How Firm A Foundation, by John Rippon

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in His excellent Word!
What more can He say than to you He hath said,
You, who unto Jesus for refuge have fled?

In every condition, in sickness, in health;
In poverty’s vale, or abounding in wealth;
At home and abroad, on the land, on the sea,
As thy days may demand, shall thy strength ever be.

Fear not, I am with thee, O be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid;
I’ll strengthen and help thee, and cause thee to stand
Upheld by My righteous, omnipotent hand.

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of woe shall not thee overflow;
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials thy pathways shall lie,
My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply;
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine.

Even down to old age all My people shall prove
My sovereign, eternal, unchangeable love;
And when hoary hairs shall their temples adorn,
Like lambs they shall still in My bosom be borne.

The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose,
I will not, I will not desert to its foes;
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,
I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.

He Tried...

I’m angry. Don’t read this if you can’t hack it. Fair warning.

Now that my questioning mind has invited the rancor of several women (and one man) of my acquaintance, I’ll suppose I’ll just out with everything...

I have four problems at the moment (with a lot of other asides):

1. The stress of starting another new job. Yes, believe it or not I’m ready to return to some stability. I’m tired of getting to know people and then leaving them behind. I’m sick of having to keep adjusting my living and sleeping schedule. It’s my natural inclination to develop a fairly rigid routine and stick to it, but my world keeps spinning end over end and I can't get footing.

2. There’s a guy at our church whom I absolutely cannot stand, and I think he’s being groomed as an associate pastor or something-–maybe even the replacement to our current pastor. I don’t know. (He sure likes to call himself “pastor.”) I’ve had several interactions with him and every time he opens his mouth I get angry because he has no sense. He’s like a circling housefly. This is the first time I’ve ever experienced such a strong dislike for a guy who seems so nice. He’s Ned Flanders to my Homer Simpson. I love the guy, but I wish to avoid contact with him at all costs, and the irony is stressing me out. It’s becoming even more of a pain to get myself to church because I know he’s going to say something stupid and piss me off. Church is a difficult enough experience to get through, let alone when you’ve got some guy interrupting the worship to blab off shotgun prayers about supporting the President and saving all of America.

My biggest problem with him is that he's never been honest with me when we've conversed. Even though he seems to love talking about himself, he always speaks in vagueries when it comes to his weaknesses or struggles. He seems to be hiding himself behind a religious do-gooder's mask.

And sometimes in life you should really say nothing at all. A few days after my dad died, he said, "Just remember that he's still with you." He was trying to comfort me I guess, but I wanted to say, "Where'd you get that idea, bro? No, he ain't with me: he's somewhere else completely." But I just looked at him.

We attended the same Every Man's Battle and he insisted beforehand that we have separate rooms and separate small groups. "So," he told my wife, "I won't be focused on Steve's stuff while I'm there, instead of on my own stuff." Yeah, right. The truth is he doesn't want me to know his "stuff." We ate together several times and he knows all about my struggles, but he kept his own a secret.

Eventually I'm going to have to tell him outright that he offends me almost constantly. Bah.

3. My wife hates me. Yes, hates me. Or so she says. And I don’t blame her: I feel for her. She thinks I don’t understand her position, but I really do. The problem isn’t my lack of understanding, but my apparent inability to control my emotions. I’m doing okay these days keeping my behavior under wraps, but I can’t bring my heart in line with what my head’s saying. That pisses her off. The struggle pisses her off. And I’m out of ideas for how to fix it all.

4. Right now I would swim through molten lava to get five minutes on the phone with “the other woman.” The heavy reliance I had on porn (especially while I was on the road) is in remission, but I’m still dealing with the withdrawal of having made a decision to have nothing to do with a woman I love.

It’s pandemonium in my heart. Death without a corpse. Pande-fucking-monium.

Most guys I talked to at Every Man’s Battle were dealing with addiction to porn or fantasy, or with going to massage parlors or having lots of anonymous sex in seedy parts of town–-stuff like that. Even among the people I know personally who struggle with sexually addictive behavior, I’m the only one who’s said, “I fell in love with a girl who wasn’t my wife, and physical distance from her hasn’t made my feelings go away. What’s the deal here, man?”

In spite of my stoic outward appearance, I'm a romantic person. I'm way over the top, boy. But I don’t have a lot of gushy, romantic feelings for my wife. In fact I resent her, just as she resents me. My brain says, “There’s no future with that other girl, and it would all end badly.” But my heart won’t agree. Why?

Why the hell won't it agree? Oh God, what if it never goes away? What if this torture goes on for the rest of my life? I'd physically choke it out if I could. I'd beat my body into bloody heaps of warm pulp if it would accomplish anything.

See, this is why I understand Number 3. It’s unfair to Jessica. It doesn’t make sense. If she said, “Leave Steven, just get out,” I wouldn’t blame her at all. I want to feel passion for her again, but in our early years of marriage I dammed my heart towards her because she hurt me. She’s still hurting me. We’re hurting each other. And now I’m really trying, straining to the point of tears and violence to myself, being honest about my feelings, lying in bed at night shaking with the pain and raging conflict. But I can’t get the water to flow again. It’s flowing towards someone I can’t see, talk to, or touch.

Fuck. Just fuck.

I can’t seem to stop sabotaging myself.

Soulmates

Are they real? Or are they nothing more than romantic shadows cast by wistful, heartbroken poets?

If they're real, are they born or made? Can you become another person’s soulmate by focusing time and energy on the process, or are you at the mercy of fate and fortune?

Do you know you’ve found a soulmate because of what you feel, or because of what you’ve committed yourself to? Is it possible to be with your soulmate and not realize it?

Do questions like this even matter?

(This entry kept under 100 words, for Ptiza’s sake.)

Another Day, Another Fight

The extramarital relationship I entered five years ago was marked, not by mere sexual cravings and experience, but by a deep and stubborn emotional bond to the woman I loved. Stubborn, I say, because it is still present inside me, and I struggle to deny it every single day. Not in terms of its existence within my heart, but its validity. I have no right to love any woman but my own wife. I have no right to desire another man’s wife (or future wife) no matter what the plane, be it physical, spiritual, or emotional.

This morning I awoke from a dream of her, but it was not a sexual dream. In the vision I was merely trying to talk to her, embrace her, and tell her I still care deeply for her. My wife was nearby as I engaged this quest to get a moment alone with my friend, and when I finally embraced the woman, I couldn’t enjoy the hug because I was looking in all directions for my wife to come appearing out of nowhere, catch me with the other lady, and lower the boom.

What we deny by day, we dream by night.

I woke up discouraged and disturbed. It makes no sense to me how I could still be having such a hard time when I haven’t even seen this girl in nine months. I’m impatient. I want the storm of conflicting emotions to pass. I want to get through a day without having to battle my own thoughts of wondering how the other woman is doing, worrying about her, or wishing I could talk to her. I’m frustrated because I know none of this is about her, my wife, my many disappointments in life, or any other outside thing: it’s about me. I'm angry, and weary of having a broken heart.

The battle for purity is a contest for the mind, and in the warfare I am--as ever--my own worst enemy.

The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick. Who can understand it? (Jeremiah 17:9)

The night is almost gone, and the day is at hand. Let us therefore lay aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us walk properly as in the day, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual promiscuity and sensuality, not in strife and jealousy. But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh in regard to its lusts. (Romans 13:12-14)

But you, man of God...pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, perseverance and gentleness. Fight the good fight of faith... (1 Timothy 6:11, 12)

Is Marriage About Sex?

I wanted to place this under the comment section of the previous entry since I am replying to several issues raised by an anonymous commenter there (whom I will refer to as "Anon.") But I won't be updating this journal until next week, most likely, so I figured what the hey...I'll just make it a post and let people figure it all out for themselves.

