Dark experiences have spawned my hatred for silence. I think of silence as an invitation to dine at a table of cold spoilage from the fridge of my memory. Even more, it is from this fridge that all my unresolved life pains present themselves only to be digested decades later—mold and all!
I recount the worst of these feastings not long ago. I was sitting in my Toyota as the dark of the evening quiet approached. I sat there unsettled to the soul despite the placid composure of my body. Voices rushed forth, “Will you tell her?…” “She needs to know…” “She’ll divorce you.” They continued… “You told her you are clean when really you’re a disgusting liar. You’re done, man.” I was alone, in silence. The menu that night was a decade of porn addiction along with the lies that followed. Lies to friends, family, my wife, and myself.
Sadly I am one of the many Christian men who have been addicted to porn (pastors and married men included). The numbers are jolting and increasing, and I’m assuming these numbers are from the honest addicts out there. I wasn’t. It’s easy to think that in order to be an addict you must consume your drug daily, ritually, and to the extent of a neurological dependency. Here’s a simpler definition: addiction is anything toxic to the soul that you’ve tried stopping but find yourself returning to.
Porn has been my coping mechanism. I use it to stuff down and numb the painful brokenness of my life that bubbles to the surface. Even more, as I ponder the matter more deeply, it’s not so much that I’m addicted to naked women, but that I’m fastened to the fantasies and lies embodied on my pocket screen.
At the altar of porn, I believed myself to be receiving something sensual and stimulating, something to take away the earthiness of this life. It was a religious bodily high where I would look into the eyes of my god and for a brief moment lay enamored with illusions of control and choices, as well as a rehearsed “love” that says, “I want you.”
Click by click I’ve noticed these fantasy lies warping the reality of who I am. In time I came to believe that I am a pornographer, liar, cheater, pervert and gross human being. The deceptiveness of this religion is that the virtual sex temple of porn shows up everywhere, offering you a sense of belonging and escape. It does this by manipulating your sacred biology. And should you choose to leave the temple, blackmail is there to remind you of the lies knitted to your soul that will be made public—hence your return.
Perhaps, like me, you have been caught in the undertow of shame, desperate to hide and escape the vicious cycle it imprisons you with. In this cycle, your addiction robes you in shame. You’ll recognize shame by lies you tell yourself born out of your addiction: they often begin with “I am disgusting, I am…” And that very shame drives you back to your addiction. As your high departs you’re left dry and feeling worthless. You have nothing to cling to but a fantasy devoid of any truth or real intimacy.
Be suspicious of any god that promises a painless cure. There is only one true God who boasts of his love for you and offers you a way out. It comes by believing the truth. Truth has a voice and you hear him in John 8 as he speaks to the adulterous woman trapped by religious zealots. This unnamed woman is caught in her adultery, waiting to be bashed with rocks, when the voice of Truth tells her, “You are not condemned, go and sin no more.”
In the silence of Calvary, Jesus conquered your sin and shame and now calls you beloved. It is a cure that comes by way of pain, real intimacy and deep cost. He is not ashamed of you; in fact, he wants to confront you with the truth of who you are as he walks with you through the dark night of your addiction.
I lied. I wasn’t alone that night in the Toyota, though it was easy to believe I was. I heard another voice, the voice that beckons each of us to walk in the light, in truth. The voice that told the woman in John 8 to “go and sin no more” is the same voice that lives today and echoed in my ear, “She needs to know.”
I have heard it said, “You cannot shame your way into recovery.” This is true. Shame is a punched ticket back to the island of addiction. Recovery happens by believing, confessing, and walking in the truth in community. I mention community because community hedges our habits of hiding and isolation. My prayer for you is that you are not just reminded of your daughtership or sonship in Jesus Christ, but that you believe him and his profession of love for you. From this love he calls you out of darkness into his light, and says to you, as he said to the woman in John 8, “Neither do I condemn you, go and sin no more.”