Chapter 21: Are We There Yet? (Lessons Learned From My First Year As A Christian

         Good morning!
         I hope that the new year is going as well for you as it is for me. If not, I pray that whatever you’re going through will strengthen your faith and your love for the Lord, and that He will bring you out of it soon, if that’s His will. For me, He has used the ending of one year and the start of another to show me a few things. Looking back over the last year I realized that the Lord has been patiently trying to teach me a couple lessons that I finally realized upon in the last few days. In my last post I was focused on new year’s resolutions. What God pressed upon my heart in the last couple weeks was that, while the resolutions are a fine thing, there was something more important that I needed to see before heading into my second full year as a new child in Him.
            So let’s call this posting a sequel to chapter 20. In addition to all my other resolutions, here’s a few things that I’ve learned in my first full year as a new Christian.
 
         1.) The struggle is real.
        I knew going into this new life that there was going to be good days and bad days. I already had the most common New Testament verses memorized; you know, the ones from Romans, 1 & 2 Corinthians, Ephesians and Galatians, where the late, great Apostle Paul dispensed fatherly wisdom to the new believers scattered throughout the Greek and Roman Empires. And hey, if anyone knew a thing or two about the daily struggle of trying to live one’s life for Christ amidst the assault of the old flesh against the new Spirit, it would the one formerly called Saul, right? The guy that used to persecute and murder Christians?
     Turns out that there’s quite a bit of difference between knowledge and experience – which I also knew. I’m not that naïve. But, in truth, I really wasn’t prepared for the harsh, brutal reality of that difference. While last year was a truly phenomenal year for me in many blessed ways, it was also a very hard year in other, less pleasant, hard-to-talk-about ways. For one thing, I wasn’t prepared for the staying power of old, sinful habits. No matter how hard I strove to maintain daily Bible study and prayer – as well as develop new, spiritually healthy habits and routines – old temptations and vile sins clung to me like nasty barnacles on the underside of an aged whale.
          For the last six months or so, I have been caught in a cycle that the Israelites from the Old Testament would have recognized all too well. I gave into temptation, deliberately and willfully sinned, felt incredibly guilty afterwards, begged God for forgiveness, felt somewhat better for a day or two – or a week, if I was lucky – and then started it all over again as soon as the temptation returned. (This is also, incidentally, the same cycle that anyone who has suffered from any kind of addiction will recognize.) I wanted to do what was right. I wanted to obey God, I wanted to live by His commandments, and I craved His blessings. But, to paraphrase a slogan from that late, great decade known as the 80s, I just couldn’t say ‘no’.
           And, believe me, I did everything I was supposed to in order to ward off Satan and his minions. I filled my days and nights with work, church attendance and all its related activities, Bible study, prayer, and a newly invigorated social life centered around my new desire for physical fitness. I begged God every day to forgive me of my sin and to take away the temptation. And if His response for me was the same as the answer to Paul’s thrice repeated request in 2 Corinthians 12, then I pleaded with God for the strength and willpower to resist the desire to sin. But, as the weeks and months wore on, and as my internal war seemed to only intensify with each passing day, and as I started having more defeats than victories, I started to get discouraged. It didn’t seem like my daily prayer and Bible reading were doing any good. At the end of the night, arriving home after a sixteen-hour workday, I would collapse on the sofa, thoroughly exhausted, and reach for my MacBook. I only intended to pay a couple bills, maybe respond to one or two emails that had been patiently waiting in my inbox, and maybe browse Facebook for just a few minutes to catch up on everyone else’s day. I needed to be in bed soon, after all, for tomorrow was another busy day.
         But as soon as I flipped up the lid of my laptop, and even though I had long ago scrubbed all the browsers on all my electronics of old bookmarks, as well as set up parental blockers that were supposed to prevent me from even trying to access inappropriate sites, the smoldering embers of the old desire would flame back to life once more. The temptation would come roaring back with fresh fury, and all I wanted in that moment was to satisfy the lust of the flesh. It didn’t matter that my Bible was sitting open on the coffee table less than a foot away. It didn’t matter how long I closed my eyes and prayed. It was easier to just give in and ask for forgiveness later. (It also didn’t help that I had long ago memorized the addresses of the sites that had fed my addiction for almost twenty years. Like a drug addict shooting off a text to the number that’s been long ago erased from his phone, all I cared about in the heat of the moment was getting my fix.)
           I knew I was grieving the Holy Spirit. I knew I was disobeying God. He had responded to my plea for help that night in September 2020. He had saved me, transformed my life since then in so many beautiful, glorious ways, and this is how I showed my gratitude??? By constantly returning to my old sin like a dog to its vomit??? I felt sick afterwards every single time. I felt genuinely sorry, and, every time, I promised Him I would never do it again. But did I keep my promise? Did I keep that vow of celibacy that I had made several months earlier? Nope. Not a bit. Not even close.
            I was also starting to feel a tad resentful of God. Yes, He is just in demanding holiness and obedience from His children, and yes, He also promises in His word that He will help us conform to that standard through the power of the Holy Spirit. He has also promised, through the words of the Apostle Paul, that He will provide a way of escape from every temptation we face (1 Corinthians 10:13). But, while I acknowledged the truth of all of that, I was also getting very frustrated with three things. 1) I am a normal, healthy adult male with a basic need for physical intimacy, which God created in all of us when he created the institution of marriage in Genesis 2:23-24. 2) It’s not my fault that I was born with a sexual desire that was corrupted by my sin nature. I didn’t ask to be gay. That’s just the way I was born. 3) For over a year now, I have repeatedly asked – begged, pleaded, cajoled – God to either change my deviant desire into a “holy sexuality”, as Christopher Yuan so correctly puts it, or remove the desire altogether. Or, at the very least, take away the temptation, for goodness sake!