I appreciate Anon’s comments because they are thoughtful, expressed well, and respectful. He didn’t call anyone names or come out with a personal attack. He simply vocalized his thoughts, and powerfully so. His thoughts and mine represent not just a clash of ideas, but conflicting world views. The ideas we hold are the branches that flow from root philosophies--core beliefs that shape our perceptions of the world and the meaning of life as it pertains to relationships. I will presently demonstrate stark differences between his core beliefs and mine.

* * * * *

"You're out somewhere around Jupiter. Come back to Earth."

This first line made me smile because it evokes the image of crabs in a bucket. Since a lot of people don’t live near the beach, I’ll explain. When you go out “crabbing” to catch yourself a dinner of blue crabs, you need only bring a small bucket with you to put them in--it doesn’t even require a lid. Just a little water for the crabs to frolic around in as they await their destinies in the boiling pot of doom.

“But,” you ask nervously, “won’t the crabs just climb out of the bucket when my back is turned?”

Oh yes, dear. They’ll try. But they won’t succeed. Do you know why?

Because any time one crab tries to climb above his captured brethren and escape the world of the tiny bucket, the other crabs reach out and pull him right back down. The way out of the prison isn’t some hidden, mystical thing--it’s in plain view of them all. But none can get free because the majority overwhelms the individual’s quest for independence.

Most of us can probably remember a time when this trend played itself out in our lives, when there was intense pressure from peers to conform. And most of the resistance doesn’t come from strangers, but from friends and relatives who don’t appreciate the changes they’re seeing in us, or think we've gone berserk.

I haven't gone berserk, loved ones. I'm just not content to persist in mainstream patterns of thought and behavior that have gotten me nowhere.

* * * * *

"We're all just animals. It's not the 'devil' tempting you. It's a biological need to procreate and spread your genes in order to ensure the continuation of the species. Porn is what happens when biology is subjugated with ethics based on an out dated belief system."

A contradiction in logic appears in the first Anon comment which colors everything else he says with confusion, and that is the assertion that human beings are animals, with the implied message that Christians are subjecting themselves to “an outdated belief system.”

Anon exposes his root, his core belief, right from the start. He is a Darwinist; he believes the theory of Evolution. To the casual thinker this is insignificant, but it is essential to understanding everything that follows. Notice I do not say it nullifies the things he says, or makes them true or untrue, but that it helps us understand his other ideas. Anon’s viewpoint is rooted in a religion. Darwinism has become a religion in the world.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Steve,” you say. “Evolution is about science, not religion.”

Oh but it is a religion, dear. Anon has faith in his heart, just as I do. His faith is placed in an unproven theory that is not based on scientific evidence (or else it wouldn’t be a theory) that somehow, against all odds and probabilities, life just sort of happened. Acceptance of this theory, apparently without question or reservation, constitutes his rejection of the idea that an intelligent Being created the universe. It's like a lens over his eyes, a filter through which he views life, understands human behavior, and interacts with the surrounding world.

Blind acceptance is religion, not science.

The reason the so-called scientific community gets excited every few years and craps their pants because of the discovery of some fossil or skull that might be the “missing link” is because no link exists. There is no bridge between their trusted assumptions and reality, and it galls them. Yet the masses accept this viewpoint as if it were indisputable. Why?

Two reasons. One, it's the only tune that gets good radio play. And two, the only other option is that the universe was preceded by a Creator. This the Darwinist finds threatening and scary, because accepting that idea would raise a lot of other questions he doesn't want to consider.

“But,” you say, “the ideas of intelligent design or Creationism are unproven theories, too. And everyone who’s anyone accepts evolution as fact, even though it’s not technically proven yet.”

Of course, dear, of course. We all have faith. It’s just a matter of where we place that faith, in what we trust. The problem with what Anon and many others believe is the confusion it leads them to. When our thinking begins (as did his comment) that we are just higher apes of some kind, that our existence is a result of some lucky roll of the cosmic dice, our thoughts will ultimately--and probably subconsciously--lead us to conclusions like this:

* Life has no intrinsic value (thus abortion, murder, suicide, and genocide are permissible and should not be questioned).
* The individual has no destiny, no inherent worth. He is a cosmic burp, a chance occurrence.
* Moral questions are irrelevant.
* There is no “meaning of life” or reason to live, except to procreate and try to have a good time.
* Art, music, composition, and even thought are all absurdities in the universe which amount to nothing.
* There is no God, no hereafter. All religious ideologies are mythic fairy tales. It all ends at death.

And since when is something true or untrue based on how many people buy into it? If something’s true, it’s true. It doesn’t become untrue regardless of who believes or rejects it. If I insist the world is flat but you insist the world is round, you’re right and I’m wrong no matter how many people agree with me. Even if I get the most educated, intelligent, powerful people in the world on my side, the truth doesn’t change. Therefore your “belief system” can never become outdated as it is based in unyielding truth, and my cohorts and I are all deceived because the world is, in fact, a sphere.

When things are unproven, the mind should remain open to all possibilities. But in Anon’s case (at least at this point in time), his words reveal a closed mind.

Ask yourself this. Since neither of the two theories regarding the origin of man have been scientifically proven, would you rather believe the theory that emphasizes life, goodness, destiny and hope, and the idea that a benevolent Being is responsible for bringing you and this world into existence? Or will you put your trust in the school of thought that accentuates death, violence, amorality, meaninglessness, and leaves you without hope that you will ever find anything of spiritual substance beyond what you can feel and possess?

* * * * *

A paraphrase of Anon’s first comment might be, “We are animals with biological urges. Our spouses are obligated to fulfill those urges. That’s why marriage exists. If wives do so their men will not have a problem with wanting to get those urges satisfied elsewhere.”

First off, you cannot insist we are animals and then try to make a moral argument about anything. It’s contradictory to reason. Isn’t it obvious that if we are mere mammals, creatures of instinct, then morality doesn’t matter? Morality is pointless in the animal kingdom; in fact it would be a detriment to “survival of the fittest.” In general terms, animals kill each other, steal, eat their progeny, and screw all their friends; and they don’t struggle with guilt or worry about whether their actions are right or proper. (I concede that people sometimes act like animals.) If we are truly beasts then there is no compelling reason to pursue anything above eating, sleeping, and fucking. Life means nothing. Death means nothing. Even pleasure eventually means nothing.

I am astonished at the simple-minded scope of Anon’s definition of marriage.

For one thing, defining marriage as “a mutually exclusive right to sex whenever you want it” is a contradiction of Darwinist doctrine. If the interest of Mother Nature is to perpetuate the human race, and the drive of men is to spread their genes, then the obvious conclusion is that we should all have sex with as many attractive partners as possible. We shouldn't feel guilty about this urge, and we certainly shouldn’t attempt to subdue it, because it's natural. It's who we are.

Anon's idea that people get married to have sex with only one person for the rest of their lives is an assumption, and a ludicrous one. It doesn’t take into account the origin and history of marriage in the human race, the connection of a man and woman on financial, familial, vocational, parental, and spiritual planes above and beyond mere physical pleasure, or the strange and sometimes bizarre complexities of human behavior.

Anon also claims that if a woman does everything she can to satisfy her man, he won’t stray. Human experience (and the confessions of honest men) prove this supposition radically false. Married men have been known to cheat on a woman they truly love, and the reverse is also true.

A man can have a quickie with his wife first thing in the morning, walk outside to get the paper, see his neighbor’s wife bending over in her rose bushes, and think, “God, that ass is spectacular. I wonder if she’s wearing a thong under those shorts? Wonder what it’d be like to tag her?”

