This bit of fiction may upset, offend, anger, or embarrass some people. That is NOT my intention. I felt compelled to write this because I have seen people with good intentions and innocent motivations who have perhaps not clearly thought through the possible effects of their actions on others. So please read this in the spirit of love in which it was intended.
And lest you think what I’m writing here makes mountains out of molehills, I have run this story past a godly man whose opinion I value, and he says that I am definitely NOT overstating the problem. He wishes more women understood the issue that I’m discussing here. (For statistical confirmation, feel free to download this PDF.)
The characters in this story are fictional and are not based on any real individuals in particular.
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“TRUE COLORS”
“Pastor, I did it again.” The young man looked down at the chair, or at the carpet, or at his own fidgeting hands…anywhere but into the pastor’s eyes.
If only you knew how many young men, and older ones, have made the same admission in this office. Pastor Jenkins stifled a sigh, afraid it would be misunderstood.
“What was the trigger this time, Paul?” he asked the downcast 20-year-old.
“Aw, I don’t know. I just came home all tired and frustrated, and I needed to let off some steam, you know? And my wife…she’s just so busy with the baby that she doesn’t have time for me anymore. She crashed at 9:00 last night, and I wasn’t ready to sleep, and the phone just seemed to be calling to me.”
“So the next thing you knew, you were calling on it, right?”
“Yeah.” Paul’s fingers drummed an increasingly forceful beat on the end table. “It’s not my wife’s fault, I know that! I don’t blame her, but…” The young man’s agitation made it seem he might crawl out of his own skin. “…I’m a man, and a man has needs!”
“And Dial-a-Porn meets those needs?”
“Psshh! It’s sure better than anything I’m getting from my wife lately!” Emotion won out, and Paul jumped up to pace the room. “She would never understand what it does to me to hear those women describing their…their underclothes, their bodies…”
Pastor Jenkins waited quietly until Paul re-seated himself before answering him quietly. “Believe me, I understand all about these ‘needs’ you’ve mentioned…”
“I doubt it.” The words were muttered low, but not low enough to escape notice.
“Of course I do,” Jenkins replied. “I’m a man, too. And I’ve got four kids of my own, each of whom went through times when they required all of Lorraine’s energy. I know the frustration, and I know the needs. Godly men have no shortage of desires. They just fight to purify them. And it’s a lifelong, difficult struggle.” He leaned forward, trying to catch Paul’s eyes.
After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, Paul finally looked up to meet his gaze.
“I know,” the pastor continued, “that there are times in a man’s life when it seems that no need could possibly be greater. And I know that the only way to battle against Dial-a-Porn or any other such thing is not to try to pretend the need isn’t there. And it doesn’t do any good to try to tough it out on strength alone, either. You can’t beat porn unless you truly know and believe to the depths of your soul that the rewards of a close walk with God and a pure heart towards others far outweigh the temporary pleasures that your illicit activities can provide.”
The young man only snorted.
“I don’t expect you to believe those things wholeheartedly right now,” the pastor went on. “But if you want to have any hope of having a clear conscience toward God and your wife, you will need to set your sights on that goal. You need to pursue the kind of faith that is willing to go hungry for a while…not just because you’re supposed to, but because you need to start dealing with the deepest hunger of all. If you truly are a child of God…and I hope you examine your heart about that…”
Paul turned his face away.
“…if you truly are a child of God, then you have a deeper hunger, a deeper thirst that you may not even realize yet. It’s called ‘hunger and thirst for righteousness.’ Every time you splurge on porn, it’s like a malnourished man trying to feed himself on cotton candy. Yes, there’s some pleasure, some tiny relief, but you need protein! You need something substantial and nutritious. The hunger won’t be denied, but every time you get a little sugar rush from something else, you can ignore the deeper need for a while. And every time you indulge that way, you walk further away from the only One who can truly satisfy.”
He paused again until he could look into those hurting eyes once more. And this time, he saw an acknowledgment. “You do know about that deeper need, don’t you?”
Paul nodded. “Yes. I feel it.”
The session went on well, and it ended with both men on their knees before the Lord, praying for wisdom and faith to pursue their own hearts’ richest satisfaction in Him.
Pastor Jenkins went home a little bit before dinner time. Lorraine was busy cooking, and after a quick kiss she told him to relax for a few minutes. So he went to his computer and brought up his favorite social site. A lot of his church members used that site, and it was a good way for him to keep in touch with the details of their lives. He didn’t tend to post much himself, and people often seemed to forget that he was one of their designated “friends.” Or at least it seemed that they forgot, considering some of the things they posted there.
