Temptation

         Who would have thought that it would have been triggered in church?  A woman in a short dress, showing cleavage that reminded me of that dirty video that had gotten me hooked since I was a teenager. Ten years since I'd given my life to Christ, at fifteen, and still this is a problem; Still this won't leave me be.

         I still remember the video. The woman meets a man on the street, and she beckons him.

         "Come on in," she says. "Your wife won't know. Don't you want to spend the night with me?"

         He agrees every time I watch it, and so do I. You get to the point where you feel like you start to know the people in the videos; people, actresses, tools, objects. All synonyms, in this case.

         When I got home from church, I threw the door open, rushed in,  and locked it. My roommate wouldn't be home from his vacation for days. The house was mine if I wanted it, and I did. But I'm past the stage of "I can't help it," even though I feel like I can't. It's still my fault. I know it's wrong.

         I walked in front of the computer. The words "Facebook" stared back at me. I had never logged off before church. Sometimes I'd get on Facebook and, instead of looking at porn, I'd just fantasize about the girls I was friends with by looking at their photos. Some of those pictures were pretty racy for a social media site. But if they're not really even naked, then maybe that's not as bad as watching something hardcore, right?

         But I knew the answer to that. Be holy as God is holy. But that left me with only two options. Do what I want and  watch the video, or do what I need and walk away. I'd been faced with this decision hundreds of times, even before I considered this an addiction, which it is. Being rushed with hormones, it's hard to ever imagine a time where I'd said no. Maybe it happened once or twice. After looking at the pornography, I'd always convince myself I could say 'no' next time. But I was a slave to it. This was my demon and my demon owned me.

         I grabbed the mouse and browsed friends' photos for a few moments. Perhaps treating pornography like it was just a leisurely activity would make it easier to do it. If it came just after doing something casual, like getting on Facebook, then it had to be normal.

         Even sitting at the computer, my stomach was bothering me. The stress caused from my internal conflict bothered me. I was torn between the choice I should make and the choice I knew I was going to make. But if I knew I was going to watch the video, then why not just watch the video? I guess I felt like I did have a choice, even if I never made the choice. But what if I did choose to walk away?

         I laughed a little to myself at that. I knew I wasn't going to walk away from the computer until this monster was fed.

         I got up from the computer and paced around my living room. I bit my nails as I contemplated what was happening. I recounted everything I knew. I know I shouldn't, but I know I will. I always do. I know that after it happens I'm going to convince myself that I will never do it again, until this all plays out again. I know that the only way to stop the cycle is to finally make a choice to walk away, and not do it. But I know I will do it.

         I hadn't eaten anything yet, but my stomach felt like I had committed gluttony and then ran a mile immediately after. I held my churning stomach and wiped a small drop of sweat from my forehead.

         "Why?" I said out loud, at first not knowing to whom I was even speaking. Then I realized I was speaking to God. Why what, though?

         "Why is this happening to me?"  I said, voice becoming shaky. Those on the outside view it as a choice, a sinful option that wicked people make to fulfill their fleshly desires. But those who struggle with lust know that it's more than that. It's a disease that infects every cell of your body; every part of your brain. You can't go a day without thinking about sex in some way, and the smallest trigger can set you off. It's not something you just say yes or no to. It's in your blood, and you just want it out.

         No answer.

         "Why am I going through this," I shouted. "Why can't I just say no?"

         I thought of Proverbs 19:3, a man's foolishness ruins his life, yet his heart rages against God. It's true that it was my choice to look at porn. No one technically forced me. But it felt like more than just a choice; an addiction; a need.

         So then that's it? I'm just on my own? Where's the help? The Bible says that God wouldn't let me tempted beyond what I'm able, but I've never been able to withstand it.

         I looked back at the computer, and my stomach churned again. Sweat fell from my forehead into my eyes, and I wiped it away, looking at my feel. My legs where shaking.

         I was weak, but angry.

         It's not fair. Every other teenager used to talk about porn like it was something normal. Even now, in my mid twenties, I still hear guys talking about it, like it's no big deal. How come for everyone else it's normal, but for me it's a sickness? To everyone else it's just a part of the day, but to me it's eating my very soul away. Everyone else gets to give in to temptation, have sex, watch porn, it doesn't matter to them. If I weren't a Christian, maybe it'd just be a hobby that I take part in, like reading or watching television. I could sleep with as many women as my evil little heart desired.

         But I am a Christian, and it is an addiction.

         A twenty five year old virgin; that's something people nowadays would scoff at. It's not like I couldn't have sex if I wanted to. In fact, I've met drunken college girls with the intention to have sex. This conscience of mine wouldn't let me, however. Was that a blessing or a curse? Maybe if I did it once then it wouldn't bother me anymore. Perhaps I can just have a taste of the fun everyone else gets to have. Maybe if I get drunk and wake up next to a pretty girl that's done it before I could feel accomplished in my foolish pride. Then I could be like the other guys. Even most of the Christians have done it.