These are not harmless thoughts, because his proclivity to engage in fantasy leaves him vulnerable to eventually acting on those ideas, even though he pledged undying love to his wife moments before while in her embrace. If the neighbor's wife feels dissatisfied in her relationship with her husband, she may be intentionally trying to attract male attention, and she may walk over and begin flirting with him. In the man's mind, he has already lost the battle, because in his thought-life he flung the door wide open when he should have slammed it shut. And all the while he never stopped loving his wife in terms of the feelings in his heart.

A married man struggles with addiction to pornography, not because of anything his wife does or fails to do, but because he wants to look at naked women. Which in turn breeds discontent in his relationship with his wife, and becomes its own excuse for looking at more porn. There are individuals who have sex or masturbate compulsively, yet never find satisfaction in the near-constant sexual release.

Many men get married naively thinking that marriage (mutually exclusive sex anytime they want it) will cure them of the problems they had before marriage, and it's true that the problem usually goes away during the honeymoon period--for a couple of years or so.

But it comes back. The lust, roving eyes, impurity, and feelings of dissatisfaction and emptiness always come back, marriage notwithstanding, because the problem does not have a physical cause, as Anon would like to believe. It's like taking a drink, but constantly being thirsty. Or scratching an itch again and again that never stops itching.

Anyone with a background in behavioral science will tell you, "Thoughts lead to behavior." To change behavior, you've got to change the thoughts. Anon’s comment implies that the behavior cannot be changed, because it is a biological impulse implanted in men as a result of evolution. This is an opinion, and it is false.

In addition, Anon excludes aberrations in human sexuality such as homosexuality and pedophilia--traits which, from a perspective of "natural selection" and passing on our genetic code, should not exist. Consider also the married couples who engage in “married-but-looking” affairs, wife-swapping, or “open” marriages where other partners are invited into the marriage bed, which means they're not interested in “mutually exclusive” sex at all, as Anon insists. Furthermore--and this is really obvious, as pointed out by Sikki--you need not be married to have sex with one partner for the rest of your days.

Anon makes yet another assumption by saying a “low [sex] drive is [generally] a result of a hormonal imbalance.”

An acquaintance of mine is a drug representative for Pfizer, the company that brought Viagra to the world. I was talking with her one day and she told me the organization has been conducting extensive research with the aim of producing a female equivalent to the profitable drug--a miracle cure for frigidity, as it were: a pill to ignite a woman’s lagging libido. But the Pfizer labs have been frustrated as they’ve spent millions to discover what women (and a few men) the world over already know: they won’t spread their legs for a creep.

When a woman goes to a doctor or psychiatrist complaining of a low sex drive, the first thing the specialist asks is, “What’s going on in your relationship?” If she feels insecure, betrayed, taken for granted, unloved, unappreciated, abused, fearful, or angry--guess what? Her sex drive’s null. In the vast majority of cases, her lack of desire for sex is explained by a damaged or dwindling emotional connection to her spouse. And guess what else? When she has sex out of a forced sense of duty to her husband while she’s feeling trampled inside, it makes her feel used--like a prostitute--and her resentment for him deepens. Finally, there can be issues in a woman’s history that make aspects of sex frightening or unpleasurable to her, or make it hard for her to connect emotionally with her partner, such as molestation by a trusted family member.

The idea that there is a miracle pill to cure every human struggle skirts the real issues and takes the pressure off people to examine their lives and commit to change.

Those are some of the problems from a logical standpoint with the first Anon comment. Please note that I, the Christian, did not quote a single Bible verse. :)

Now for the second comment...

* * * * *

Anon’s next comment (unlike the first) contains a lot of points I agree with, but many of the problems that surfaced in his first post are also obvious here. Since he takes on a more formal tone of debate in his address to Sikki, declaring her argument invalid, I assume his desire is to present a logical rebuttal. This he fails to do, though some of his ideas make sense in the specific context (such as with the story of the wife who uses guilt to keep her husband emotionally downtrodden).

His first argument that “porn is what happens when...” would be instantly shot down by anyone who’s ever been to a group based on the Twelve Steps, such as Alcoholics Anonymous. People show up at those meetings and say, “I drink because I had a bad childhood.” Or, “My wife drives me to drink.” Or, “I drink to numb myself.” The addicted person finds ten thousand excuses for why he engages in his destructive, compulsive behavior (and the ones who seem to be the best at deceiving themselves and others are the smart ones--the intellectuals). An addict develops a lifestyle of kidding himself and others: he lives in a complex web of lies. It isn’t until he honestly says, “There is no excuse...I am completely responsible for my poor choices and harmful actions,” that he’s ready to begin the process of change.

Anon asserts that if a man feels sexually unfulfilled, he will look at porn. He could just as easily say if a man is unfulfilled he will hire a prostitute, get angry and kick a smaller man’s ass, or smoke crack. Or if a woman is dissatisfied she will chat with strange men on the internet for ten hours a day, eat like a whale, or spend thousands on an out-of-control shopping spree. Yes, these things happen. But they shouldn’t be regarded as absolutes, as inevitable, unavoidable reactions to disappointment in life.

There is no acceptable excuse for infidelity in lieu of the marriage vows. Period. Just as there is no excuse for beating the snot out of your children, stealing a sports car, or killing your mother-in-law.

Human history and personal experience are testimony that willpower (which Anon calls “intellect”) is not sufficient to keep people away from destructive behavior. Nor are “feelings of affection and loyalty.” Ask any human being on earth if he always makes wise choices, and if he’s honest he’ll respond negatively. Does he always do the right thing? No. In fact, he finds himself strongly pulled to desires and behaviors he knows are wrong and will ultimately leave him feeling empty inside. Behavior analysts and writers have called this “the human condition.” The Bible calls it “sin.” It’s spurious to argue that a man will make right choices so long as he has a good mental understanding of when his pain will end, or as long as he feels strong emotions.

Emotions are subjective, prone to erratic changes, and should not be considered in decision-making. There are times when a spouse doesn’t feel loved. There are times when a husband will feel like he is being treated unfairly by his wife (and perhaps he is), or when he feels strong attraction to another woman. Something greater than feelings is ultimately necessary to bond a relationship through moments when the gooey emotions surrounding love and romance are not keenly felt, or not present at all.

What should a man do when he encounters a situation like the one Anon describes? How should a spouse react when they discover disagreeable things about their partner after the wedding? What’s the proper way to cope when one partner is too depressed or self-absorbed to react lovingly, or fails to meet the legitimate needs of his or her spouse? Yes, we have a right to mutually exclusive sex. But what happens when a man, for whatever reason, doesn’t get the thing he has a right to?

These are situations married people will face, and they are all unfair. Logic, argument, emotional appeals, lots of healthy sex, and even great communication won’t make these issues go away. Every married person will experience anger and resentment towards his spouse, everyone will be let down and have unmet expectations.

The common, ordinary human reaction to these slights and offenses–-whether they’re real or imagined--is to withdraw, to bail out of the marriage. To abandon ship, if not physically, then emotionally. Divorce statistics in the Western world speak for themselves.

Times like these are exactly the reason why God--who invented both marriage and sex within marriage, and whom Anon says has little bearing on the relationship--is essential to holding it all together. He understands you both, and knows you better than you know yourselves. Anon doesn’t venture a guess as to why “even pagans” experience “a level of uncertainty and unfulfillment” in their premarital sexual relationships, or why a woman might withhold sex to try and control the marriage--probably because the answer to these questions would necessitate exploration of the soul, issues that go beyond the physical realm. But because of Anon’s fear of admitting God’s relevance in this sphere of life, for his sake I will leave God out of this discussion. He is correct, though, that making a marriage work takes more than God and prayer.

* * * * *

Traditional wedding vows usually include these lines, or something similar:

I, (Bride/Groom), take you (Groom/Bride), to be my lawful wedded (wife/husband), to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward till death do us part.

