up to Jesus as the storm gets worse, screaming, “WAKE UP!!! DON”T YOU SEE WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?! WAKE UP!” True deliverance, though, has not been found in waking Jesus to join me in my fighting, but rather in me joining him in his resting. The question I feel God asking of me is not, “Are you willing to fight?” Nor is it, “Are you willing to do the work of recovery.” But rather “Are you willing to put down your sword, stretch out and take a nap?”
There is though, a risk that comes with entering God’s rest. The Psalmist said it is in the midst of enemies, in the midst of trouble, in the midst of evil, that is the place where God prepares a table. At no point, I have gotten the sense that entering God’s rest means temptations are going away. In fact, the exact opposite could be said. Temptations and struggles will remain, especially in our society. But as real as those struggles may be, God is just a little bit more real. For as close as my enemies may be, he is closer. For as hurtful and shameful as my failures may be, his healing and justice are more profound.
I very much appreciate all the work that I have done over the past few years. I am indebted to the friends, mentors and counselors who helped me out along the way. My work provided me a measure of help and insight. But ultimately, it proved inadequate. It was incapable of freeing me from pornography’s hold. It did, however, lead me to one great insight. It showed me the end of myself. It showed me I can’t do it. I cannot work porn out of my life. I too, am inadequate.
A couple of years ago, I spent 3 weeks in the small African nation of Malawi. While there, I had the privilege of teaching a preaching class to the young pastors in the area. One of the hardest and funnest things I have ever done. While in Africa, though, I noticed the young pastors I was working with did not seem to be struggling with lust as I was (I’m sure they did struggle, just not to the degree I was). Part of the reason was because they didn’t seem to be facing near the level of temptation that I dealt with back in America.
As I returned home, I was saddened to come back to the same reality that I had left. My time in Malawi had almost been magical. Not only did I not see anything pornographic, I didn’t even think about it. Getting back home and back into my old routine, I was discouraged to once again face the same struggles and temptations, to be left with the same feelings of inadequacy. I cursed the injustice of it all. I wanted American culture to be more Malawian.
Like an old, forgotten tune, a new song began to rise my spirit. “My grace is sufficient for you.” As St. Paul pleaded with God to remove his thorn, back came a reply exalting the grace of God in any and all situations. Perhaps we do face greater sexual temptation than people living in other parts of the world. Perhaps we do have to enter into a struggle that is unknown to others. Maybe we have more reason to fear. More reason to doubt. Maybe we will know worse failures and stronger addictions. Maybe we will know a darker, harsher reality, and see more painfully our own limitations. If that be the case, then because God is with us, we will also know a greater grace. Even in the midst of a sexually over-saturated culture, God’s grace is still sufficient. As great as the sin and temptation we face can be, the grace of our Savior is greater. “Where sin abounds, so does grace all the more.” I may be inadequate, but he is sufficient.
In Greek mythology, the sirens were dangerous and deceptive creatures. They would lure sailors into shipwrecking their boats upon the rocks with their beautiful bodies and seductive singing. Sirens abound today. They are on TV, in magazines and they are definitely on the internet. They too tempt men and women into shipwrecking their lives upon their rocky coasts. Like the sirens of ancient Greece, contemporary sirens are not going to stop playing their alluring song of temptation.
But there is hope. According to legend, as his ship passed by the island the sirens sang from, the Greek commander Orphieus reached for his lyre, and began playing the most beautiful song ever heard. This more beautiful music drew the attention of his sailors and drowned out the song of the sirens. Just as the sirens of the internet are not going to stop singing their song, neither is our God going to stop singing his. I’m not sure what it sounds like to you, but to me it sounds like incarnation, rest and sufficiency. The chorus I hear centers around the most beautiful melody ever heard. True happiness, holy confidence and human freedom are not found in the absence of sin, but rather in the presence of Christ.
This post was written by Andy Messamore who is a graduate of Asbury Theological Seminary and serves at Pleasureville United Methodist Church in Pleasureville, KY.
For the original post, go to: http://seedbed.com/the-problem-of-pornography-a-manifesto/
BE HOLY.
BE A MAN.
For me, what started as a mild curiosity with the female anatomy quickly developed into an out of control pornographic problem. In the past 10 years, though, I have taken steps towards healing and recovery. To that end, I engaged in several ventures I thought would help facilitate this change. At one point in my journey, I was in an accountability group that met once a week. I was seeing a counselor every other week. And a part of a recovery group that met twice a week. An aspect of the recovery group was intentionally reaching out to others. This meant having a sponsor, whom I met with or called once a week. As well as reaching out to other members of the group, a couple of whom I called everyday. Recovery was my job—a job I didn’t get paid for.
