I receive emails very regularly.  I had to share this conversation with all of you.

SHE

I came across your blog and I wanted to say thank you.

I became involved in the sex industry 7 years ago, working as a prostitute in a brothel known as the “Wildkat Ranch” in Mina Nevada. Nothing could have prepared me for the devastation it would reap upon me in the 1 1/2 years of working there… I met a girl picked up from a mental facility after her release, I worked with girls cleared to work because they hadn’t disclosed that they had been exposed to someone with genital herpes, I worked with women who had done nothing with their lives but bounce from brothel to brothel for 10 years… But this pales in comparison to the changes I saw in myself.

I lived in [removed] and would fly out to the brothel every month and a half to work for 3-4 weeks straight. During this time my schedule was from 12 noon-4am EVERYDAY (when clients were no longer supposed to be accepted, but let me tell you if they were the only one of the day, they would wake us up for the line up) Sometimes we would come out of the shower at 10 in the morning to find a man waiting for us to line up, and we had to pretend we wanted to be having sex again… These men that would come through, some were 400+ pound truck drivers, with penises that had smegma rimming them, we’d have to wash the penis during the “Dick Check” you know the part where we make sure they don’t have a current outbreak of something.. their bodies would smell from being on the road.. On one occasion I had my clitoris bit, I received a rectal tear, and my episiotomy from my last child was retorn.. Often the men would want to watch porn with us, or they would bring in porn magazines.. one man brought in pornography that could be classified as rape.. during this incident he slapped me and told me that I needed to act like I didn’t want it.. Another man tried to violently fist me.

They tell you at the Brothel that they are there to protect you, but on more than one occasion I screamed, and no one came- even though they have a speaker to the room where they make sure we aren’t asking for more money and not giving them half.. Out of it all, having to watch porn with the men was the worst though, because they would want to know what I liked, they would rub at my body or have me rub them off while they told me how they wished I was as pretty as her, or how they wished I was skinnier. They would make fun of my stretch marks and tell me that I should give them a refund.. The would tell me after I was done that they were going to try my friend and maybe she would be more like the girl in the video..

I would come home from this, and try to pretend that I was a better person because I didn’t need a loan for school now, or that I had a car I could use to drive my kids around.. But I am less of a person. I would have to continue the lies with my family, telling them the story that the brothel had me tell, that I was training for a new career in Real Estate and I was working for Jerry Dickerson the man that owned the brothel at the time.. They offered to write me a letter of reference if I ever needed one, and my tax statement looked normal to those who weren’t familiar with the location or industry.. but there were physical costs too. My vagina needs repair from the way it was stretched, it is nearly impossible for me to have a vaginal orgasm now, my anal tear took months to heal, but the worst is my brain. I gained weight from severe depression, had to be put on medication, and I saw any beauty that I had as a young women disappear before my eyes.

God is the only one that could fix that.. but it took A LONG TIME before I ever felt that God could want me back.

ME

[Removed Name],

I love you. I have never read an email message and responded with that before. But reading yours just filled me with emotion. God loves you, too. There’s nothing that you’ve ever done or possibly could do that would change that. The things you described are so opposite of what He wants for you, but they don’t take you away from Him.

SHE

Thank you for the response.. I’d stumbled upon a story about you on the Porn Harms website, which brought me to your blog. The segment you wrote about the girl in the fetal position sucking her thumb made me physically break down, because I understand that feeling. Knowing that this girl had been observed in that state, so vulnerable and broken… I was greatful to you for having given her a voice.