I have never heard wedding vows include an explicit statement concerning sex. Anon mentioned his wife, so we know he’s married. If he really believes the foundation of marriage is sex (which I consider to be a branch on the marriage tree, not the tree itself) I have to wonder what kind of vows he exchanged with his wife. Did he really say “[I] plan to have sex with [you] for the rest of [my] life, in sickness and in health, for better or worse?”

That whole “I plan...” statement doesn’t fill me with confidence; it doesn’t sound too certain. I’ve already demonstrated the absurdity of trying to reduce marital union to the mere physical act of sex, or even of having children. On the contrary, the vows are much more encompassing, and usually imply personal commitment in the sight of a higher authority (be it God, a minister, or a justice of the peace) to unconditionally love our spouse in every situation life brings our way until death separates us.

The reason the vows are so rigid is because marriage is supposed to be permanent. The vows are unbendable so that the married couple cannot consider separation or divorce as an option when things get tough. (And they WILL get tough.) Because of the vows, a married man should think, “She and I have to either work these issues out, or be miserable the rest of our lives.”

When there is no escape, when the couple is committed to stay together no matter what happens, the only option is to grow up, learn to live unselfishly, and make the relationship work. That’s what they commit to on wedding day. That’s what love is: making loving choices on the other person’s behalf even when it goes against what’s natural, what violates our "rights," or what flies in the opposite direction of our hurt feelings.

The permanency of marriage (also God’s idea) is what fosters a stable family environment for children to grow in, a cohesive sense of community and responsibility, and the sense of security an individual needs when times get really tough and life throws curve balls. Marriage is the bedrock of society. Our society is seething with dissatisfaction and unhappiness because marriage is not held in esteem, is not supported, and because people enter into marriage without taking the wedding vows seriously.

There was nothing in my wedding vows to indicate that my promise was only in effect as long as my spouse made me euphorically happy and met all my needs and expectations all the time. She’s my wife and I committed myself to her. That’s that. End of discussion.

Give Me Understanding, That I May Live

Someone asked in the comments of the previous post why I think masturbation is wrong. I’ll say more about that in the future, but for now I’ll say that I don’t believe the physical act of masturbation is necessarily sinful--it may even have arguable benefits. It’s the fantasy aspect of masturbation that makes it wrong for me. (Which of course prompts the question, “Well, what’s the matter with fantasy?” More on that later, too.) Anytime I masturbate I also fantasize: I look at a picture of a woman, or I think of myself being with a woman who’s not my wife, or I think of my wife doing something she wouldn’t normally do. Masturbation is an inherently selfish, isolated act, and from the standpoint of marriage, when I masturbate I feel I am robbing my wife of a time of intimacy and connection that is hers by rights. From a Biblical perspective, my body belongs to her, and her body to me.

Let the husband render to his wife the affection due her, and likewise also the wife to her husband. The wife does not have authority over her own body, but the husband does. And likewise the husband does not have authority over his own body, but the wife does. (1 Corinthians 7:3, 4)

People think Christians have a problem with sex, but the Bible actually instructs married people to have sex and plenty of it.

* * * * *

Your testimonies are righteous forever; Give me understanding that I may live. (Psalm 119:144)

The current pressure from internal compulsions and external circumstances are broader in scope and more powerful in force than anything in my previous experience. I’m in an almost constant state of inner tension.

Yesterday was the first time I have “acted out,” or fallen back on a behavior that I know is harmful to me and my family. The internet in our home is protected and monitored by SafeEyes, but while Jessica and the kids were out yesterday, and I was home alone, I bypassed the SafeEyes program by using a person-to-person file sharing network to download several pornographic pictures and masturbate to them.

It was wholly unsatisfying. Yet even as I write this I find myself wishing I could view them again. That’s the nature of this conflict.

When we purchased the software, I gave Jessica administrative rights to the SafeEyes program (which means she can see all of my web activity anytime she wants to, whether I am online or off). So when she came home, I asked her to log into the program and ban P2P file sharing networks. Once she had, I confessed what I had done and asked her to forgive me. She was very gracious about it.

Even though it was a failure in one sense, it was also a victory. I resisted the first natural urges to cover the whole thing up--and I could have easily done so. No one’s as adept at sneakiness and deception as I. But I don’t want to go backwards. I want to progress and be totally free from this addiction. And I know (and now my wife knows) that when I’m alone, I need to be cautious. I need to have a clear plan for how I’ll spend that time, because I’m more vulnerable when I’m by myself without a mission.

Today I was mowing the grass and a little snippet from a Psalm entered my head. I prayed it several times as I walked the length of the yard: “Give me understanding, that I may live.”

I love that verse. People might prefer it to read this way: “Give me understanding, that I may know.” But it’s not necessarily about knowledge. Knowledge does not equal salvation or spirituality or closeness to God, and often it’s not even helpful. Knowing is easier than “hearing." Giving mental assent to truth isn't the same as owning it and walking under the power and responsibility it brings.

“He who has ears,” said Jesus, “let him hear.” Of course He wasn’t talking about physical ears, but of spiritual perception and receptivity, which is a thing we can choose to cultivate or ignore. Knowing His voice often requires a willful, persistent denial of other voices and distractions around us.

What I need is to hear the present, active word of God so that I can finally have success at living. Not in some dream or vision of the future, but in the here and now. I know a lot--more than most people, honestly. But I’m only just now learning how to live.

Back in the Fight

This has been a trying week, but I’m encouraged by that.

One of the ways you know you’re on the right track from a Christian perspective is that when you make a solid commitment and begin to follow the Lord, things can go from bad to worse. This is very discouraging to some people who don’t understand or believe there are evil forces at work in the world which resist God, His people, and His plan for creation.

But if you understand that this life is a battle, you are encouraged when spiritual resistance meets you, because it’s confirmation that you’re back in the fight. If you’re spiritually complacent or ignorant, the enemy of souls doesn’t bother you. A lot of Christians think the devil is lurking behind every bush, waiting to pounce on them. But the probable truth is that the devil isn’t too worried about most Christians since they aren’t much of a threat to him. Satan prioritizes well; he targets those who endanger his schemes.

And the evil spirit answered and said, "Jesus I know, and Paul I know; but who are you?" (Acts 19:15)

Anyway, on to news from the front...

I’m home, and that’s good. I’m trying to keep up my running and get back into a routine of fitness, which isn’t difficult because my job requires me to lift obscenely heavy doors, cabinets, and stacks of lumber--again and again and again. I’m also eating more nutritious food than when I was on the road. Bills are paid and needs are met. I’m waking up every morning at quarter-to-five to spend some time in prayer and reading because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to fit devotional time into the day.

On the flip side, I haven’t made time to really solidify the “accountability relationships” I know are necessary to pursue sexual integrity. I have to make that a priority this week. Basically I have two guys from my church I’ll be checking in with every week or two. One’s my pastor and one’s my next door neighbor. They’ve both known me since I was a teenager, and know my family. They’ll ask me questions about how I’ve been sexually tempted since I last talked to them and how I handled the temptation. Accountability is only as good as my honesty and transparency, though.

And speaking of temptation, that’s been pretty tough this week, especially in the last two days. I haven’t looked at porn or masturbated at all since I attended Every Man’s Battle (I only mention them together since they went hand-in-hand in my experience, as almost a daily occurrence). But I’ve caught myself again and again indulging in fond memories of a former lover. During the day I deflect my thoughts of her as soon as I realize I’m having them, but they are persistent. Sometimes I feel a sadness and sense of loss when she comes to mind: I miss her. And last night I dreamed about her all night long. Nothing sexual about the dream, per se, but throughout the night I saw (and felt) visions of struggle with conflicting feelings of wanting to embrace her and get her alone, while at the same time desiring to walk away from her forever.

