My lust story

I saw my first picture of a naked woman in grade eight. I can still remember what it did to me there in the dark – my fingers trembling, my heart pounding crazily, a flush of naïve curiosity overwhelmed by greedy hormones. I didn’t know it then, but a door opened – a door it would take more than 15 years to shut again.

A friend’s ample supply of Playboy magazines was enough to fan my lustful spark into a hungry flame. Masturbation came soon after. A gnawing craving drove me to the corner store once a month, where I became adept at slipping pornographic magazines under my jacket.

Now you have to understand: I grew up with nice Christian parents, brought home the trophies from Boy’s Brigade. You know, the model kid from a great home. But by the time I hit high school, I was masturbating compulsively, every day. In grade 12 I gave my life to Jesus, and some things changed, but the lust thing only got worse (yeah, worse!). Because now I got hammered by crushing guilt and shame every time I fell. And fell. And fell.

I went to Bible school, determined among other things to leave my bondage behind me. That year I fell in love with Jesus, and did manage to curb my masturbating habit some. There was no access to pornography, but I had a library of images plastered along the hallways of my mind to look at any time I wanted. And I did.

Begging

When I got back home, my youth pastor invited me to become a youth sponsor, which began my career in youth ministry. That helped. A little bit. But whenever I fell, the guilt was more intense than anything I had ever felt. I remember often writhing in a prostrate knot on the carpet, weeping into the floor and begging God to set me free from my hypocrisy. I probably prayed that prayer 10,000 times.

Then one day I got angry at God. “Why aren’t you setting me free?” I sliced at Him, placing the blame squarely at His feet.

“Because you don’t want me to,” came His gentle, bone-breaking reply.

He was right. Sure, I wanted to be free. But I also liked looking at naked women. I liked the rush of masturbating. Admitting this was painful, but it gave rise to a new daily prayer: “Then change my heart, Lord. I’m willing to be willing.”

Gaining ground

Over the next few years, I gained important ground with the Lord’s help. Through solid accountability with a group of like-minded brothers in Christ, learning to discipline my thoughts, and hanging onto Jesus for dear life, my habits were changing. My falls into masturbation and porn were now only a monthly occurrence. For me, it was a sign of hope.

When I met the lovely young woman who would become my wife, my desire for purity skyrocketed, for her if nothing else. My falls into sexual sin became less frequent. One day after one of those falls, I blurted out to God, “I wish I could just promise you and [my wife-to-be] that I would never masturbate again!”

That gentle Voice responded, “Why don’t you?”

I was shocked. “Well, because . . . it’s . . . isn’t that setting myself up for a fall?” Silence. The kind that speaks volumes. And I can’t explain what happened next except to say, that time was different, and I knew it. I made my promise on February 16, 1993, and have only broken it once. Praise the Lord!

This didn’t mean the stronghold of porn was gone. Before we got married, I told my girlfriend this whole story with my head hanging heavy with shame. She lifted my chin with her hand until I was forced to look into her eyes, where I found – to my surprise and relief – grace! It was as if Jesus were looking me in the eye. In fact, I know He was. I have been accountable (and married!) to her ever since. The deal God and I have is that I will tell her every time I cross the “sexual sin line.” My heart knows when that’s happened, and the Holy Spirit hasn’t let me off the hook once.

Freedom

Through blood, sweat, and tears, I was able “by the Spirit (to) put to death the misdeeds of the body” (Romans 8:13). The misdeeds. A huge accomplishment. But the deceitful desires hadn’t been touched yet. The battle on this score was intense to the extreme. I began musing again. “God, is this all there is? Is this victory? There must be a way to deal with the battle I feel inside, or I’m going to fail eventually.”

One day in the middle of a heavy temptation, I grabbed the emotional surge I was feeling by the throat and dragged it into the presence of God with me. “This!” I said. “This is what I’m feeling every time I get tempted. This is what I’m battling with! Lord Jesus, could you please show me where this is coming from?” To simplify the story, He did show me, displacing a deceitful desire with an eternal truth that set me free. And I mean, free.

That was three years ago. Yes, I still have to make good choices. I have to watch what I’m looking at. But the battle is gone.

This road has not been an easy one for my wife, as you can imagine. I have chosen to remain anonymous here to protect her heart, since my struggle has inevitably pierced her soul and self-esteem in painful ways. This is why accountability to her has been crucial. For one thing, if I confess everything to her, she never has to wonder if I’m hiding something. Secondly, she has been able to see my healing for herself.

Our hearts go out to what we treasure, Jesus says, and mine has obviously been all over the map. But along this road, I’ve also had a major revelation about my wife: she is a gift from God second only to my salvation. (These are not just pretty words, by the way). I’ve always done the husbandly things, always loved her. Now I can truly say she has my heart, and that’s a huge difference. She deserves no less.

The author is a husband, father, pastor.