I shared my story with you because I feel that the more people like us that you have standing behind you, the more reasons you have to continue your work. I don’t think it is clearly understood the voracious control pornography has on the sex trade- many of the girls I worked with had prior experience working in pornography, whether it be magazines, videos or as cam girls- they wind up in the brothels because it is a lucrative form of self promotion to have formerly been in a pornographic video or spread OR because they have aged out of performance work. When I asked some of these girls why they didn’t move on and do something else, they would say things like, “this is all I really know how to do to make money, I’m good at this”. The saddest truth is that every girl will eventually try working outside of the brothel, I did it myself. As dangerous as it is to work within a brothel, it is 1000 times more dangerous to work within an escort agency and 10000 times more dangerous to work beneath a pimp. The only way the disease, physical abuse, robbery, sex trafficking and murder will stop is if the so-called “safer sex industry” dies. Girls like me, we cant explain the link, we can’t explain the death of our spirit and our loss of innocence, or the link between how we got from a photo spread to standing on a corner… It is people like you who give us a voice- for some reason the voice of a former prostitue is easy to tune out, but your voice seems loud enough to be heard. Thank you, Please don’t stop doing what you do.

ME

If you’d let me, I’d love to remove your name (for your privacy) and then post our conversation on my website and on my Facebook page. Let me know what you think about that.

SHE

Absolutely… if it helps even one person that would make what I’ve gone through seem worth it.

ME

And it will. 

Don Miller is in town.  When I surrendered my life to God in September 2006 and wanted something interesting to read, some of you recommended his books.  He has become one of my favorite authors of all time and has often inspired me, but the message he shared tonight affected me in ways that are indescribable.  God’s timing is perfect.

You see, while it’s been one of the most rewarding years of my life, it has also been one of the most heartbreaking, culminating just recently in one of the darkest moods I’ve ever encountered.  In fact, I’ve been actively seeking professional counseling to help deal with the emotional pain, heartbreak and general “funk” that has recently become my reality.

People can really suck sometimes.  They are capable of taking ones words and actions and twisting them until something breaks.  Humans are capable of making the very worst out of the very best of situations.  Some thrive on turning one’s fight against injustice back against the fighter.  I’ve discovered that it takes a stronger man than I to stand up against every attack.  I’ve allowed people to rob my joy, to steal my vision, to bring intense mental anguish.

But instead of focusing on that, let me back up and tell you this…

One day out of the blue, 3 or 4 years ago now, I received a phone call from Donald Miller.  To some of you that might seem pretty incredible, and today that would also seem incredible to me, but back when it happened I was right in the middle of a stretch of regular “incredible” encounters that would blow my mind today.  To be honest, it almost became expected on my part.  Why Don reached out to me, however, was because XXXChurch had told him my story, given him my number and let him know how much I loved his books.  We’ve since exchanged emails, text messages, and a phone call here and there over the years… not exactly “close friends”, but not strangers either.

If you’re a Donald Miller fan, you’ve undoubtedly heard of the Mentoring Project, which aims to mentor 1 million fatherless boys and to therefore reduce the number of prisons in this country by 15%.  This vision inspired me, but I didn’t feel as if I could work as a mentor due to my past as a pornographer.  In a few text messages, I voiced this opinion to Don.  His response was that I was full of crap: he didn’t feel my past would affect my ability to mentor teens, and in fact felt it had provided experiences that could be used to my advantage when dealing with people who needed someone “real” with whom to relate.  With that encouragement, I set out to start a local chapter of the Mentoring Project… but life led me in a slightly different direction.

An email exchange:

Donny Pauling to Donald Miller – Wed, Sep 22, 2010 at 8:08 AM
Didn’t end up starting an official chapter here in Redding, but I’ve been mentoring a handful of kids of both sexes. It’s been amazing. And you were right: my past as a porn producer has been a non-issue to their parents. In fact, it’s pretty much been a legitimizing force making me more human and causing them to be more inclined to open up.

- Donny -

Don’s response…

Donald Miller to Donny Pauling – Wed, Sep 22, 2010 at 11:25 AM
I LOVE this Donny. Awesome. I didn’t think it would be an issue, actually, and in terms of speaking into the reality of where we are all living, your past gives you a PhD. For sure. Great news.

Don

That was in September, but December rolled around and painful events began changing my world.  Life lost some of its color… colors that have faded even more in the months that’ve followed.  Circumstances cut deeply, and I  lost the desire to mentor anyone other than my two second-cousins whom I home-schooled.  I’ve found myself living from a place of cynicism, and my attitude has often been horrible.