I’ve found I have to be careful about web sites I visit, especially on Journalspace.com, where I host another journal. A lot of ladies there (even some Christian women) post provocative, intentionally salacious pictures of themselves that have created a familiar inner tension in me that can lead to stumbling. Basically I’m limiting myself to the journals and web sites I know are safe.

I’ve had about 50/50 success with “bouncing” my eyes, a technique I learned at the seminar. It’s pretty simple, really. A man’s eyes are the entrance to his mind because men are very visual, especially when it comes to sexuality. What enters his mind and takes root there can affect his behavior.

All of us have eyes that we’ve trained to seek the sexual. When we’re sitting at a stop light, we look around to see what cutie might be driving next to us. When a woman bends over to pick something off the ground, our eyes automatically gravitate to her. We’ve been taught by our culture that this is normal behavior, and maybe it is in terms of an “everyone does it, so why can’t I?” mentality. But it's not God’s desire for us, and it brings us no peace. God never intended us to have heat-seeking eyes. So “bouncing” is about developing a habit of looking away when our eyes or minds are suddenly violated by something impure or out of sync with God’s purpose and intention.

So when I see something sexual or enticing that’s not my wife--be it a billboard, a beachcomber in a bikini, a blog entry about a woman sunbathing or having sex, a waitress with nice cleavage leaning in front of me to write my order on her notepad, a woman in church wearing shorts that are too short--I want to bounce my eyes away from her onto something else.

The process is truly difficult right now. Not just in terms of pursuing purity, but the whole package of life. I’m hopeful though. My faith is not in “what” I believe, but in “Whom.”

For this reason I also suffer these things; nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day. 2 Timothy 1:12

I am dependent on Him.

Seamlessness

One of the things mentioned at the Every Man’s Battle seminar was the idea of “seamlessness.” The speaker mentioned it almost in passing, but when I heard it I knew the concept was great and vast and transforming--I had to own it, had to possess that knowledge and make it my reality.

“Seamlessness,” said the speaker, “is very simple to understand: it means you are the same person wherever you go.”

I sat stunned, struck between the eyes with point-blank truth.

Before that day I never considered the fact that I habitually portrayed a separate version of myself to people, depending on my surroundings. In church I acted one way, at work I acted another way. Who I was around my wife and children was different than when I was with friends or chatting with online acquaintances.

And of course when I was by myself, I was VERY different. D.L. Moody wrote, “Character is who you are in the dark.” In other words, you are your truest self when no one else can see you. That persona was the one I kept hidden away, even from my family and deepest loves. I was afraid people might glimpse my dysfunctional, addicted, perverted, raging, flawed, sick self. People saw only what I wanted them to see, and I tried to keep the rest under wraps.

Increasing seamlessness is essential to the pursuit of integrity. It shouldn’t matter where you encounter me--I should be the same person wherever I am, whoever I’m talking to, whatever I’m doing. And even though I knew the process would probably take a good while, I decided right then, “I won’t live a fragmented, compartmentalized existence any more. For better or for worse, people are going to be able to trust the fact that they just met Steve Hobbs: a man, not a mask.”

Strange how something so obvious can elude recognition for so long.

Flashpoint Truth, Part 2

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will guide you with My eye.
Do not be like the horse or like the mule,
Which have no understanding,
Which must be harnessed with bit and bridle,
Else they will not come near you.” (Psalm 32:8, 9)

I’m a mule. In the past few weeks I’ve seen that God can do whatever He must to get us next to Him, even if it means a harness for a time. By bit and bridle I was led to a men’s conference, and found myself immersed in an atmosphere where I had nothing to do but think about the past several years. There was no escape in terms of being able to flip on a video game or read a book or watch the Simpsons or find some other way to avoid inner inspection.

I could have continued to resist. But when you’re certain God’s gone to a lot of trouble to put fire under your ass, it’s hard to take it for granted. For me, at least. Even through the pain, it’s encouraging when you realize He’s still interested in you and hasn’t given up on you (though you gave up on yourself long ago). So I chose to start facing reality. And when I made that choice, He was there to help.

The first step was confessing the struggle or, more accurately, to confess I really wasn’t “struggling” at all. Let’s face it: most denizens of Western culture don’t even recognize sexual impurity as a serious problem. Married people, single, divorced, whatever–-even Christians–-toy with lascivious thoughts and behavior as if it’s not snaring, marring, unsatisfying, shameful, empty, deadly sin. To some degree, I’d convinced myself that my roving eyes and heart were probably just normal. I wasn’t contesting the behavior or striving for change: I’d made a kind of truce or compromise with it. In my head I knew what God’s standard for purity was, but in my heart I didn’t believe it was feasible.

Here’s what I learned about myself on the first day of the conference:

1. Though I’ve told the truth sometimes about my behavior, I haven’t allowed the consequences of those deeds to lead me to God. I’ve never stopped and considered how my actions have affected me, my wife, my children, my brothers and sisters in Christ, people I’ve worked with, online contacts, or even God Himself. I’ve never really felt sorrow over my poor choices. In fact, I’ve defended and excused them.

2. I’ve never confessed my need to other people, preferring instead to isolate myself. Again, recognizing and acknowledging need is tough in our culture, where it’s viewed as weakness to say, “This problem is beyond my capacity to control or handle on my own.” It’s especially hard on a man. He won’t even stop to ask for directions when he’s lost. But God views that kind of humility and weakness and dependence as a strength, and in fact He intentionally resists the proud, high-minded, and strongly independent. God doesn’t think like a man. “Likewise you younger people, submit yourselves to your elders. Yes, all of you be submissive to one another, and be clothed with humility, for God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” (1 Peter 5:5)

3. Up to this point, I’d had no desperate desire to be free from this sin. Viewing pornography and grabbing the attention of women has been something I’ve not only enjoyed, but have come to rely upon. And I didn’t realize I had a serious problem until I got to the conference and considered the idea of never intentionally viewing porn or indulging in fantasy (to be defined here in a later post) again. Ever. When I thought about it, it scared me. It really scared me. The first time I encountered porn I was six years old, and I’ve used it as an escape and coping mechanism since I was eleven. So for almost my entire life I’ve had a love-hate relationship with it, and to go, “Hey, I’m a pastor’s kid and I’ve been a Bible teacher and I love God, but I’ve never been truly sorry about this behavior nor have I taken any real steps to change...”

It was disturbing.

* * * * *

All behavior is purposeful. Even dysfunctional, damaging behavior has an underlying cause. We don’t always understand the reasons why we do things, and most people don’t care to explore this stuff in their own hearts. But I’ve been asking myself hard questions (prompted by what I learned at Every Man’s Battle): What woundings do I have? What purpose have these hurtful, persistent patterns of behavior served in my life? What is it I’m getting from them? What are their roots?

One of the amazing things I’ve discovered is that, at their foundation, these sexual thoughts and behaviors aren’t about sex at all.

Flashpoint Truth, Part 1

One of the reasons the Every Man’s Battle seminar was so striking for me, I think, was that I’d become accustomed to two things in my thoughts and emotions: denial and blame.

Denial. Not so much a willful denial of my situations, but a subconscious escapist mentality where I thought “I’ll start dealing with that tomorrow.” But tomorrow always became another tomorrow.

And blame, which is just denial reaching out to bash someone else. It would seem crazy to people who know me, but it never occurred to me that I was using blame as an excuse to avoid personal change. I've blamed God, and I’ve been blaming my wife for years.

“It’s Jessica’s fault that I’m the way I am because she treated me so shittily in our first years of marriage...if my wife would be the person I need her to be, I wouldn’t struggle with all these damaging behaviors.” So on and so forth, ad infinitum, ad nauseum.

I’ve resisted change because I’ve thought, “Why should I change if Jessica’s not going to change? What about her?”

The day after I sent a letter to my former coworker stating that our contact (however limited) must cease, I was driving and praying. Even though I knew I’d done the right thing in sending the letter, I was on fire with anger.

