The Josiah Initiative: Confessions of a porn addict at CTS

The second of a four-part conversation regarding the church’s need for renewal

by an anonymous Calvin Theological Seminary student

Foreward and afterword by Jeffrey Vandermeer

This is the story of one of our own here at CTS, one of our friends in Christ who is learning what it means to live in a fallen and broken world — a fallen and broken world that includes pornography. Some of us may hear our own story; others may be utterly disgusted. Many of us will not know what to think; we may leave with more questions than answers. By way of introduction, I will open with a question: What does it mean to be agents of grace, to reach out in unconditional love, to a fallen person regardless of the sin — and as a fallen person, is grace enough for us? Please let this question guide your heart and your mind as you read, and then let it guide you hands as you discern how God may be calling you to join this ongoing conversation.

(Editor's note: The author's name has been withheld to protect their identity.)

I got myself into this. I was curious. That's how it began. Late nights and stressful days and a computer connected to the Internet in the night when everyone else was asleep. I suppose the mixture of natural adolescent loneliness combined with a curiosity about sexuality in general predisposed me some what. What started off with curiosity led to discovery. What I was doing made me feel good for a little while. But that was ultimately short lived. The guilt got to me. The guilt led me to hate myself and also to begin to believe that other people saw me as less than worthy of trust or love.

Let me get this straight, right of the hop: pornography is an addiction like any other. The vocabulary that describes drug addictions applies. “The more you have, the more you need and the less it does what you want it to do.”

Porn ended up owning and defining me. I told myself, “I can stop any time!” But many late nights, early mornings, and wasted days later I realized that I couldn't. My worst prolonged bout with pornography was during my first year of college. Free, fast Internet resulted in me falling asleep in class and missing meetings. Towards the end of that year was the first time I confessed to anyone. I mistakenly thought this would end it. Everyone I told was forgiving in a way, but not one person said, “That's sin” or “I'll help you try to stop.” Forgiveness is nothing without consequences. Care is nothing without action.

In the intervening years I have had some success and some failure. But I see now that I let my sin and weakness define me. I thought I reeked of it, I thought there was some way everyone could tell. I thought I was cursed. It got to the point where I felt that I couldn't trust my emotions or my attractions. I saw myself as twisted and only capable of hurting myself and others. As a result, I held back from truly loving and letting myself be loved. It's strange what pornography does to a brain. It simultaneously sensitized and desensitized me to the sexual in everyday life, but it also led into a desire for the more intense things, in directions further from reality. It skewed my perception of what sexuality really was.

There would be periods for up to three months where I wouldn't look, or feel I needed to look. It seemed to work in cycles. After a major bout I would be disgusted with the porn and myself and vow, “Never again.” But eventually it would always start with something small: a line of a poem or story, a picture in an ordinary magazine, a scene from a movie, a department store flier. Over the next month it would build until the next time that I was alone with the Internet. Above all reason and respect for property, I would give in and the cycle would be complete.

This whole experience is more recent than I'd like to admit and has plagued me even while I have been in seminary. Ridding myself of the temptation is impossible, like drug or alcohol addiction, it's always there, especially in times of stress and loneliness. Temptation mixed with curiosity and I would eventually wonder what websites had been updated and what pictures and stories would be new.

Having said all this, allow me a glimmer of hope. A major point in my healing process has been to discover that this is all a lie. I struggle with pornography, but that is not who I am. (Which, coincidently, is one good reason this is being written anonymously.) Realizing that this sin is not who I am has been a major victory, but I also know that this is something that I cannot fight alone. I am recovering from pornography addiction and I am doing my best to make sure that from now on it stays in the past. It is only with the help of God and those who keep me accountable that I will stay that way. I am ultimately hopeful that I will discover a place where righteousness and sexuality meet.

“To discover a place where righteousness and sexuality meet” ... think about that for a moment. The courage of my friend in Christ to speak out, knowing the stigma, knowing the cost to them if anyone found out who they are and why! To find the point where righteousness and sexuality meet!

In the next two weeks, think about how we could help this friend and others on this journey. Think about how we may be able to give grace. Think about what you might do if a good friend confided in you that they struggled with pornography.

The Josiah Initiative’s vision is “Equipping the Heart, Head, and Hands of the CTS community to find freedom from pornography." On Monday, December 18, come to our next article ready to write. In part three of this ongoing conversation, you are going to be asked to join in. You — the members of the CTS community — are going to be asked, "What can we do? What we can say? How can we give grace in a fallen and broken world?" Mark it on your calendar as a day that you helped launch the conversation on how we might attain freedom from porn.

Want to respond to this article? Send your letter to letters@kerux.org; see the guidelines for more information.