Which is why tonight was amazing.

I’d like to share with you some thoughts inspired by having been involved in the lives of these kids, short as the time may have been.  In total, there were several teens of both sexes.  I’m not going to use their names:  any stories and/or random thoughts I am about to share could have been any one of them,  so if you’ve hung around me recently please don’t try to guess who I am talking about.

Because of our sin nature, even the best of men can be pigs.  Several of the girls I’ve met have been molested, often by family members who should be protecting them.  One girl was raped in her sleep in the third grade, only learning it had happened when her grandmother took her to the hospital the next morning because she noticed blood – 3rd grade seemed far too young to be starting a period.

Boys are not immune to abuse, some of it incomprehensibly bad, affecting one boy on such a deep level that he thought pulling out his own teeth would be a good way to show his mother that he was angry.  That same boy explained to me why he always seemed to be in trouble at school:  ”I want to always be the sweet guy I am around my mother, but everybody expects me to be someone else at school, so I live up to what they think I am.”

Living one’s life heavily influenced by what others think seems to be a common factor in the lives of these teens.  I have a problem with that: those “others” don’t deserve their opinions to be so important!

Many stories I’ve listened to this past year were equally heartbreaking.  I met every one of these kids because they were friends of my young cousins.  Let’s be real:  that fact scared the crap out of me.  In the past I’ve heard horrible things that happen to “those kids out there”, but when I witnessed it happening to those who are so close to my family – kids in whose homes my cousins have often slept over – my heart felt terror.  My gut reaction was to rescue my family, to take them as far away as possible from those who perpetrate such things.  But in my quest to do so, I was sometimes labeled “controlling,” even by adults who should know better.

Here’s a secret:
I’ll gladly wear that label if I can help keep those I love from making mistakes as teenagers that will negatively affect them for life.  Where some might see a “harmless” teenage decision, I see a pattern of behavior developing.  Compromising one’s values on the smallest matters, when done to fit in with peers who are making mistakes, can turn into a lifestyle of compromise and “going with the flow”.  If one’s lifetime goal is to live in a trailerpark surviving on government assistance, that might be okay.  But I want to inspire the kids I love to aim higher than that.

Tonight, Don Miller’s message focused on things he wanted to share with women (Saturday night will be aimed at men).  I sat there with a smile on my face as words escaped Don’s mouth that have also escaped my own, almost word for word, in conversations with my two young cousins and their friends.

Don spoke about a woman’s value.  About the importance of protecting that value and the uniqueness of it.  He spoke about not giving in to those around us… to stand out without judging others:  ”I respect your individuality, but I will not compromise my own values to fit in with you.”  He talked about how a woman making herself too “easy to get” reduces her value in a man’s eyes, because she hasn’t fought for herself – the more  something has to be fought for, the more valuable it is to the person who gets it. As an illustration, Don used a scientific study that indicates girls “hook up with” men they respect, while for guys it’s the exact opposite:  they hook up with girls they don’t respect and will never marry.  If it’s too easy for a man to get what he wants, he’ll just take it and then turn to someone he has to fight harder for, never respecting the person who put such a small price on her value.  And a person’s value is built by her decision making and the choices she makes in all matters, not just sexually.

This past year I’ve been telling teens the way I feel about things as simple as tattoos, piercings, and “fitting in”.  I’ve been emphasizing how important it is to always be fighting hard to stay pure and to remain true to what we know is right, deep inside.  My opinion is that even something as simple as getting a belly button piercing, when done because “my friends have one and I want to fit in”,  leads to a pattern of giving in that ends up ruining a person’s value.  ”It’s just a piercing” doesn’t fly with me: it’s not about the piercing, it’s about what is motivating it.  And just because parents say they are “okay with it”, doesn’t mean giving up and giving in is okay.  The fact that so many adults have given up on morals because they are tired of arguing with their children will not distract me from telling kids my thoughts on such things.  The kids listening to my thoughts definitely don’t have to do what I say, but if I sat idly by without saying something that might prevent mistakes from being made by those I care about… well, I just wouldn’t be happy with myself.