“This is unfair,” I said to the Lord. “This is just not fair. You expect me to change and yet You don’t expect Jessica to change. I know how You are. I’ll go to this stupid conference and recognize a bunch of shit about myself and I’ll know You want me to change, but Jessica will remain the same so the problem won’t go away, will it? I’ll just end up being miserable forever. Everybody thinks she’s perfect and wonderful and I’m the only one knows what a pisser she is, how self-righteous and proud and judgmental. And she doesn’t have to change, but You’re forcing me.”

So like all manly men, I called my Mommy to whine about the situation. I was telling my mother about how Jessica didn’t want me to come home, didn’t want to speak to me, and wanted to separate unless I agreed to go to the Every Man’s Battle seminar. My mother listened, then started to defend me and my way of thinking.

To my surprise, I stopped her almost immediately and defended my wife's viewpoint. The words coming out of my mouth didn’t make any sense, but I said, “Mom, God doesn’t have to be fair. I have to change whether Jessica changes or not, whether my marriage is saved or not. I have to become a man of integrity and truth regardless of what anyone else around me does.” Then I reminded her of a passage from John 21, where Jesus is telling Peter (who publicly denied Jesus to save his own hide) how, sometime in the future, he’s going to be martyred:

Jesus said, “The truth is, when you were young, you were able to do as you liked and go wherever you wanted to. But when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and others will direct you and take you where you don't want to go." Jesus said this to let him know what kind of death he would die to glorify God. Then Jesus told him, "Follow me."

Peter turned around and saw the disciple Jesus loved [John] following them--the one who had leaned over to Jesus during supper and asked, "Lord, who among us will betray you?"

Peter asked Jesus, "What about him, Lord?"

Jesus replied, "If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You follow me."

It wasn’t fair, but it was what Jesus wanted for Peter, and it was a direct answer to Peter’s fear and cowardice in terms of monumental failure and saving himself from death during the flashpoint crisis of Jesus’ arrest, trial, and execution. God doesn’t have to be fair. He can expect something of me and not expect it of someone else, including my wife. He’s God.

In talking to my mother (keeping in mind that both of my parents made excuses for years to avoid change and defend themselves) I saw that the choice before me was to humble myself and submit to the workings of God in the situation even though it hurts and it’s not fair, or to persist in the old Hobbs patterns of self-preservation and self-love.

If my wife doesn’t change, what is that to me? The point of decision doesn't concern her; she's secondary. Jesus is primary. It may not be fair, but it's the path to freedom.

So I chose the path never traveled. Not by me, nor by any member of my family for generations.

First Steps

I finally have a purpose for this journal.

Here’s what I won’t be using it for. I won’t use it in some fabulous writing pursuit, or to impress anyone with my words or thoughts. In the past, writing has left me feeling empty because the mere expression of misery does not equate to satisfaction or fulfillment in life, no matter how creative or beautiful the form of expression. Man, have I been miserable. And it’s only just in the last few days that I’ve started to catch a small glimpse of why. In the past week God has enabled me to look back on my thirty years and for the first time see things I was unaware of in my experience, twisted things He wants to set straight in my life.

But I’ve recognized that writing and online journals have become just another self-distraction to me: something that holds me (and others) back from achieving eternal destiny. Which simply stated is this: to know God and spend my life loving Him, and to love others by pointing them to Him, too.

So in this little unknown part of the web, no fancy stuff. No frills. Just a guy on a search. I have the freedom of not caring what you think of me because I am not seeking the approval of man. (Or woman, thank God.)

This past weekend, I was more or less forced to attend an Every Man’s Battle seminar in Sterling, Virginia. The conference dealt with issues surrounding sexual purity from a Christian standpoint. The literal translation of Psalm 32:6 reads, “Let everyone who is godly pray to You in a time of finding out.” The conference was just that for me–a time of discovery. Agonizing discovery, like debriding a wound.

In facing some of the reality concerning my situation in the past several years (addiction to fantasy, pornography, compulsive masturbation, and extramarital affairs both emotional and physical) I came to realize three things, which will probably take me a long time to process.

1. I am a sex addict. I’ve used sexual thoughts and behavior the same way an alcoholic (like my late father) uses booze: to numb pain.

2. Related to and superceding that, I am not an honest, transparent person. Even in those few rare moments when I’ve told the truth to my wife or pastor, I usually had to be “cornered” first, I didn’t tell the complete truth, and I didn’t do so with the right motives. This is a critical issue because it’s a root cause of a lot of other problems, including number 1 above.

3. Where I had given up hope that these things could ever change, I now truly believe that God is able and willing to help me overcome these things so I can live differently. To some degree I’m like a fish who’s just learned God wants him to be an eagle: life in the murky depths is all I’ve ever known and any other life seems foreign and impossible. But I can look back on the past six months of my life and I know–-I know–-that God engineered the perfect circumstances (though very painful) to bring me to this place of “finding out.”

This will be the place where I record the process. Someday I’m going to look back on this period of my life and remember, “That’s the pit God brought me from.” And He didn’t do it because I deserved it or because I had to be made worthy or because I did everything right: He did it because He loves me and I’m His son.

“You are my Son; today I have become your Father.” (Acts 13:33)

Don't Try to Tell Me Prophets Don't Still Exist

These words were spoken to me on the evening of February 23, 2003. I was angry at my wife, and completely in love with another woman. No one knew about the affair but me, the other woman, and God. This message was given by a prophet named Dennis DeGrasse, and is reproduced verbatim...

Steve, I have the word of the Lord for you.

God says His call upon your life is a sure call, and it’s a true call. And God says He’s allowing you a time to adjust, a time for your family.

But God says you need to be careful and watch even your emotions and your feelings. He says you need to watch over these things because He’s got a call on your life, and because of that the enemy is going to attack you. He’s going to attack your soul, he’s going to attack your mind, he’s going to attack your emotions because he sees some of the weight and the glory that God has for you in your life. He’s going to do anything he can to cause you to stumble and fall. And God says be aware, son. Be aware because My call upon you is a sure call.

I’ve not changed My mind because of any circumstances, says the Lord. I’ve not changed My mind because of any circumstances, says the Lord. I have NOT changed My mind because of any circumstances! says the Lord.

And God says you need to go get back at it. You need to get yourself back in the harness. He says that’s where you’re the happiest, that’s where you’re fulfilled, and that’s where your sense of completeness is: not just in knowing God but in serving God, because He’s called you to it. It’s a lifetime call. It’s more than just a call, it’s your vocation. It’s more than a vocation, it’s who you are. You’re His man.

Bless you.

* * * * *

When I heard these words (especially the line that was repeated three times, and by the end was practically being shouted at me) I knew what they referred to because I had already been attacked. And I knew God knew what was going on, even if the prophet didn’t know the exact meaning of the words he was speaking.

The question I have now is, “What next, God?” I’m assuming He’s still not finished with me since He went to all this trouble to get me out here in the world by myself with no earthly friend or help or anyone to talk to, or even anyone who understands me or my experiences. And I’m trusting Him to help me swallow my pride and submit to this process, whatever it is.

That’s part of the frustration. I don’t even know what He’s trying to do. I’m sure “Make Steve writhe in agony” isn’t His prime focus here, even though that’s being accomplished remarkably well.

But what am I supposed to do now? Where’s this thing headed, God? I have to have some kind of vision or purpose or reason or I don’t think I’ll make it through this time.

Where there is no vision, the people perish. - Proverbs 29:18

Consumed By The Blow

In times past I would’ve been careful to try and keep Jessica from reading what is essentially my “diary,” (which is diarrhea and biography, together in writing at last). But the events of the past couple weeks--and my hope that our marriage is headed toward lasting change--makes me want to be more transparent.