I’m glad they feel free to be themselves. I’d rather know the truth about who I’m ministering to. His very detail-oriented mind easily remembered the things he learned about each one. It enabled him to offer birthday and anniversary greetings, to respond quickly to prayer requests he might have missed, and to pray for some whose posts regularly revealed the hypocrisy of their Sunday demeanors. Lord, help them to know that they need You, and help me to love them toward You.
One of the first posts he saw was from the wife of the troubled young man he’d counseled today. She had put up some photos of their new baby and mentioned some things about exhaustion. Her husband’s words echoed in Jenkins’ ears. “She would never understand what it does to me to hear those women describing their underclothes, their bodies…”
He shook his head. No, she probably wouldn’t. Most women, especially women who grew up in good Christian homes like she did, have no idea just how vivid and visual a man’s imagination can be…especially on some subjects. And a lot of these women have no idea that their husbands come to see me, full of guilt because of the way they’ve abused those imaginations of theirs. A single glance at the wrong thing can take a man places his wife would never believe…or at least, if he’s a godly man, can set him up for another exhausting struggle against sin.
He sighed and let his eyes wander down the list of mostly inane posts that people had written. Most days he found himself shaking his head at the meaninglessness of so much of it, but today it was even worse. Lots of single-word posts were showing up without any context to explain their meaning.
Even Abigail posted something like that. His sixteen-year-old daughter had simply written, “black.”
“Dinner!” His wife’s voice called out from the kitchen.
He seated himself, thanked the Lord for the food, and started serving it up. “It looks great, Hon.”
“Thanks.”
He put an especially large portion of salad on Abigail’s plate, knowing how much she loved the green stuff. She worries too much about her figure.
“Hey, Abby,” he asked, “What’s with ‘black?’”
She paused as she took the plate from his hands. “Oh…it’s nothing. Just a dumb game that’s sweeping the website right now, that’s all.”
“Huh?” Lorraine searched both of their faces with a puzzled smile.
“It’s just a dumb game,” Abby repeated. “Pass the lowfat salad dressing, please.”
***
Saturday came and went, and Sunday found Jenkins at the church early for his usual private prayer time. But prayer time this morning wasn’t to be. A knock on the door revealed Paul standing there, looking rather upset.
“What’s wrong, Paul?” Jenkins gestured to a chair and closed the office door behind him.
“I…I’m not even sure I can worship here today, Pastor. I did really well after our prayer time the other day. I can’t understand why God would let such a stumbling block get thrown in front of me…”
“What happened?”
“I went on the social site today, and all the women were posting about colors, including my wife. ‘Black’ this, and ‘red’ that, and ‘white’ that…I didn’t know what it meant. Even my wife posted ‘beige.’ I asked her what it was about…”
Jenkins leaned forward. Whatever Abby’s “dumb game” was, he’s awfully upset about it.
“These women are posting the colors of their bras!” Paul blurted out. “My wife did it, too! It’s supposed to help breast cancer, though I can’t imagine how. All I know is, now I’m going to be seeing women here at church, and their bra color is going to pop into my mind! Don’t they know how many men…including me…have called women on the phone and paid them to tell us that sort of thing? Why do they think we would pay for it if it didn’t turn us on? Don’t they know how much of a struggle they’re going to cause godly men, and how far the ungodly men will take those images when they’re alone?”
“No, I think most of them have no idea at all,” Pastor Jenkins replied softly.
“There are some gorgeous women at this church, and I want to look at them as my sisters in Christ, but how can I do that when they’ve announced they wear a red bra? And every man I look at…I’m going to wonder if he saw my wife’s bra color…if he’s imagining…”
Pastor Jenkins had long since buried his face in his hands. Abby…How many boys and men at this church are going to have to fight not to imagine you in your “black?” How many at this church…at your school…won’t even bother fighting it?
“We need to pray, Paul. Pray like crazy. I saw those colors, too, but I didn’t know what they meant. I wish I still didn’t.” For the first time in his life, Jenkins wished he lacked his great ability to remember details. Lord, I know by your grace I can refuse those images, though it will be a struggle. But what about Paul and others like him who are struggling with pornography?
He began to pray aloud. “Lord, I don’t want to think of her that way…or her…or her…Please God, help me keep my mind pure towards my sisters in Christ, and towards those who don’t know you. Help me keep my mind faithful to my wife. And please, dear God, help Abby…she has no idea…”
Emotion choked off his voice.
Paul placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and the two men continued their prayers in silence.
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After some consideration, the author of this piece has decided not to remain anonymous any longer. Her name is Betsy Markman, and while she does occasionally write fiction and poetry, most of her writing is more devotional/theological in nature. Her blog — Just Another Clay Pot — can be found at www.justanotherclaypot.blogspot.com
Postscript by Barb:
This was originally written and posted for the ‘Touched by Cancer” Event posted on FaceBook