In recent weeks I’ve been given many labels by people who seem to have given up on life outside of the small box they’ve let themselves be put into.  Hearing Don repeat things I’ve told these kids, almost word for word, felt like validation.  It was as if God was standing there saying, “You did the right thing, regardless of what the naysayers believe.  Don’t wear the labels they apply to you.”

I needed to hear that.

To Any Parents Who Might Hold Offense Or Think I’ve Been “Controlling”:

I’m sorry you feel that way, and I apologize if that’s the way I’ve come across.  I’m a human who has made many mistakes in my life, and will make many more if I’m allowed to stay on this planet for any length of time.  I would like you to understand that my goal was to hold your kids to a higher standard, not to control them.  I’ve made a deal with every single teen who spends any time with me:  you can tell me absolutely anything without getting in trouble with me, because you get to make your own decisions.  But you need to respectfully listen to my opinions on the things we talk about.  Feel free to ignore what I’ve said to you, but always hear me out.  That’s the deal.

If you know me or have spoken with me at any length, you know the background of my family.  Many of my uncles and cousins have spent time in prison.  Many of them have given up on living any sort of decent life whatsoever.  The younger generations who hold so much promise usually end up falling into the same patterns and routines of the older.  Please understand that as adults, if you try to be the “cool parent” in order to avoid conflict, your kids are going to follow the same road as previous generations.  When I’m spending time with these bright-eyed, beautiful future adults, the thought of them ending up like most of my family… just simply disgusts me.  Because it is unnecessary, and all it takes to prevent that from happening is to be strong and say “that’s not a good idea”, even if doing so causes conflict.

As Don Miller said last night, “Every good story involves a LOT of conflict.  In every good movie you see, the protagonist wants something and has to overcome enormous difficulties to get it.”  What I want is for your kids to live a great story, breaking the cycle that has held the previous generations of their family in captivity.  Hate me for that if you must.  Maybe you don’t believe it’s possible for your kids to have better, but I won’t give up that hope.  I can’t.  It’d be too depressing to think their future includes some deadbeat husband, fatherless children, tattoos, piercings and welfare.  Puke.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes.  To be honest, if it wasn’t for my dad I’d probably be some tatted-up drug addict, in and out of jail all of my life.  That’s the heritage I inherited from most of the generations before me, and that’s what a lot of relatives my age have fallen into.  But from an early age, my dad always told me I was the smartest person he knew.  He often brought me to tears with his words: he rarely applied physical correction, but rather psychological correction.  The words he used would make me ashamed of the mistakes I made.  But those words were also effective:  I believed I was better than my circumstances.  I’ve taken the wrong path on many occasions, but my dad’s words resonate in my ears and keep my hope alive, no matter how dark the road I find myself upon.

My goal has always been to return that favor to your kids.  Seriously, that’s it:  I wanted them to believe they were better than their circumstances and to hold themselves to a higher standard.  Without that hope, they’ll perish.  In fact, that’s Biblical – right out of Proverbs 29:18 – “Where there is no vision, the people perish.”

If you’ve given up on hope for an amazing life, please don’t assume your children must do so also.  Please.  It’s not fair to them.  Please try to step back and look at their life from a bigger picture.  ”Harmless” things aren’t really that harmless in the long run.  Giving in to fit in is never good.  Please please please try to consider what is best for your kids, not what is most convenient for you.  Sometimes what’s best for our children is going to be difficult.  There will be conflict.  But the harder we, and they, have to fight to get beyond that conflict, the more valuable will be what we get as a result.

If you’ve listened to my story, I sometimes tell about the song that came on the radio right after I asked God to save my life. It was “When God Ran,” the Benny Hester version. It movingly takes the story of the prodigal son and personalizes it. Hearing that song just moments after surrendering my life to God was like a “welcome home” party for me.

