I'm angry. At myself. It's hard when you recognize sin comes from our own desires, so this is the fruit that has emerged from the seeds of evil I have planted. It's rough.
I'm so angry and broken. Angry at myself for returning to the very thing that shows a lack of trust and broken because I drink from the same source that leaves me unfulfilled. Repetition.
I've done a lot to be open and vulnerable, but I think I have a few buried thoughts that should come out into the open. Maybe it isn't for me but someone else. But hiding doesn't do much for healing. And revenge is nothing more than suicide.
I hate the fact I'm on dating apps. It's not how I want to meet my wife. Millions of people treated like meat in the grocery store as we just try to pick the best remaining option so we can be fulfilled. But is this even close to how it is supposed to be?
I hate how shallow I am. Although I argue faith is the key factor in choosing a wife my actions say otherwise. Will she show up my ex? Am I even attracted to her? Can I look at her for a lifetime?
Shallow. Like a kiddie pool. That's where my faith is now. Still thriving on breast milk. Not really growing.
I need community. Not people who will be my friend. Not people who are nice to me. Not people who will tell me what I want to hear. People that in love will slam me up against a wall to knock me out of my repetitive trance of self-righteousness. But people don't want to seem to want that. And it doesn't make sense.
Girls have been asking a lot lately why I won't take them out in public. You want to know why? Commitment. I can't commit anymore. Not after my last relationship. Not as I drowned myself with self-obsession over a girl that didn't truly love me. And I didn't truly love her. Because love is not idolatry. It's not worship of your partner. But that's what I did. In and out of counseling for months trying to change to better perform under her evaluation. Where did that get me? Thirty pounds lighter and in a hospital room suicidal because the phantom I was convinced existed was just a figment of my imagination. All that for someone I will never hear from again and who, I feel, could care less if I existed. Let not bitterness root in my broken soul, for from it sprouts vines that choke out life.
Girls want me to commit to them, but I can't even commit to God. 13. I was 13 when I started masturbating. I didn't even know what I was doing. I didn't know if it was right or wrong. I didn't even know what porn was and thought the first time I saw it was a mistake. All the things we fight against, and little did I know I was no different than a 13-year-old smoking a cigarette for the first time. We are talking about banning vaping? What about banning the thing that sends more people hell bound than anything else combined? Too much money in porn. It'll never happen. Wouldn't want to step on anybody wanting to explore their sexuality.
Postmodernism is not a thing. That's not an opinion. It's a fact. If anybody tells you to find your truth, they really mean find your truth as long as it doesn't go against their truth. I can't say homosexuality is a sin, even if it's my truth, because that's not very nice. I'm seen as a homophobe. But I got to be honest, I don't squeal when two men kiss on TV. But right I can't hit you with the Bible because I lack inclusion. But if I'm told Muslim ideals are equally justified I have to accept that. What happened to... You know what, no. That's the issue. We think we were built on Christian ideals when we slaughtered natives to take their land and had presidents who owned and raped human beings. It's not what happened. Is anyone willing to walk the narrow road anymore?
But who am I to throw stones? I throw one at you then you at me and we are both equally deserving. Who could throw the first stone? The One that could decides to forgive. And the more I think about it, the more I want to share that love, but the less qualified I feel.
I'm 24 now. I wonder if I will ever have victory over porn. I wonder if my desire to be loved will ever heal. But then I wonder why I want it so bad. Deep down it's so I can have confidence that when I die I will go to heaven. But that hope is a juxtaposition because there is no entry into heaven based on merit. Otherwise, Paul wouldn't have boasted in his weakness. That would have been foolish.
I'm at a transition. I don't love who I am and the people I have surrounded myself with because I have willingly stunted my growth to cultivate a false narrative better known as "self." Nevertheless, I feel like the forfeiture of my former life leads me down a path where I don't know where to go and where I will never be prepared to do things for God. Each day I lust, masturbate, watch porn, hook up with a girl, get on a dating site, cuss, lie, cheat, steal, or any other sin feels like one more instance that justifies pushing back on what I want to do because I haven't done what I needed to do.
When will I turn the corner? I think about it a lot. I say I don't want to be somewhere a lot more often than I make an effort not to be there. But if I am still in the kiddie pool, then I got to start taking my baby steps. I'm tired of relying on other kids validation to get me to move forward on a wrong path. I need those that have matured to admonish my self-righteousness that I might truly follow the Way.
Baby steps. Little baby steps. One verse. One prayer. One day. One hope.
God, I need you for 24 hours. Who is with me?