It’s been 19 days since I last saw her or my children, and God has brought me to a place of extreme discomfort, a pinnacle of pain so to speak. But with a purpose.

It started when Jessica gave me an ultimatum: cut off all contact with a former coworker (with whom I’d engaged in an adulterous relationship) or face separation from my family.

* * * * *

I was talking to someone a few weeks ago about my life situation in general and he said, “Being a trucker is kind of like being in the military.” And I thought, “No, it’s more like doing time--especially when everything’s going to shit in your family and you can’t be home to deal with it.”

I’m now certain the trucking decision was and is God’s doing. It’s what had to be.

My parents were both ordained ministers. I grew up in church, but more important, I’ve had several very real encounters with God in my life. There have been times when the unseen has been just as real--more real--than people I talk to face-to-face and the tangible circumstances I observe around me.

Before the affair, I believed I was on my way to full-time ministry (though it wasn’t what I thought I wanted for my life). I’m a teacher of a Word of God. I spoke regularly in our church. I know the Bible, and I’ve walked through difficult times with true faith. I’ve seen God turn the most horrendous situations imaginable into things that work for good in the lives of those who love Him. I’ve seen Him provide answers to needs in unexpected and miraculous ways.

I’ve loved God since I was eight years old. I don’t just tolerate Him, or think He’s far off watching me fumble through existence: I know He’s active and that He cares for people. I’ve questioned Him, yes, and I’m still questioning Him. Sometimes I’ve been furious at Him. But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate that He goes to such trouble to reach out to belligerent, obtuse idiots like me.

Several nights ago (while considering my wife’s seemingly unfair demands) I faced the fact that the sense of emotional pain and isolation I’ve been feeling with was getting beyond my ability to cope. When that happens in a person’s life--when the brute force of circumstances becomes heavier than the capacity or resources to allay the pain--they start thinking about escape in the form of death. Death is the out, the end of the pain. Severe, sustained anguish can grind a soul down until the will to live is gone and all you can think about is making it stop.

That’s where I was. I’d been giving serious thought to ending my life. Sometimes I’ve even felt a sense of urgency about it, like I needed to pull the truck over somewhere and do it fast--just get it over with. I know those thoughts don’t come from God, but the other night when I realized my wife and I were separating and all my worst fears coming true, the desire to paint it all black became very intense.

So I did what most people do as an absolute last resort when they’re standing on the edge of the precipice between this world and the next--in their misery uncertain whether they’ll fall or jump. I prayed. It was messy. I told God off at first, really let Him have it. I don’t think it made Him angry, though, because after I’d ranted and cussed a sense of calm came over me and I just said, “Jesus, help me. What am I supposed to do?”

Right away I had the sense that I needed to write one last letter to my very good friend and former lover--the one I used to work with, the one I loved--and tell her I never wanted to see her or hear from her again. This is what my wife has been asking me to do for a few weeks. This is the reason we’re separated right now. I haven’t worked with the girl for six months, but I had lunch with her once in December, I’ve talked to her on the phone a couple of times, and she was a regular reader of my other journal.

But when my wife asked me to cut off all communication with her, I resisted. For one thing, a dude doesn’t want his wife telling him what to do. It makes him feel like his balls are being hacked off.

Second, sometimes I feel that when Jessica is getting her needs met and thinks everything is wonderful she starts getting complacent about whether she’s listening to me or whether my needs are being met in our relationship. It’s sick, I know, but a part of me wanted her to be kept in limbo (which is where I’ve been for years) so she wouldn’t get comfortable and start ignoring me like happened in our first years of marriage.

And third, I went from seeing and talking to the other girl almost every day to talking to her maybe once a month. I’ve seen her once in six months. In my mind, it was ridiculous that I couldn’t be friendly with her and shoot the breeze every so often--it was no longer an affair but a leftover friendship, and a long, close one at that. So I dug in my heels at Jessica’s repeated demands, refusing to break contact with the other woman.

But at the thought of losing Jessica, I came to the end of myself. As I prayed, I knew God wanted me to do exactly what my wife was requiring of me. It didn’t come in words, really. Just a mental impression--not angry or demanding, but a very clear impression. And it was the polar opposite of what I really wanted to hear: “Do what your wife is asking.” (A similar situation to mine is described in Genesis 21. People never change.)

Resistance welled inside me. It was unfair, for one thing. In our first years of marriage Jessica treated me pretty shabbily, but I never twisted her arm to force her to change. The whole idea is abhorrent to my mind. It’s not love, it’s coercion.

And writing to the other girl would hurt me (because I’d have to admit I was wrong, both to her and to my wife) and hurt her (because she might not understand, and the idea of never talking to me again is hard on her, as it is me). Plus I was just plain scared of losing my relationship, however limited, with the last person I felt really knows and cares about me, someone my heart loves. I decided to sleep on it, and write the letter the next morning. That was around midnight.

I never have trouble sleeping. I’m one of those dudes hits the pillow and is zonked in five minutes. But I rolled in my sleeper berth for two hours, wide awake.

Shit, I thought. I guess He means right now.

I was pissed and railed at Him some more, but I made the decision. I grabbed my laptop and wrote the letter. In it I took full blame for the events of the past several years, confirmed my love and commitment to my wife (the opposite of what I really felt, but no less true), apologized for the pain I’d brought into her life, and stated without any ambiguity in the plainest terms that we would never call, write, email, or meet each other ever again. It was the end. Over and out. Finito.

For accountability purposes, I courtesy-copied it to my pastor, wife, and another lady from church who knows the situation. As my finger was about to click the Send tab, my objections to the whole idea surfaced again more forcefully. I hesitated. I felt afraid and torn. I was losing a piece of myself--a cherished thing. I was about to torch a beautiful bridge and watch it burn to charred cinders, and it would be forever impassable after that moment.

I wept as I clicked the Send key and slammed the laptop shut. It was three in the morning. I put my head on the pillow and went to sleep almost immediately.

* * * * *

The next morning, I reread the letter I’d sent and came to these words:

I’m at a point where God’s isolated me. I see it, and I know that it’s His doing and that He’s done it for a reason. I’ve lost every important relationship in my life. My Dad, you, Scott, a job where I could talk and relate to people, my internet acquaintances and journal, my church, and now my wife and children. I’m severed from all of it. No one is speaking to me. No one really seems to care that I'm alone and literally wishing I was dead. It’s just me and God, alone.

It’s the stroke of God I refer to sometimes, and it relates to a passage from Psalm 39. “Remove thy stroke away from me, for I am consumed by the blow of thy hand.” I’ve always looked at it as a reference to punishment and vengeance, but it’s not that at all. It’s grace.

People use the word “grace” so flippantly. And what they usually mean is that God will forgive all the stupid things you’ve done. And He will. But it’s so much more than that. Grace can take an almost violent form sometimes for those who’ve committed themselves to the Lord, because He takes our promises seriously. He can arrange the circumstances so you’re nearly forced between choosing the path that’s really best for your life, or keeling over from the misery of resisting His love.

I feel lighter, like a load I was never meant to shoulder on my own has been lifted. I’m joyful again. Not because everything is fixed and wonderful: my personal circumstances are as shitty as ever. There’s a long way to go and rebuilding to do and a lot of hard days ahead. And I’m still full of questions about why it all went down the way it did.

The difference is, I’m back where I belong. I can endure any hardship or sorrow if, at the end of the day, I know I can lie down secure in the promise that there’s meaning behind it all, that there’s a vision and purpose in this life. I finally gave in and stopped resisting. I’m home again, and He did what He had to do to make it happen.

God is speaking. He was speaking all along, really, but I was like a little boy pretending not to hear. I had to be reduced to absolute solitude and removed from anyone and anything I might run to for comfort or help. Think Jonah in the belly of a whale, except for me the whale is a white 18-wheeler that has the blue-and-gold lightning bolt “S” logo of the Swift Transportation Corporation on the side.