          Unfortunately, God has chosen to answer that plea with a “Not now” response. So, for the last several months, I have been caught between a rock, a hard place, and a pit of ever growing despair and dejection. I want to obey my Lord and Savior, but I also can’t ignore a basic physical need that everyone who’s in a Christian heterosexual marriage takes for granted on a regular or semi-regular basis. (I have also prayed for God to bring me a “help meet”, as He puts it in Genesis, but only if that, too, is His will. So far,  that’s a “No” from Him as well.) So, because of all this, I have been caught in a never ending loop of temptation, sin and forgiveness that was starting to feel, as 2021 came to a close, like a massive hamster wheel with my tired self just spinning in place while God patiently watches from outside the cage.
         The despair started to really get to me. But, like any addict worth his salt, I just ignored the problem. I figured as long as I stayed in the fight, as long as I was truly, genuinely sorry for my disobedience and asked for forgiveness, that God would keep His word and forgive me. (1 John 1:9, right?) I could start fresh every day. I could just ignore the tragic reality of the cycle in which I was currently trapped. All I needed to do was keep reading my Bible, stay in church, pray daily, and, eventually, this would all work itself out.
          And, for much of the latter half of 2021, that worked. But then something happened in the last week of December that forced me to finally confront the reality of my situation. I received a text on New Year’s Eve, as I was driving back to Las Vegas from southern Idaho where I had spent Christmas with my family. To make a long story short – as well as preserve the right to privacy of the person of whom the text was about – I won’t go into a lot of detail. Put simply, I was asked to assist in counseling someone else who was going through my same situation. He, too, is a Christian struggling with homosexuality. And, like me, he’s coming to grips with the reality that, in order to obey God, he must remain celibate for the rest of his life. Despite a natural desire for love and intimacy with another man, he must accept that that basic need may never be met. That’s a very lonely future, and, while I very badly wanted to tell this person that it would get easier, that various friendships with fellow believers in his local church and daily life would ease that loneliness somewhat, I knew I would be lying. The truth is, that particular type of loneliness never completely fades. At the end of the day, when all is said and done, I still come home to an empty house and I sleep alone in a queen-sized bed. Blessings such as romantic love, marriage and physical intimacy with another person are not meant for all of us, and that’s a hard, bitter pill to swallow.
          Which, of course, is what I explained to this individual seeking my help. But, when the conversation was over, I was left with a renewed sense of despair and loneliness. I felt like I hadn’t really helped him at all. How could I, really, when I’ve only just begun this new journey myself? Now, don’t get me wrong. I am truly thankful for the blessings that friendship ministry has brought me in the last several months. Devoting my free time to serving others has been far more rewarding than anything I did in my old life when all I cared about was living for myself. Being used by God to be a blessing to others through the simple act of friendship and helping out where needed is a ministry that I would be happy with for the rest of my life, if that’s all that God has planned for me. But, despite all that, I had begun to feel a new longing in the last few months for something deeper, something more than just friendship.
        All of that, combined with the despair and discouragement of the cycle of constant sin and forgiveness that I was trapped in finally just became too much to bear. On a Tuesday morning, after getting only four hours of sleep the night before due to my very busy work schedule, I texted my pastor. “I need to meet with you tomorrow before church, please. I need some counseling instead of our usual discipleship class.” His response was immediate: “Ok, brother.” I spent the rest of that day and all day Wednesday in nervous, anxious anticipation and dread. I wasn’t even sure why. Pastor knew all about my situation and my struggle with homosexuality. I wasn’t going to be confessing anything to him that I hadn’t already told him nine months ago, just a few weeks after we first met. In fact, I wasn’t even sure what I was going to tell him that evening. I didn’t quite understand myself what was going on with me. All I knew was that I was tired, frustrated, a little angry, a little lonely, discouraged, despairing, and…and what else? I didn’t know.
      What I did know was that I needed to talk to someone, and pastor was the best option available.
       After we sat down in his office, and after he opened our meeting with prayer, I did my best to explain what was going on with me. I wasn’t nearly as clear and concise and eloquent as I had hoped to be. I poured out everything I just typed out here, starting with that text I had received new year’s eve.  He listened, nodded in all the right places, and then, after I paused, he asked, simply and directly, “Brother, are you struggling with pornography?”
         I had a hard time meeting his gaze. “Yes,” I admitted quietly.
      He nodded, understanding, and I suddenly realized at that moment that that’s why I had been so anxious about this meeting. I was finally being completely honest with someone about my sin and my struggle. I had never before admitted aloud to anyone just how hard it had been in the last year to break that addiction. All of my conversations with pastor, friends and family over the last year regarding my struggle had mostly avoided this particular detail. And if I had mentioned it, I quickly skated past it, focusing instead on the issue of my sexuality. But, until that Wednesday night of last week, trying my best not to break down in tears in pastor’s office, I had never actually confessed aloud, face to face with another brother in Christ, “Yes, I have an addiction to pornography, and I’ve been begging God for His help in this, but I feel like He’s not listening.”
          “I feel like I’m failing God,” I said in a frustrated tone. “I’ve given into temptation at least a hundred time in the last year, and I promise Him every time I’m not going to do it again. And then I break that promise a week later.”
       “Neal,” pastor said quietly and patiently after I finished explaining all the efforts I’d made to erase old websites, bookmarks and downloaded content from all my electronics as well as the numerous times I had been on my knees, pleading with God to change my unnatural desire and give me the strength to walk a better life for Him, “Do you know what matters most to God?”
            I didn’t have an answer. All I could do was shake my head and give a mild shrug.
         “That you’re still in the fight.” He paused, and I had to blink back tears. “God loves you.” He reached for his Bible, and I knew exactly where he was going. As he read aloud 1 John 1:9, I silently mouthed the words. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”
          We talked for a little longer, and then it was time for mid-week service to start. I thanked pastor, and he said he hoped he had been of help. I assured him that, yes, he had been an immense help. And the truth was, I really did feel better, though I couldn’t say exactly why. I still can’t. But I can tell you I walked out of his office feeling a hundred pounds lighter. Over the next couple days, as I replayed our talk over and over in my mind, I came to a new realization.
            And that brings me to lesson number two.