For a few months now, I’ve been ostracized from one small branch on my family tree. It started as silly as this: a young member of our family posted a status update out of frustration at not being allowed to hang out with a friend who professes to be gay. Another family member, an adult, publicly chastised that family member in the comments area of the original post. Scriptures were used to back up this chastisement (albeit completely out of context). I was very annoyed by the way it all went down, because I cannot think of ANY POSSIBLE REASON for an adult to comment publicly on a child’s Facebook page, criticizing her for all her friends – and the world – to read. So… what did I do? Publicly and privately put in my own two cents. Perfect response, no? Of course not. But that’s what I did. When the mother of the adult I addressed was told about it, she and others in the family decided to stick up for the adult, rather than the child. I still fail to see the logic in that decision, but it is what it is.

The adult’s mother asked, “If someone were to tell your son he was wrong, how would YOU feel?”

Here’s how I feel about that question: If my son is wrong about something, it’s okay to tell him he is wrong. Coddling him provides no value. An incredibly important part of growing up comes from being corrected. Publicly admonishing him, however, would be different since he is a child. When he is an adult, I feel the rules will change – if he publicly humiliated another person, a public response would not be out of the question, and I would not hold onto offense.

Of course, I am open to the idea that I’m wrong about that.

But what I’d really like to say to this part of my family, which in subsequent conversations have let me know their opinions on how much God hates homosexuals, is that I’d love the opportunity to sit down and study the story of the prodigal son with them, as well as the story of his brother. It’s a beautiful story that was originally told by Jesus Himself:

The prodigal son left his father’s house to go out into the world and blow his inheritance. He was rebellious. He lived his life in a way that was a disgrace to the family name. He rolled in the mud with pigs, covered in crap. You couldn’t get much worse than this guy even if you tried. He hit rock bottom.

At that point he decided to try to head back to dad’s house, hoping for the life of a servant. He didn’t feel like he even deserved to be called a son anymore.

But what happened? His father welcomed him home, running to meet him. He had always been his father’s son. Nothing he did could ever change that. Dad threw one heckuva a party!

In the meantime, the prodigal’s brother was living in daddy’s house, feeling as if his good works entitled him to be called “son”. He couldn’t understand why there weren’t parties to celebrate his “goodness”. He found it very unfair that his poop covered brother, the one who had been such a disgrace and done so many bad things, was being made such a fuss about.

I once read a book that said something like, “One brother thought his sins prevented him from being called ‘son’ and separated him from his father’s love, while the other thought his good deeds entitled him to be called ‘son’ and justified his father’s love. Both were wrong. The father’s love just… IS.”

And you know, family and friends, that is very true. The father’s love is just… there. For everyone. It doesn’t have to be earned. Doing the “right” things doesn’t get it for you. Doing the “wrong” things doesn’t disqualify you from it.

I am a prodigal. And, while they may not realize it, I am quite aware of the things that were said about me when I was out living with the pigs by those same family members who ripped a teen for being unable to understand why she couldn’t associate with a gay friend… a friend who, just a few short years ago, lived as if she were part of the family. Circumstances and life choices have now excluded her, and how dare anyone go against that exclusion decision! Guess what? EXCLUSION NEVER WORKS. Did you get that? Read it again. Exclusion. does. not. work. It just causes bitterness to build. I realize this pattern of exclusion has been going on for quite some time, and I’ve personally experienced it too, but that cycle CAN be broken. It NEEDS to be broken. It is, in fact, keeping you from enjoying one raging party!

Instead of excluding, perhaps a better idea is to invite those who need the father’s love to a party in their honor. Forget making up all the reasons why that’s not a good idea. It doesn’t HAVE to make sense to you. The Father’s grace and love doesn’t make sense, and it isn’t “fair” because it is given to those who don’t deserve it. It is given freely. There are no qualifications to receive it. There is no sin big enough to separate the sinner from it. It is a gift. Sometimes you and I are privileged enough to be able to carry that gift and lay it at the feet of someone who needs to receive it. We can’t do that by exclusion. It is impossible to do so.

