An Independence Day Reflection

This Man of mine was a porn-addict.

It may not seem my story to tell, but he bears no shame in it - having brought it to the light to be exposed and expunged and used by God for good in his life. It has been years now, but he tells me that every day he gets further from it, I become more beautiful in his eyes. Though the trap of pornography is usually about deeper issues than lust - often covering deep feelings of failure or inadequacy - it still warps the vision and the mind and imprints comparisons in secret places where there should be none. But these days, when I feel that even my best features have morphed into unrecognizability, his eyes still light up for me, bringing comfort and connection for us both. He is a slave no longer.

In the perusing of these thoughts, it comes to me - I am an addict too.

I don't seek the clothes-less figures. I seek the human approval. I have enslaved myself to the lust of likes and comments and digital friends. I justify my desires - calling them relationships, keeping up with old friends, sharing my gifts. But Purity never has to be justified. I justify my use of the soft-core Book-of-Faces by rejecting the hard-core Interesting-Pins, knowing my limited self-control would be completely mastered there. But, I am still addicted. And in the same way as my Man, the true needs are deeper - my clicks and posts covering longings for value, purpose, and success. But the fallout is greater than just the time wasted and the artificial approval gained. As I scroll and read, I begin to compare without realizing: my family to hers, my talent to theirs, my flaws to her seeming perfections. And my own begin to suffer. I resent my inadequacies - my inability to make my life shine, my family to be the poster-picture, my gifts to garner attention and compensation. And I take it out on these precious ones that don't even realize they are being compared. This addiction has made me blind.

I need to quit. I need to be set free.

God has told me this before, and I have tried. Well, not really. I have made little efforts. Efforts to curb the worst, but keep the sin nevertheless. Never cold-turkey, all out turning away (the about-face required of true repentance), but a lip-service-only resolve for fewer minutes, less posts, more infrequent clicks. But the comparison remains. The blindness continues. The pain spreads. Only a major surgery will do - cutting the offending organism away - yes, there will be blood. But the healing comes more quickly than I imagine. His grace offers soul-freedom that my efforts alone cannot. The blindness gives way to sight, cloudy at first, but clearer each day. And my life seems more beautiful every day. The joy of what I already have brings a new light to the eyes. I can thrill at the sight of those-that-fill-the-house. The list of the gifts and grateful begins to grow again. I find I already begin to smile more readily.

It is Independence Day. The freedom of life and work and speech are celebrated with charred meat and tent-dwelling and rocket-fire. But I rejoice at liberty of a different sort. I celebrate the loss of mind-shackles and heart despots. I am free. Free to love and serve and work. Free to see what is, even the ugly-beautiful. And life, not perfect, but mine (as I am his - and His) is good.