          2.) The drowning man doesn’t keep silent.
             Going into this fight, I had promised myself two things. 1) I was NOT going to be that weak, immature Christian that is caught in a constant cycle of temptation, sin & forgiveness that so many others were caught in. 2) I would read my Bible daily, pray daily, and basically immerse myself in God’s word so that when temptation came along – as I was sure, and had been promised by God, it would – I would be ready to withstand the attack. While not victorious every time, would still be able to celebrate more victories than defeats.
         If I could insert a meme here of a man shaking his head sadly and closing his eyes I would do it. Except for daily Bible study and prayer, I failed spectacularly on both of those counts. I just couldn’t understand why God either wasn’t listening or was choosing to let me spin on the hamster wheel, getting more discouraged and disappointed in myself with each passing day, instead of having sympathy and cutting me some slack. I’ve only been His born again child for a year, for goodness’ sake! Give me a break, Lord!
        But, after walking out of church that Wednesday night, feeling a new peace and calm within, as well as feeling like a weight had been lifted from my tired shoulders, I kept mulling over my talk with pastor. Over the next couple days my mind remained preoccupied with trying to figure out why a one-hour conversation with a brother in Christ made a difference where a year of Bible study alone and prayer hadn’t seemed to have any effect on my battle with sin. The answer didn’t come all at once. But I did realize a couple things by the time I sat down that Saturday morning for my usual devotions and coffee.
           One, God was using my struggle with sin and temptation over the last year the same way a baby is given their regularly scheduled vaccinations throughout the first two or three years of their life. I absolutely hated those doctor visits. I remember bawling and screaming due to the gut wrenching agony and long lasting pain of those cursed needles. It felt like a medieval sword, long ago dulled by many battles, was being thrust into my upper arm and left there for hours on end. I absolutely dreaded those doctors’ appointments, and no amount of ice cream or other such treat afterwards could soothe the pain nor diminish the hatred I felt for my mother for forcing me to endure such hell. Even now, whenever I have to get my blood drawn for my quarterly doctors’ appointments due to my type 2 diabetes, I have look away, find my happy place, close my eyes, and focus on breathing in an effort to ward off dizziness and nausea. (This incidentally, is the primary reason I could never develop an illegal drug habit. Anything requiring the use of a needle was out of the question.)
       Of course, as an adult, I recognized the need for those vaccinations. They are essential to the health of a newborn, a way of building up and equipping the immature immune system so that, as an adult, the body is capable of fighting off infection. Without vaccinations, as well as exposure to other natural illnesses, our bodies would remain weak and prone to all kinds of infections and easily curable diseases. In the same manner, God was using my battle with sin and temptation to immunize me. Until September 17, 2020, I had been living as a slave to sin. I had been living only for myself, giving into every whim and desire, not caring for the consequences, and I had no reason to change. I satisfied my physical lust whenever it suited me, and I didn’t think anything was wrong with that.
      Now, as a baby Christian, I needed the first round of vaccinations. No, it wasn’t any fun. It hurt badly – still hurts, in fact. The temptation is still there, lurking in my flesh like the ghost of the former high still dwelling in the veins of a rehabilitated drug addict. God was trying to build up my immunity by purposely exposing me to temptation. Of course, like any other newborn Christian, I failed many times, miserably and spectacularly. But I stayed in the fight. I picked myself up, brushed off the dust, confessed my sin, asked for forgiveness, and then got back in the ring for another round. That’s the whole point of this cycle, making sure that I don’t give up, as well as slowly gaining the ability to fight the temptation rather than give in so easily.
          The second thing I realized was that hen someone is drowning, they don’t stay quiet, unless they’re unconscious. But if they’re awake, and they know they’re in trouble, they holler. They scream. They fight. They wave their arms and shout to anyone in hearing range, calling for help. God used my struggle this past year to show me that I needed to rely on more than just Bible reading and prayer. I wasn’t availing myself of a major resource that He had led me to ten months ago.
        For all of my adult life, and primarily because of the silent struggle I endured in my teen years regarding my sexuality, I have always lived – more on a subconscious level than consciously – by the mantra, “Every man is an island unto himself.” I left high school with a fierce sense of independence and determination to live life on my own terms and on my own, period. I might need some financial assistance here and there from my parents, mainly during my college years, but, aside from that, I have always prided myself on my ability to make my own living and my own way in the world. As I’ve said before, I was perfectly happy and content to march alone to the beat of my own drum, far away from any crowd. While all of that is fine and good, it can also be a HUGE liability and weakness.
           What I never consciously realized until just a couple years ago, was the size of the emotional castle I had built around myself during high school. It started out as a wall, but by the time I entered adulthood, my castle was tall, large and foreboding. It’s defenses were well manned too. I’ve never allowed anyone – friends or family – to ever get too close. I might have let a select few into the outer courtyard, but that’s as far as they were allowed. They didn’t need access to the main hall. Until the summer of 2020, I had never considered how damaging that way of thinking and living can be. As I celebrated my 42nd birthday, I started to realize just how lonely I was sitting my main hall at the long, large lonely table, eating by myself every day and night.
             After I was saved, God led me to Bible Baptist Church where I became part of a new family. For the last several months, I’ve been doing exactly what I did in my teen years – struggling alone. This time around, though, it wasn’t because I was afraid of being judged or condemned for something that wasn’t my fault. It was merely out of old habit. I was used to dealing with life on my own, and that’s always worked for me. But when God started changing me into that new creature that Paul described in 2 Corinthians 5:17, he started dismantling the castle. (Are you tired of this metaphor yet?) He had to get me to a point where I recognized I was in over my head and I needed help. For an introvert like me, it was very hard to sit down with someone – especially someone I had only known less than a year – and  confess aloud my addiction to pornography. It’s one thing to bare one’s soul on the internet like I do with this blog and quite another to do it face to face with a close friend or family member. There’s a specific kind of vulnerability that comes with that latter interaction, and that’s the important lesson that I think the Lord was trying to show me here. It was time for me to throw open the doors, lower my defenses, and start letting people inside my fortress. (That’s the last one. I promise.)
 