         I always loathed the acts done by those people. Christians and non-Christians alike. How could they treat their bodies like that? How could they just have fun without disregard for God? The real reason, though, was jealousy. How come they get to watch porn, have sex with multiple people, and still live? This was a selfish question, I realized. God's justice shouldn't be based on my jealousy. Yet the question remains, how am I plagued with this desire, my conscience condemning me while others indulge and seem fine? I know I shouldn't worry about them, though. This is about me. I can't judge myself in comparison to others. God will unexpectedly destroy the wicked beyond repair, regardless of the acts of others. But am I destined to be wicked?

         "God," I said. "You told me it wouldn't be more than I can bear. But how come I can't stand it? How come I can't stop? Why won't you help me stop?"

         Did His promise apply to everyone but me? Maybe He thought I was just beyond help. My salvation must not matter anymore. I had messed up too much. Maybe my receptivity to His voice was just seared shut from all the years of obstinacy. I was going to hell, and I might as well face it. Sin sends you to hell, and I was constantly sinning with this sickness. There's just no way for me to fight it.

         My stomach interrupted my thoughts, and my chin got a shaky feeling. I rushed to the bathroom, bent over the toilet and threw up. Sweat was pouring off of my face, and I was probably dehydrated. Miguel had just cleaned the bathroom before he left on vacation, and here I was messing it up again. The toilet bowl was splattered with puke and what looked to me like blood. Was I really so stressed out about a simple decision that I was throwing up blood?

         I hate this bathroom. I was always alone in here, my thoughts to myself, and I often got carried away. Even the wallpaper reminded me of my failures and the feelings of guilt that came with them. I hate those feelings, and I hate this bathroom.

         My phone buzzed. I got a text.

         I stood up, lightheaded, washed my mouth out and got a drink. I was becoming dizzy, presumably from dehydration.

         I walked to the computer, where I had set my phone, and looked at the screensaver, a bloodied Christ on the cross, with the words "John 3:16" at His feet. I had originally put that screensaver up there in hopes of repelling my compulsion for porn, but it didn't stop me. I still wanted that video with the woman in the short dress.

         It was a group message.

         Norman, from church sent it to me and others in the young adults class.

         "Hey guys, Sam and I are having an impromptu Bible study. Quick! To Starbucks! Be there in twenty!" It read. "Don't forget your bibles," he joked, and put a smiley.

         He was so happy and carefree, like he didn't know what I was going through.  I never really liked Norman, though he gave me no real reason to dislike him. I guess we just never clicked. I thought it a little funny how his little smiley face was the only happy thing in this apartment.

         I looked at the screensaver again, and thought about bringing back Facebook to stop reminding myself of how much a failure to God I am. I didn't, though. Instead I just growled and groaned out loud from my frustrations. It was too much.  I had prayed, I fasted, reminded myself of the threat of hell; I even tried out a few accountability partners, and none of them worked. I still couldn't resist.

         "Just help me, God. Just give me the strength."

         I suppose I could just walk away and go to the Bible study, which would certainly get my mind off of the sex I wanted to have with the woman in the video. But that involved a choice to walk away from the computer, and that is the hard part.

         I looked at the keyboard then back down at the text. Could I live in a world where it's possible to say no to this demon that was pornography and lust and sex? Maybe one day that picture of Christ could remind me of the sacrifice for my sins like it was supposed to, instead of the failures in my life. But why couldn't that day be today? Dreams are dreams, and when you feel like they can come to fruition then it still never feels real.

         I thought about how depressing it was that most people dream of becoming a famous basketball player, or successful writer, and here I was wishing to get rid of this disease that infected my life; To make the choice to end this.

         I thought of going to the Bible study. Allen would be there. He was nice. We always joke around. We'd all talk about a story from the Bible, the lessons learned from it, and how we could apply it to our lives. We'd even pray for one another. Maybe I could ask them to pray for a personal issue.

         But I could still hear the woman from the video.

         "Come on in," she says, beckoning me.

         "Just once more," I can imagine her saying. "Don't you want to spend the night with me?"

         I ran my fingers through my short,  sweaty hair. What if I could say no to that question and drive to the Bible study? Would that change my life? Would that take power from these demons that tormented me? It all hinged on a question; a choice. I realized at that moment that God's gift to me was my ability to choose. I could choose to love Him, or I could choose to love my flesh. All the years of struggle came down to a simple question that repeated in my mind, as the lady with crimson lipstick said it once more in my mind.

         "Don't you want to spend the night with me?"

         I saw the screensaver. Blood flowed from the crown of thorns into His face, eyes gazing into my conflicted soul; my troubled heart.

         "No," I finally said to her, a smile crossing my face. I picked up my keys to meet Norman.

         "Today is a new day."