"If You, O Lord,
kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?
But with You there is forgiveness;
therefore You are feared."
Psalm 130:3-4, NIV
"You can never be too careful."
I do not and cannot remember when I first heard the above phrase. If pressed, I still do not think my memory could squeeze out the reason it was told me as a child. However, I can assuredly testify to the truth and the soundness of its message, especially in the case of the following episode in my life.
My sister's wedding came and went. It was a beautiful and blessed event but, unfortunately and unknown to my family, it left a sour taste in my mouth. So, it was not surprising when, a few days later, I had another bout of severe depression and could not think clearly. Wanting to numb the pain, I set caution aside and went back to reading romance novels -- having chosen to completely deny the deadly grip the world of fantasy had on me just two years prior. The more I devoured such literary smut, the more aware I became of an increasing desire within me to "experience" what I was reading.
Well, having grown up with two God-fearing parents who thoroughly imparted God's standard of pure conduct to me, I fully knew how unwise and dangerous pre-marital sex (of any kind) was for anyone. And, considering the fact that a Boy's Brigade counselor told me that I would never get married, my twisted and indulging mind grew sick thinking of the tormented life awaiting me. Not once did it enter my mind that I would not have had to battle with such thoughts had I guarded my mind and heart against the lure of romance novels.
One day, I took one of the novels I was reading to school and kept it on my desk, half hidden between folders and notebooks for easy access. Instead of paying attention to the tasks at hand, I would continue reading all the while being careful not to let teachers notice what I was doing.
I wish it was one of my teachers who did notice.
Well, that day at recess, I was approached by one of the boys who sat in the back of the classroom. In his eyes, there was a steely glint of pleasure and power that worried me. I braced myself for what was coming my way.
What he said next both shocked and intrigued me:
"I saw what you were doing in class and I know what you really want." He was both eyeing and sizing me up as a snake corners an unfortunate prey.
"What was I doing?" was my hesitant reply.
O, how I wish my tone had not betrayed the worry that suddenly came over me!
"There's no need to pretend," he continued. "You and I both know what I'm talking about. That stuff you're reading is for girls. I can bring you literature fit for the man you're dying to become."
I should have ended it all right then and there while it was still in my power to do so. However, far from being careful, I merely sat there and took the enticing bait. I listened to him and marveled at his promises. The word "literature" should have warned me of the illegitimacy of his claims since I never knew this classmate to be one who actually "read" anything. On the other hand, I was really interested in becoming a "real man" and, perhaps, that boy held the key to the secret which seemed to have bypassed me for far too long.
The next day, I did not bring a romance novel to school since I was promised "something better." When that came, I was neither prepared nor pleased. It was in the middle of a French Literature class that my classmate dumped an opened magazine on my desk. My eyes grew wide in disbelief as, before me, was laid a page full of images of a sexually explicit nature.
"This is no literature," I thought. "This is blatant pornography."
I quickly closed the magazine and promptly returned it to my classmate, being careful not to let our eyes meet. He and I never talked about it again. However, I wish I could have closed my mind as quickly as I did the magazine. I wish I could have shielded my eyes from seeing what I saw.
That single instance of porn viewing had an adverse effect on my heart. Far from lifting me up from the pit of depression, it helped further my descent into despair and dissatisfaction. I felt dirty, guilty, and lonely. I was both repulsed and enticed, a dichotomy that was truly disturbing to me. Everywhere I looked, my photographic memory would replace real-life sights and superimpose those indecent photos onto them. I was having trouble forgiving myself and could not fathom receiving God's forgiveness as I increasingly became more and more consumed by those images.
At night, when everyone else was asleep, I could freely and remorsefully weep over my sin -- chanting in my heart how I should have handled that unfortunate affair.
In the end, all the should-haves, could-haves, and would-haves in the world could not change my heart because they failed to meet one essential requirement -- I needed to surrender my secret to Christ. Sadly, I kept and nursed that awful secret until it led to deeper pitfalls . . .
Father, I no longer stand condemned because my whole sin is nailed to the cursed tree of Golgotha. I now stand amazed in the wake of complete forgiveness from the nail-scarred hands of Christ who took upon Himself my wretchedness. Thank You for guiding me to confess to You and to receive Your forgiveness fully even when it is hard to forgive myself. Lead me, O Holy Spirit, to be careful in all my dealings so that I may only do that which pleases and honors You. In the name of Jesus, I pray. Amen!