While doing all of this work, however, the freedom I sought continued to elude me. It was helpful, but did not give me the peace of mind, or deliverance I thought it would. This was baffling. Although I never articulated this at the time, my expectation was that if I worked hard enough at getting better, I eventually would. This of course meant that if I were to fail or slip up, I was not yet putting in enough effort. So after an inevitable failure, I would re-double my efforts and begin again the arduous task of working pornography out of my life.
Albert Einstein once said that doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result was the very definition of insanity. I have pretty much nailed down the results of trying real hard to work porn out of my life. After performing this experiment countless times over several years, I have unequivocally proven that my effort and sin’s attractiveness have a proportional relationship with one another. As one increases, so does the other. The harder I tried to keep porn out, the more appealing it became. Over and over, the voice in my head kept saying, “Don’t think about pornography. Don’t think about pornography.” All of the recovery work I was doing reinforced this mantra. Is it any wonder that I continued to struggle with pornography?
Graciously, one night a new approach emerged. I was feeling particularly tempted to go online and look at porn. I did and didn’t want to at the same time, so I offered a few half-hearted prayers, then sat down on the couch to watch some T.V. After an hour of channel hopping, I was in even worse shape than when I started. It was like that dark desire in me had grown. Porn was a freight train, and I, a lowly ant, was standing on the tracks.
Not knowing what else to do, I begrudgingly started to do the “work” I had been trained to do. I tried praying again. Nothing. I read the ol’ familiar passages of Scripture that had helped me out before. Again, nothing. As I reached for my phone to call a few friends and once again tell them that I was struggling, I came face to face with the fact that nothing within me wanted to do anymore work. Not because I wanted to look at porn or because I didn’t want to get better. I didn’t want work because I was tired.
I was tired of always taking the initiative. Tired of always having to be super vigilant with what I was thinking and looking at. Tired of always calling people and awkwardly confessing the depths of my soul. Tired of always having to work at getting better. I was not just spiritually and emotionally tired. All the introspection and recovery that I was doing had worn me out physically. My bones were tired.
For you see, in my insecurity and brokenness, I had lowered my expectations of what God wanted from me. I believed that my endless cycle of failure and effort, was the best I could expect from Christ’s promise to “have life, and have it to the fullest.” Looking back, I see that the times I looked at porn may have made God sad, but my lack of faith in his promise is what broke his heart. More than recovery from an addiction to lust, I needed a heart that truly believed Christ came not to make sin more manageable, but that he came to deliver me completely from sin’s power. My struggles with pornography were but a symptom of a much more serious disease—a lack of trust in my God.
After coming to this realization, I got the sense that what he wanted from me wasn’t more work. Instead, what I felt he was leading me to was to enter his rest. Jesus and I didn’t actually have the following conversation. But if I could have articulated the sense that he led me into, it would have been a conversation that would have gone something like this.
Me: (Dressed in the full armor of God, with my shield of faith in one hand and the sword of the Spirit in the other, fighting against an unrelenting enemy of temptation and lustful desires) “Jesus. You gotta help me. I’m really struggling here. Don’t you see how overwhelmed I am? How about a little help?”
Jesus: “Yeah I see you. All that fighting looks difficult. And you look like you are getting tired.”
Me (Sarcastically): “Yeah you think? Of course it’s difficult. Of course I’m getting tired. I’ve been fighting for a long time and there is no end in sight.”
Jesus: “How about putting down your sword and hanging out with me for a little bit?”
Me: “Won’t the enemy overtake me if I stop fighting?”
Jesus: “Not necessarily. Your enemy is my enemy. They’ve already been defeated. Why don’t you come and sit down by me?”
Me (Unsure about what would happen if I stopped fighting, slowly begin taking off my armor and hesitantly put down my sword, but I’m still tense.): “What now?”
Jesus: “Have a seat. Stretch out and lie down in this green pasture. There you go. Later we can take a stroll down to the quiet waters over there?”
Me (Starting to unwind): “That sounds neat. You know, this is kinda nice. It feels good to relax.”
Jesus: “It does, doesn’t it. You should do this more often.”
Me: “I really should. Do you do this a lot?”
Jesus: “Yeah. I’m here pretty much all the time.”
Me: “Cool.”
(…A few moments of silence…)
Me: “Hey, where did my enemies go?”
