Naked and Not Ashamed

Things are starting to get heavy again at work. Won’t be long before all I’ll have time to do during the week is eat, sleep, and go the bathr...

...no, wait. I won’t even have time to do those things. I won’t have time to do anything but work, sweat and groan.

Anyway, a few small developments...

In terms of the purity struggle I’m doing a lot better than I was a year ago, in spite of a bad day now and then. I was telling Jessica awhile back that I might have several days in a month where I’m really tempted or can’t seem to stop thinking about Inscrutable Girl. But several days a month is better than every single day.

God can restore innocence and peace to a person’s mind. Not to say I’m naive or think I’ve arrived or anything, but I can often look at a pretty girl these days and not think something obscene. That's an improvement.

I’ve had some failures, some fits and starts in the process, but that’s normal. Even after we got SafeEyes and I knew Jessica could see all the websites I visit, I still found a few outlets (one being Journalspace) where I could feast my eyes. And it was only two weekends ago when I was alone in the house and thought, “If I could, I’d look at porn right now.”

But I’ve had victories, too. I have an opportunity nearly every day to go back to the old ways, to flirt with a girl who thinks I’m sexy, to pick up a porn magazine (most of which come with free DVDs now), or to call Inscrutable Girl. No one else would have a clue. But I would know, and God would know, and that’s just enough to make me miserable. I don’t want to go back to the agony I was in for so long. If I’m going to suffer, I want it to be for the right reasons. Not just because I’m an idiot.

A positive effect of the men’s meetings on Wednesday nights is that I have to lead them, and I know I couldn’t do that if I was toying around with all that glitters. I have to keep it real in God’s eyes, and in the eyes of those guys. We’ve been having some pretty productive discussions, though a couple of the guys are still “hiding.”

I had some email exchanges with Jonathan Daugherty, the guy from San Antonio who led the Every Man’s Battle conference I attended in Sterling, Virginia, last May. My pastor approached me one day and asked about what I thought of our having a “purity weekend”–-something we could invite guys from our church and other churches in the area to participate in. He showed me some material from some ministry, but I said, “I know someone who’d be great leading this thing,” and I told him about Jonathan. I emailed Jonathan and he said he’d love to be a part of it. I sent him the pastor’s contact info and he said he’d call this week. It’s still in the planning stages; I hope schedules work out. The Lord’s work through Jonathan’s message and ministry affected me quite powerfully–-changed my life, even. We’re talking about conducting this purity conference sometime in late September or October.

Us: from fig-leaved and ashamed, to naked and ashamed, to naked and NOT ashamed. That’s the journey. Transparency feels excellent.

When Porn Strikes...

Can it, Bildad

The men’s meeting last Wednesday was a beastly travesty.

A dude who’d never been there before showed up. As I tried to get the guys to talk about real-life stuff, this guy decided I needed a good straightening-out, and he spent about a half-hour in a frenzy, ranting at me personally (as if I was the only guy in the room with issues), pointing his finger and telling me to have faith and not give up, and that when I got to be his age (46) I’d be wise and wouldn’t have such struggles. He told me I don’t know my calling and purpose in life, and that’s why I’ve got problems. No one else around the table was able to get a word in during his speech, which was like a spinning top. I felt drained, dizzy, dry-mouthed and angry. I couldn’t wait to escape.

I listened patiently, but I wondered if he’d continue his spirit-filled tirade if I got up and went to the bathroom for awhile. Instead of testing the thing, I simply waited for him to take a breath so I could quickly dismiss the meeting.

It was a half-hour past the regular hour (9 P.M.) when that time came.

Essentially the guy railroaded the meeting and invalidated its stated purpose and function (which he’d never been there before to hear about).

