[This letter is not for everyone. It’s for those who’re human, those struggling with their nature].
My dear Jil, I think I have some insight into how you feel, why you feel so dirty. Sometimes we sin so grievously we wonder if God can ever forgive us. You’ve crossed certain boundaries, boundaries you can’t disclose to anyone. These are not secrets we can share. And so we begin to look for a way out of ourselves, by ourselves in inner desperation. But there seems no way out. We’re trapped in ourselves, in our lusts and desires. We’re trapped in a shameful secret with a shameful secret. We feel so bad with ourselves, feel so dirty it’s much easier to accept the dirtiness, to be one with it. What’s the point, we ask! We’ll keep going back anyway. Better to accept the muck as who we are, give up in resignation. And so our sin subdues us. What with the regularity. It has unrelenting demands and hunger.
And for a season measured in days we go crazy, do crazy, don’t care – like we want to self-destruct. Our body becomes addicted to lust. We can’t pray. When we do it’s empty. Things don’t seem right. You know you’re doing terrible stuff but you don’t care at those moments. You just want gratification. You’ll deal with God and the remorse later. You know how you’ll feel afterwards but you’d rather go through with it. It’s like there are two you. There’s the you who’ll never have contemplated such abominable sins. Then there’s the other you, the one no one knows – the secret sinner with the secret sins. This liaison keeps pulling you down, emotionally. Your helplessness makes you depressed. And you hate yourself! You really don’t want to do those things anymore, but you keep going back to them, again and again. You can’t seem to stop, don’t have the power to stop.
After each session you feel so cheap, you’re tired of yourself. Your parents can’t imagine what their little girl has been up to. They have no idea! But there you are, doing those things over and over again. It’s now you but you find it hard to admit. You can’t accept it’s you because you believe it’s not really you. And yet you know it’s you. And it makes you cry. You feel weighed down, confused, angry with yourself. What are you becoming, you ask over and over again. Every time you meet this gentleman, your resistance breaks down. Something weakens you, no matter your earlier resolve. He’s not a terrible person. He’s a sinner like you, caught in the vortex of lusts and needs and desires. He’s a victim of his own circumstances and trials. Has intimacy needs, and you genuinely care for him. But it’s forbidden affection.
Yet your lusts somehow take over, like there’s a preset in your body. Every time he touches you your inhibitions melt, and there you go again, lost in lust. It’s been two abortions now. He himself is weighed down. Doesn’t want you going through that. It’s like a cycle. You try, you fail, you fall. Then that horrible remorse. Then things get okay. And then you fall again. That other nature – the good girl nature doesn’t want all this. It’s tormented. Yet you enjoy the sins. You spend time in alone moments ruminating through the video files with your imagination. That’s how you begin to cosy up with the sin after a “clean” period. You begin to taunt the problem again. You begin calling him. You don’t want to break off abruptly. You want his friendship but not the heavy stuff.
And there are those moments of loneliness… when you feel so alone, feel low and so lonely. You reach out to him, to an amelioration – someone you know who “knows” you. An “open” sinner. Someone you trust. There’s something indefinable between both of you. Sin pulls you together. It’s not that you want to have sex with him when you call him over. You just want some cuddle, some private affection. But you end up at second base. He seems to know just what you need, when. Seems to know when to put his arm around you. Your bodies know the routine. And things just seem to happen, despite your best intentions for clean relationship. You know you shouldn’t have him, but you want him. And so you go on, unreasoning, not caring. After it’s over you feel empty. Atmospheric circumstances just change, like there was never no need for what you just did.
And then comes that terrible remorse, that burden of guilt that makes you hate yourself afterwards. You feel so unworthy, feel lost, and sad. And you wonder about yourself, about who you truly are, but deny evidence. You know the relationship is wrong, terribly wrong. The story must not get out. You’ve become a camel, carrying on your back a sack of terrible secrets, very heavy. You’re afraid of discussing with your Pastor. How would he look at you afterwards? You fear condemnation. You’re afraid of being branded damaged, sub-filed into an ecclesiastical drawer of terrible sinners. When you take your fiancé to your Pastor in future, would he secretly wonder if the guy knows your past? Would he call and discourage him behind your back, or use subtle hints to warn him?
But at some point Jil, you’ll have to take control of your destiny. Pull the plug on this relationship. It’s not going to be easy but there are things we close our eyes and do in life. You need to compulsorily break the cycle, wean your body off the routine. It’s why I counsel people not to cross certain lines. Once crossed they can’t be uncrossed. The crossing opens you up, makes you amenable to things on the other side. And see what has happened. It’s opened you up to sleep with so many people; people you know don’t even love you. And your persistent need for comfort has kept up the tally. You were shocked at the number when you tallied. It’s opened you up to do really terrible stuff. I can’t even risk mentioning them in this letter. Must not get out. When you make a definitive decision you’ll feel clean, feel a newness of life. You’ll feel invigorated.
As for the burden of guilt, God is not like man. He truly forgives, wipes the slate clean. Just tell him you’re sorry. It’s our guilt that links our past sins into a heavy long chain. There’s no sin in your past once God forgives. That it lingers in your memory and you feel unforgiven doesn’t mean God hasn’t forgiven. If you ask God for forgiveness, believe he forgives, irrespective of feelings. God has integrity. He said he’ll forgive. Your feeling is not the determinant of God’s faithfulness. Even if you fall again, go back to God again. He never turns back sinners. And he loves those society condemns. Please write me again. I’m sure you know I won’t condemn you. Who am I?
Your mentor, LA
© Leke Alder | firstname.lastname@example.org