Letter to myself:
God made me to be free, but the enemy planted land mines in your path. Dirty magazines in your granddad’s night stand. VHS’s in your best friend’s parents’ house. When your mom and dad split, all you have wanted was sex. Then you got it, and you wanted more. You sought out girls who would have you, when the girls you wanted wouldn’t. But what do you do with the raging 17-19 year old hormones and no girlfriends? Behold, the internet. Subscriptions to DVD’s and websites. Acts became habits, and your habits became addiction. But then Jesus became real to me. He has led me away from you so many times. Then you slip back in step with me anytime I pause to look away from Him. And once you grab my attention, I so easily slip back into the habit – it’s a really worn path. You have thrived in the absence of discipline. You have tricked me over and over, when I thought a new life in Jesus would stop you, you crept back in. When I chose a career in ministry, you waited in the shadows for moments of boredom, fear, or depression – and there you were, ready to reel me back in. When I got married, I thought you would disappear, but you were like rice from the reception – I found a piece of you in my shoe. So whenever life or my wife or my job let me down, you stepped in as my “support”. You’ve always been the dealer to sell me “comfort” or a “high” that I’ve earned. You try to convince me it’s free, i’ve earned it, you can go right back to the way things were before. Just a few minutes, just one evening while you’re alone, just a weekend. But it’s never “just” anything. No more! Because what you want for me is chains, and what God wants for me is freedom. And it’s becoming clear to me that the choice is mine, and freedom is better than anything you offer feels. The power you’ve held over me is huge. But you’re not God. You’re not his Spirit. I won’t let you take one more moment from my wife and daughter. I won’t let you hurt my ministry by stealing my power and confidence. You say you’re here to help ease the boredom, pain, and stress – you GIVE the stress! Without you, God could handle all my stress! You’re never there when I have to look myself in the mirror. You don’t make THAT easier. You make nothing easier. You’ve made me sick, physically and spiritually. You’ve stolen intimacy from my wife, and love from my daughter, and confidence from my heart. You don’t get to do that anymore. I may be powerless to stand in your way, but the Lord will destroy you. And together, He and I will speak of our victory over you. I have a few men who know about you now. They care about me, and they are fighting with me through prayer and encouragement. You will try to win some battles, but you have lost this war. Game on!
Letter from my sex addict:
I have permanently changed you. try whatever you want, I’ve made my mark. You can’t look at a female of any age or shape without evaluating them sexually. You can’t see beauty without exploiting it for your own lustful pleasure. Do you really think your eyes will ever work again without my influence? Go ahead, try. Look. Turn on Facebook, or the TV, or drive past a billboard. Try going to the beach. Take your daughter to the pool and try not to notice a single lady there. You won’t be satisfied until you’ve gotten your eyes full, and your mind full. You can’t help it. I’ve programmed you. Sure, you can make a big speech. And no doubt, if you were Jesus, I’d be beaten. But you’re not him. You’re not even close. It was over before it started. try to sin some battles, because you will ALWAYS be at war. And if it were up to me, you’d always lose. Don’t worry, if you win a few, it will make it that much sweeter when you get comfortable and confident and fall right back into my hands. Speaking of hands – you shake people’s hands with those? You look at loved ones with those eyes? You talk with people using that brain of yours filled with sexy images? Good. Let those be reminders to you that I own you. And there’s no getting the toothpaste back in that tube. I’ve branded you, forever. I laugh at your feeble attempt to get rid of me. Go ahead, take a few days off. I’ll be here when you get back. See you soon.