Beyond that, several guys echoed his idea that they’re not going to share their hearts with others unless they feel “led” by the Holy Spirit. Well, touche. That’s one awesome cop-out for being a guarded asshole. Men love to share their strengths and victories while minimizing their faults and weaknesses.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do. The time I’m stealing to be at these meetings is at the cost of sleep: I got four hours that night before I had to be up on my feet and driving 53,000 pounds of freight on the busiest day of the Pepsi week. I had a headache all day Thursday: I felt hung over.

Frankly, if the meetings aren’t fulfilling their purpose, I’ll nix them. There are other options. I’m the type who’d be happy with talking to one or two guys interested in pursuing reality, rather than a group of guys who want to fold their arms and stay status quo.

The most satisfying conversation I had in the past week was with an atheist, a writer friend of mine. How am I supposed to get through life in church when I can only handle Christians for very short bursts of time before I’m going berserk with frustration and anger?

I’m writing this at the church in the hour before the men’s meeting occurs.

I’m in a lot of pain today. I’ve never found other words to express the state of sighing and sadness that comes over me some days except to say, “It hurts.”

It’s been one of those days. For one thing, things are tumultuous at work. I’ve had an icicle up my ass ever since two months ago when I realized Pepsi is a dead-end job. I’ve got a bad attitude and I’m sure it’s visible to those around me, including my supervisors. And that pisses me off because I don’t want to have a bad attitude. I want to believe in my heart what I know in my head: that I don’t work for some mad frenzied corporation driven to fits over lucre and mammon. That I work for God. That each day, my only aim should be to please Him, secure in knowing He’ll worry about tomorrow. But it’s hard.

Today they had the most negative guy in the whole company riding with me as a helper, which was draining. He kept telling stupid jokes and pointing out pretty girls and gossiping and complaining and making with tons of coarse sexual commentary. All of which I don’t need. I outright lied to someone about something minor because I didn’t want to have to deal with the corporate bullshit--I just wanted to get home. Plus another driver showed me a brief pornographic clip on his cell phone which, when I realized what it was, I quickly walked away from, cursing.

Cursing. That’s another thing. I have such an unclean mouth. I’ve lowered myself to the level of the mob. God’s definitely pointing it out to me, too. He wants purity to go beyond skin-deep: He wants my heart pure, holy, and innocent.

But it’s not. It’s just not.

Anytime I come to the church anymore I have a hard time because D lives so close. My nose is stuffed up and I’d like to go to Wal-Mart here in town and get some Sudafed but I’m afraid I’ll run into her, and that wouldn’t leave me feeling real super-stable just before I lead a men’s meeting. I’m so frustrated that I still think about her, that I miss her. It’s wearisome.

I’m frustrated with not knowing when and how everything will work out.

Tonight’s topic is about our identity in God, and how God uses our personal pain and weakness to display His strength in our lives. I’m all about His purpose.

Long Time, No Post

Six months since I posted anything to this account. Maybe I was waiting for some of the frenzied personal hype to die down before writing here again. I don't know.

I've been working hard for Pepsi, and am trying to break into some part-time freelancing. Jessica and I are doing pretty well, expecting our fourth child.

A few weeks ago, I wrote to Jon Daugherty and thanked him for the work of his ministry. I may try to interview him eventually for some query ideas I have.

I'm leading a men's group at church now.

And finally, I'm still struggling against thoughts of the girl I loved. Nearly every day, sometimes all day long, I'm slogging through, wondering if the hurt will ever leave. Yeah, to some extent it's diminished. But it's still here, and sometimes it's frighteningly powerful.

The last two times I left the church--just today, in fact--I saw her car drive by and had to wonder if that could possibly be a coincidence, that kind of perfect or hellish timing. Today while walking into WaWa to get a cup of coffee I thought I saw her sitting in a black SUV, eating a hot dog. It wasn't her, but I'm sure I made whoever it was quite nervous as I slowed down and eyed her through my black sunglasses.

I can't understand why these feelings are still so strong.

Nevertheless, feelings are inconsequential at this point. There's no going back. I have destiny to fulfill.

Monday's her birthday.