          3.) Patience, patience, patience.
             Philippians 1:6 says, “Being confident of this very thing, that He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” As with everything else in this new journey as a child of God, I had promised Him – and myself – that I wouldn’t be that kid: the one that annoys his parents on a long road trip by whining “Are we there yet?” every thirty seconds from the back seat of the minivan. I was familiar with that verse in Philippians from my childhood, and I looked it up once more after I was saved. I understood it perfectly fine, and I knew that sanctification – the process whereby God spiritually transforms His children as they grow and mature in the faith – was not going to happen overnight. I also knew that that process was not going to be an easy one. And yet, as with all the other stuff that I consciously knew going into this spiritual road trip, what did I end up doing?
           “Are we there yet?” “Are we there yet?” “God, are we there yet?”
       But unlike the exasperated, tired parent, God has instead patiently reminded me once again that it’s not the destination that matters – not yet, anyway. During our time on this earth it’s the journey that should matter most to His children. It’s these lessons that I’m learning along the way that will grow and strengthen my faith. The important one for this first year of my new life in Him was that I recognize – and avail myself of – the familial bond that I share with my brothers and sisters in Christ. I am not alone on this pilgrim’s progress, and, more often than not, God will use my family members to give me the help that I keep asking Him for.
          There’s a song by Amy Grant called “Overnight”, from her 2011 album “Somewhere Down The Road”. This is the chorus: “If it all just happened overnight/You wouldn’t know how much it means/If it all just happened overnight/You would never learn to believe in what you cannot see.” As with so much of her music, this one has stuck with me this last year as I constantly remind myself that sanctification and maturation in my new walk with God is not going to happen overnight. As much as I wish He would just reach down and magically change me instantly, I also know that that’s not who He is. He’s not a genie that grants every wish on my command. He’s my loving father who answered my call for help sixteen months ago, and now He works according to His own timing and will. I must learn to be patient and wait on Him. In the words of the prophet Isaiah, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” (40:31)