That’s what grace looks like as revealed in the life of one Gen-Xer: angry, questioning, cynical, alone. But not really alone.

Know Thyself

I guess my wife and I have separated for the time being, though to imply separation in the traditional sense would be absurd. I’m a trucker for God’s sake. I’m separated from my family twelve days out of fourteen. But before I see them again six weeks will have passed. It’s looking like the first weekend in June before I’ll be back in Delaware unless I’m routed there with a load of freight. Which is unlikely.

I informed Jessica of my plan to spend my home time in North Carolina this weekend. I even invited her to bring the kids and join me. But she says she “needs a break,” whatever that means. (We’re taking a “break” eighty-seven percent of the time.) She wanted me to come home and spend time with the kids by myself, but I know my limitations in some ways. I know I’d be no good to them as a father right now because I’m absorbed in my own anguish. I can’t even think.

Of greater concern is that I’ve had two events in my life–-both in the past four years or so–-where I completely lost control of my temper when Jessica wouldn't let an issue rest.

Heh. Saying I lost my temper is an understatement that borders on comedy. I became the clash of two fronts. I bit my lip and clenched my fists, trying to suppress a boiling point. But I couldn’t.

I destroyed our bedroom during the first event. I mean I fucked it over good, left gaping fist-holes in the walls, spilled the bookshelf, overturned the bed, threw lamps and vacuum and DVDs and family pictures until I was too tired to go on and collapsed in a shaking heap on top of the shattered mess, crying and bleeding quietly for a long time before I managed to call a friend and asked him to come over and keep me from killing myself.

The second event was worse because it was, plainly stated, a crime: I smashed out the windshield of my wife’s car. (I’m paying for the car, but nevertheless.) She was in it at the time. I didn’t actually hit her but it could’ve happened. And if I had I’d probably have killed her and would be sitting in prison in Smyrna, Delaware, trying to fend off a horny cellmate.

No one else in my life has managed to get such an interesting reaction out of me. Sometimes I'm just a straight bitch.

I remind myself of Posey in the movie “The Dirty Dozen,” where these thieves and murderers and rapists serving life sentences are pulled out of military prisons and told they can join a crack special forces outfit. The pro is, if they survive and accomplish the mission they’re being trained for, they’ll be pardoned for their previous crimes. The con is it’s a suicide mission and it’s doubtful any of them'll live through it. Posey’s the largest, strongest guy in the group. He’s sedate, soft-spoken, mannerly, and just a really nice dude with an easy-going boyish charm.

But he hates being pushed. When someone physically pushes him, he gets murderous. He’ll warn them for awhile: “Stop pushing me...I don’t like being pushed I tell you...don’t, please...stop doing that.” But if they don’t quit, out comes a Ka-bar. Or he puts a fist into their nasal cavity, driving a wedge of skull up into their brains.

Posey had a problem with rage, and I understand it. Unhinged, unchanneled, unholy anger. It's blinding. You stand outside yourself, shocked, watching yourself do things you can’t believe, things you never thought possible. But you can’t stop yourself from doing them–-you’re all impulse and reflex. It’s like living a nightmare. And once rationality returns you think, “My God...I cannot believe what just happened.” Push me enough after I’ve warned you to stop and you can wear me down. Eventually I’ll crack. That’s what I’ve learned about myself.

And that’s why I’m avoiding going home this weekend. Because I don’t trust her not to push, and I don’t trust myself not to work the room over again. I saw those kinds of scenes between my parents all the time as a kid. I don’t want my children to see us arguing and me playing the fool. One of my personal quests is to find a way to keep this shit from embedding itself in the next generation of Hobbses.

Coming to know yourself--in a real sense removed from vague, quasi-religious, humanistic hippy spew--is the most harsh and depressing thing that can happen to a person. Don’t try to know yourself. You don’t want to know yourself. You don’t want to discover the things you’re capable of in the proper environment, when the right buttons are pushed. Oh, you think you’re not capable of them because you’re American or you’re a Christian or you’re a Republican or Democrat. You're just too good and enlightened and brilliant. But human history disagrees. Violently.

People never change. Someone left a comment in my now-defunct journal on another site. It’s a common phrase you hear all the time, the creed of the milk-toast masses. It's also a lie straight from hell: “You deserve better.”

No I don’t. No I fucking don’t. And neither do you. We deserve worse, much worse. The only truly good news I’ve heard in this life is that God doesn’t give us what we deserve.

Don't Tread On Me

My wife and I are going through some difficult times, or at least I am, and for the time being I don’t really want her reading anything I write. She’s been so bitterly critical of the content of my writing in the past couple years that some things I’d write for my own benefit would cause her such frenzied anger and insecurity I’d be punished with pouty silence and abstinence for days. As of this post, she hasn’t called to talk to me in four days while I’ve been on the road.

I’m thinking of having my dispatcher route me to North Carolina for my home time this weekend. I’ll miss seeing my kids but I think I need to kick back with my sister and brother and their spouses and shoot the breeze with Mom. I’m wound pretty tight right now: blood’s not getting to my head. There’s no clarity, man. Just shitloads of sizzling electric rage. If I went to Delaware this weekend Jessica’d start sermonizing and push my tottering self over the edge and I might do something regrettable.

She often accuses me of “hiding,” or trying to escape from the issues we share in life, but the truth is she’s the only person I hide from. She’s the only person who turns flipped flung shit when I write about drug use, or say “fuck,” or question God, or mention sex or love in anything but a Disney-esque tone. She’s actually been threatening people behind my back, warning them not to read my journal or she’ll be pissed and they’ll go to hell. It’s psychotic, but I’m trying to breathe deeply and be understanding and all that other draining stuff you have to do to make a relationship work.

Last time I was home, we were talking and I mentioned that if she was anyone but my wife I'd consider her a crazed paranoid stalker. She laughed, but she also admitted it was true. Scary, man. Weird scary shit. In her perception everything I do and say in life comes back as connected to her, related to her somehow. I guess that’s normal for women. Self-absorbed bints. There’s no rational communication with them at all.

Me: “I’m hungry...think I’ll go make a sandwich.”

Her: “What’re you saying? That I’m the reason you had an affair?”

I try to respect her viewpoints. A lot of her hostility is understandable. Shit, I couldn’t put up with me if I was in her shoes. She’s right to be insecure and untrusting of me, because I’m not trustworthy. I’ve proven that. I don’t trust myself.

But trying to stamp the writing out or take editorial control is going too far. Writing pre-dates her in my life. I started journaling when my parents separated. I was fifteen. I used pen and paper to extricate the agony. It’s helpful to me. I can’t stop just because it makes her uncomfortable.

And even though I don’t want her reading for awhile, I’m not really doing anything clever or subversive to hide this stuff. I don’t like feeling forced into secrecy. That shit’s no good, boy. I’m not doing it anymore; I’m trying to be transparent.

Fact is the more she knows me, the less she likes what she sees. We’re at a crossroads in our relationship, and I’m not sure which way the pendulum’s going to swing.

If history’s an indicator, it’s going to slit my head open either way.

I am a Man of Constant Sorrow

I am a man of constant sorrow
I've seen trouble all my day.
I bid farewell to old Kentucky
The place where I was born and raised.

For six long years I've been in trouble
No pleasures here on earth I found
For in this world I'm bound to ramble
I have no friends to help me now.

It's fare thee well my old lover
I never expect to see you again
For I'm bound to ride that northern railroad
Perhaps I'll die upon this train.

You can bury me in some deep valley
For many years where I may lay
Then you may learn to love another
While I am sleeping in my grave.

Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger
My face you'll never see no more.
But there is one promise that is given
I'll meet you on God's golden shore.

-- The Soggy Bottom Boys