We don’t get to decide who gets this gift of grace. Lay the gift at the feet of even (gasp) the homosexual. Let the recipient decide whether to pick it up or not. And if the package can’t be delivered right away, let’s develop a better reputation than even FedEx by bringing it back for another attempted delivery, again and again and again.

Whaddaya say?

On February 6, 2011, I spoke at IgniteChurch.tv to open their latest series, on the topic of sex.  Located in the Bible Belt, Ignite has been getting a lot of feedback – some positive, a lot negative – regarding the banners they have been publicly displaying to advertise the series.  The opening lines of this video display some of that feedback.

I opened the series by sharing the story of what God has done in my life.  We go behind the scenes of porn to reveal how fake it really is, and discuss God’s grace and forgiveness, as well as how He can use all things for good, restoring broken lives.  If someone you know is addicted to porn, ask them to check out this video.  It just might change the way they see it.

Click To Play

For those who would prefer to download an audio file, here is a recent one from the Calvary Fellowship “Renew Your Mind” Men’s Conference:

click here to play it, or right click and download it

Last night I had an important conversation with someone who has lately been very much involved in the activities of my life. We had just ended a three-person meeting in which we were discussing matters that are quite vital to the well being of others. One of the members of our meeting had come to a conclusion that (in my opinion) was very wrong and very dangerous. When passing by the other person from this meeting on the way to my truck, I was told, “I love ______ and have to stand in support.” My response was, “Sometimes love means you have to tell someone they’re wrong.”

My friends, this is incredibly true… real love doesn’t sit by in support while the one you love makes a big mistake. Sometimes you have to make the tough decision to tell them they are making a mistake. Failure to do so is not love at all, its laziness. Yeah, the conversation you might have to have as a result will require work and may not be the most pleasant experience of your life, but love IS work.

Some of the advice I’ve treasured most these last 4 years came from people in my life who loved me enough to tell me when I was being an idiot. Without that advice I’d be lost at sea, holding on to driftwood, moments from drowning.

When I speak, I have a goal to open up everything I’ve got, pouring my heart out and giving away all emotional energy to the audience. At the end of the time I talk I’m almost always exhausted, but happy. My style isn’t to “preach” at people, but rather share the mistakes I’ve made and what I’ve learned from them. Each listener is free to eat the meat and spit out the bones: take what applies to them, toss what does not. I’m convinced this is what God wants me to do.

Prior to taking the stage, I have the same very simple prayer I pray: “Your words, God. Your words.” I want to share the things He wants me to share, and nothing more. I’ll never doubt the passage in scripture where we’re told He can use ALL things for good… because I see the truth in that passage every single time He gives me the opportunity to share what He’s done in my life. Not long ago, I produced a product that tore lives apart in numerous ways. Now, He uses those experiences to start processes that put marriages back together, free people from perversion, even bring people to the place where they surrender their lives to Him for the first time. It’s sometimes so overwhelming that I literally sit in my hotel room and cry joyfully afterwards. I look in the mirror and can’t understand why the face I see is one He’s chosen to use to do this. It’s very humbling.

I’m very blunt in what I say, and try to be “real”. This often results in people sharing things with me that they’ve likely never told anyone… or at most very few others. For example, in one church a man walked up afterwards and asked to talk a bit. He needed to know how to forgive himself. The conversation started with something like, “After hearing what you said this morning, I’ll bet you’ve heard everything.” I nodded my head affirmatively to encourage him to say what he needed to say. He proceeded to tell me things he’d done to animals. Inside I thought, “Well NOW I’ve heard everything… I guess I hadn’t before!” As I listened to his story, I learned he was deep in counseling and had come clean with his wife, who’d forgiven him. The major issue he faced was forgiving himself. To be honest, I didn’t much feel like talking to him. My stomach felt a little queasy, I was shocked and a little angry at the things he’d said. But I also had to remind myself that plenty of people feel the same way towards me when I share some of the things I’ve done. I kept praying silently in my mind while he spoke, asking God for words to give to this man. When the words come from HIM, I can tell by watching the face of the person I share them with – faces light up… that’s the best way I know how to describe it.