        4.) Don’t forget to look back every once in awhile, if only to see how far I’ve come.
        This, too, I’ve forgotten in the last couple months. The Lord reminded me this last week that I need to pause and look back to measure my progress over the last sixteen months. I even did this in my last post about the new year’s resolutions, but I didn’t really sit and contemplate just how far I’ve come in one year. When I stopped to really think about where I was at this time last year, I realized that I’ve come a lot farther than I thought. I was so caught up in the day to day struggle that I neglected to pause, poke my head up and take a look back to see where I started. That’s the only way to measure real progress. Satan wanted me lost in the weeds, distracted with the here and now, instead of keeping my focus on my Lord and Savior who is leading me. Taking the time for a brief interlude in order to confront the reality of my struggle with my addiction, reach out to a brother for help, and then looking back to add up the miles covered thus far has given me renewed strength. God also had to remind me that He is there, hand outstretched, to help me up after each failure or defeat – no matter how many times I stumble. As long as I accept His help, get back on the road, and keep following Him, I’ll be okay.
         There’s another song of Amy’s, that has been my theme for this first year. It’s from her 1985 album, “Unguarded”, and, while I love all her music, it’s the work from her early career that has been the most inspirational and relatable to me. I’ll leave you with this final anthem as I go off to start my day. God bless!
 
“Fight”
by Amy Grant, Dan Huff, Gary Chapman
 
You know some days I like me, some days I don't
Some days I try with passion, sometimes I won't.
I might just hold my guard up, and lock my heart up tight
But it's the door that's open letting in the light
There's a battle raging inside of me
It's a holy struggle, and it won't let go of me
 
No, no, no
I don't want to stop the fighting
Wo, wo, wo
I just want to live right
 
I used to sit and ponder if I'd be fine
If Jesus lived His own life and I lived mine
But love is such a magnet, it pulled me night and day
Until my needy heart just couldn't stay away
Life can drive you crazy or just about
But even when it's most frustrating, this kid's not walking out
 
No, no, no
I don't want to stop the fighting
Wo, wo, wo
Sure it's tough but I won't deny it
No, no, no
I don't want to waste my life hiding
Wo, wo, wo
I just want to live right
 
I've made up my mind now, I don't want to lose out
(Unguarded)
Beginning to see now, What the fight is about
(Unguarded heart)
I gotta stay open, keep defenses all down
(Unguarded)
Don't want to be hiding when the love comes round