Jesus does indeed come to the rescue. But I have seen, that more often than not, he doesn’t rescue with sword and strength, but instead, with trust and rest. For too long, I have given my enemy too much credit. Fighting tooth and nail against an already defeated foe. Christ has already fought and won my battle.
I liken what God led me into to the experience the disciples had when they were on the boat with Jesus. A storm arose—the waves crashed, the winds rage, and yet while all of this was happening, Jesus was resting. I have often been the disciple who staggers up to Jesus as the storm gets worse, screaming, “WAKE UP!!! DON”T YOU SEE WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?! WAKE UP!” True deliverance, though, has not been found in waking Jesus to join me in my fighting, but rather in me joining him in his resting. The question I feel God asking of me is not, “Are you willing to fight?” Nor is it, “Are you willing to do the work of recovery.” But rather “Are you willing to put down your sword, stretch out and take a nap?”
There is though, a risk that comes with entering God’s rest. The Psalmist said it is in the midst of enemies, in the midst of trouble, in the midst of evil, that is the place where God prepares a table. At no point, I have gotten the sense that entering God’s rest means temptations are going away. In fact, the exact opposite could be said. Temptations and struggles will remain, especially in our society. But as real as those struggles may be, God is just a little bit more real. For as close as my enemies may be, he is closer. For as hurtful and shameful as my failures may be, his healing and justice are more profound.
I very much appreciate all the work that I have done over the past few years. I am indebted to the friends, mentors and counselors who helped me out along the way. My work provided me a measure of help and insight. But ultimately, it proved inadequate. It was incapable of freeing me from pornography’s hold. It did, however, lead me to one great insight. It showed me the end of myself. It showed me I can’t do it. I cannot work porn out of my life. I too, am inadequate.
A couple of years ago, I spent 3 weeks in the small African nation of Malawi. While there, I had the privilege of teaching a preaching class to the young pastors in the area. One of the hardest and funnest things I have ever done. While in Africa, though, I noticed the young pastors I was working with did not seem to be struggling with lust as I was (I’m sure they did struggle, just not to the degree I was). Part of the reason was because they didn’t seem to be facing near the level of temptation that I dealt with back in America.
As I returned home, I was saddened to come back to the same reality that I had left. My time in Malawi had almost been magical. Not only did I not see anything pornographic, I didn’t even think about it. Getting back home and back into my old routine, I was discouraged to once again face the same struggles and temptations, to be left with the same feelings of inadequacy. I cursed the injustice of it all. I wanted American culture to be more Malawian.
Like an old, forgotten tune, a new song began to rise my spirit. “My grace is sufficient for you.” As St. Paul pleaded with God to remove his thorn, back came a reply exalting the grace of God in any and all situations. Perhaps we do face greater sexual temptation than people living in other parts of the world. Perhaps we do have to enter into a struggle that is unknown to others. Maybe we have more reason to fear. More reason to doubt. Maybe we will know worse failures and stronger addictions. Maybe we will know a darker, harsher reality, and see more painfully our own limitations. If that be the case, then because God is with us, we will also know a greater grace. Even in the midst of a sexually over-saturated culture, God’s grace is still sufficient. As great as the sin and temptation we face can be, the grace of our Savior is greater. “Where sin abounds, so does grace all the more.” I may be inadequate, but he is sufficient.
In Greek mythology, the sirens were dangerous and deceptive creatures. They would lure sailors into shipwrecking their boats upon the rocks with their beautiful bodies and seductive singing. Sirens abound today. They are on TV, in magazines and they are definitely on the internet. They too tempt men and women into shipwrecking their lives upon their rocky coasts. Like the sirens of ancient Greece, contemporary sirens are not going to stop playing their alluring song of temptation.
But there is hope. According to legend, as his ship passed by the island the sirens sang from, the Greek commander Orphieus reached for his lyre, and began playing the most beautiful song ever heard. This more beautiful music drew the attention of his sailors and drowned out the song of the sirens. Just as the sirens of the internet are not going to stop singing their song, neither is our God going to stop singing his. I’m not sure what it sounds like to you, but to me it sounds like incarnation, rest and sufficiency. The chorus I hear centers around the most beautiful melody ever heard. True happiness, holy confidence and human freedom are not found in the absence of sin, but rather in the presence of Christ.
This post was written by Andy Messamore who is a graduate of Asbury Theological Seminary and serves at Pleasureville United Methodist Church in Pleasureville, KY.
For the original post, go to: http://seedbed.com/the-problem-of-pornography-a-manifesto/
BE HOLY.
BE A MAN.