I reaffirmed a few things he’d told me: “You’ve asked God for forgiveness? You’ve been forgiven by your wife? You’ve been in counseling, and are continuing with that?” The first question is really the only one that mattered, yet each of them was answered with a ‘yes’, and I felt God wanted me to tell him this:

“God has given you an amazing present, gift wrapped with a beautiful bow on top of it. Inside the package is something called ‘grace’. If you can’t let go of this guilt it’s like you’re pushing God’s gift back at Him and telling Him you don’t like it… that it’s not good enough for you. Just accept his present, my friend.” The huge smile on his face let me know this is indeed what God wanted him to hear. The thing is, I also needed to hear those words, as I sometimes have problems forgiving myself, too.

Funny how God works like that.

One morning after speaking, a good looking teenage boy came up to talk to me. He was very real with me when he told me about his struggles with sex: “I don’t have a girlfriend, but lots of girls like me so I sleep around a lot. It’s fun, but I know it’s not God’s ideal for me. How do I stop?” As always, I mentally asked God what to share with him as he spoke. I could tell this kid was a bit on the aggressive side, and fist fights were probably something with which he was familiar.

I asked, “If you did have a girlfriend, I bet you’d be willing to fight for her, wouldn’t you?” His chest inflated, masculine posturing at its finest.

“Of course!” he grinned.

“Well, in fist fights wounds heal quickly. Black eyes go away. In a few days it’s not a big deal anymore, and nothing to brag about. But what if you could fight a REAL fight… one that IS worth bragging about? Let’s say it’s two years from now when God brings into your life the woman of your dreams. Right now, with all the sleeping around you’re doing, you don’t really have anything special to offer her, sexually. But what if you could walk up to her and tell her, ‘The last two years I’ve been fighting the hardest battle of my life for you, for the thought of you, and I didn’t know you yet’? Isn’t THAT a fight worth winning? Keeping yourself sexually pure for her is the way you fight.”

A smile spread across his face. I challenged him to fight a battle that would actually test his worth as a man… to see as God’s daughters the girls who were so easily ready to give him what wasn’t his to take, and to fight for them, too, even when they weren’t willing to fight for themselves. When a girl threw herself at him, he could truly be a Knight in Shining Armor if he turned the opportunity aside, reminding himself that she isn’t his… that God has someone special for him (and for her) if he’d just wait patiently. They say every man needs a battle, and his would be fought not just for himself, but for all the girls willing to sell out so cheaply for a bit of his attention. He got it.

I try to remind myself of similar things when I walk around. I try to make a habit of bouncing my eyes up to the face of a beautiful woman, and often repeat “not mine” in my head or even verbally. She’s not mine. God has her set aside. She’s not mine. She’s His little girl, and she needs me to fight for her by keeping my eyes where they should be. Her Daddy God is always watching, and I really don’t want Him catching me visually molesting her. Any animal is capable of giving in to lust. Be a man, Donny. Be a real man.

I remind myself of these things often, and each successful battle fought brings more strength for winning the war.

This post was inspired by the women and men who have honored me by sharing their struggles and/or the hurts they’ve been through. You help keep me accountable, a constant reminder that I have a purpose and calling to help the sexually broken in some small way. When your spouse chooses perversion over you, know God is there to help. He is a God of restoration. He’ll mend your broken heart if you’ll open it to Him. If you’re a person struggling with purity, know He’s there to help, and has a reason for asking us to remain pure. It’s likely not a positive thing for the relationship He has for us if our mind, or the mind of our significant other, is filled with past experiences. He’s not trying to take away our fun – it’s just that He loves us and simply knows how we’re wired and how we function best.

What a place to sit and read on the iPad! While a diver cleans the tank, the fish swim around as if all is normal.

Grace plus nothing… watch this:

Family Values: Grace from Neighborhood Church of Redding on Vimeo.