The Art of Breaking (part 3)

This post will probably make much more sense if you start with Part 1. These posts contain a lot of very frank, open, pointed revelation about my life. Feel free to skip them and just move on if all you want is a light read, a bit of inspiration, and/or don't want to be offended.

---

My spirit reaches up to you.
I want to praise you.
Sanctify me that I may
raise holy hands to you,
and dance before you.

Yes, let me dance to you.

Let my body be pleasing to you, Lord.

Let my spirit come into your presence.

Let my praise be sincere.

Accept my offering.

Breathe into me your song of love.

Copyright 2002, Jerry Hanel

(( Theme for this post seems to fit "Absolute", a song by Thousand Foot Krutch on their album "The Art of Breaking". The clips of text in the remainder of this post is from that song. ))

After God pulled me out of my "slow bleed", I wasn't ready to take on the world. I was a mess, to be honest. I didn't know what love was. All I knew was lust. God had to teach me love from the ground up.

I've tried to hide it, but I can't sleep at night
Everything I think about makes me feel like a version of myself
They tell their lies and we all synchronize
Look to the sky because it's almost over

We want the truth, give us the Absolute
We need your help, 'cause we've got nothing!

I got out of my hibernation mode, and tried to forge some relationships. The people I chose to relate with were probably not the best influences on me, but I was trying. My problem, as it almost always seems to be, was that *I* was trying. (Yeah, Cheryl... I'm realizing this.) I didn't let God direct me in choosing friends. I have always tried to do as much as I can on my own. I found that it is quite true when Christ said "Bad company corrupts good morals".

Two months after God confronted me in my room, I met a woman named Jenny. We were introduced through some mutual acquaintances. It turned out that I got a job at the college newspaper, where she was sports editor.

She felt, in many ways, the same way I did. We were both searching. I asked if she would like to go out with some friends to dinner. She took it as "a date". I was just trying to be friendly.

I could tell that she was upset all evening. We went back to the dorms, and talked until 4am. It was during this time that I could tell we were both searching. And she fulfilled a need for acceptance that I was looking for. I suppose I fulfilled a need for her, too... although I won't speak for her. It will be up to her to post what I fulfilled in her life, or not.

Wait 'til the bottle breaks, see how it all shakes
Who's gonna be around? Who's gonna hear the sound?
Wait 'til the smoke clears, who's gonna volunteer?
Stand if you're gonna stand, everybody's here
Take what you're gonna take, make what you want to make
Say what you're gonna say and break if you're gonna break.

I have to say what I'm "gonna say"... but I don't want to take up too much room in this post rehashing ten years of mundane details. There's much more to this story, so this part needs to be said, but doesn't need to be expounded. I'll sum it up to a simple statement. With my current needs met of acceptance, I slid back into my past behaviors. In that year and a half, we decided to put off marriage until she graduated, but we didn't put off sex. We lived in her little apartment, wile I maintained another apartment to keep my pristine porcelain mask up to those I knew.

I mistook her friendship for love, I let lust cloud my vision again and in a year and a half we were married. We both tried, at first, to express love. But neither of us knew how, really.

Through our marriage, God was showing me what Love was, and slowly replacing Lust with Love. I started out a mess, but all along God was slowly sculpting the lump of watered-down clay into something. It was a long process, but he began teaching me that the end result of who I was to become would be worth it.

I slowly started accepting the love God offered. I found it hard to accept the forgiveness, but the love I absorbed like a sponge. I had shunned anyone who loved me for so long. I had pushed them out of my life to guard my secrets.

At this point in my life I let two people in to see me for all I was, mistakes and all. God and Jenny. But each time God asked me to tell others what he'd done, I was hesitant. "God?! You can't be serious. That would mean I'd have to own up to what I used to be. People will still think I'm a horrible person." And with that, I'd back off from God again. And God let me. He is gentle and full of patience toward me.

Instead of punishing me for my lack of obedience, God continued to minister to me in the areas where I would let him in. He used my marriage to Jenny to teach me alot about being a husband, a leader, and a friend. But most importantly he was teaching me about being real. I continued, day-in and day-out, to maintain those masks. Inside, I wanted to do right, but I kept trying to do all of the right things without letting the true me shine. I still guarded those secrets. I am quickly discovering that you can't do both. You can't hold on to what you used to be for the sake of your reputation... and still serve God.

Don't talk if you aren't gonna tell me the truth
Don't tell me you know and you've got everything under control
We can't have it all, but we can break the fall
This time I'm letting go, 'cause I can't take it anymore.

Over the years, I found myself in Stillwater, Muskogee, then back to Tulsa, where I now live. And from church to church, I tried to find the Truth that grasped my heart so completely in 1993. The Truth was right there. It never moved and never waivered, but in order to grasp it I had to be real with who I had become. Again, I found that very difficult.

Finally, through a series of incredible circumstances, I landed at Agape Metro Church in Sand Springs where Bill Eubanks was pastor. Bill was an enigma. I couldn't put my finger on it but there was something very unique about him and how he pastored. He was an alcoholic before he came to Christ and he talked openly about how he struggled with life. There was something different in him. I wanted to know more.

He was real... a human. He was someone familliar with making mistakes and he could talk about them with you without flinching. Dispite what I thought, he didn't die on the spot when he opened himself up. He shared HIMSELF completely with his congregation and they loved him anyway. I had a hard time understanding this and I was drawn to learn how he could do that. Love. They loved absolutely and unconditionally. I finally got it! LOVE! That was the secret. Absolute, unconditional, "Agape" -- It is a greek word meaning just that very thing: Love, without strings, limits, boundaries or conditions.

Other churches where I had been a member LIKED me, but I didn't feel God's unconditional love. I decided to put down roots and really open up to the congregation. I told many of them my past details, and God began really opening the doors for me to know more about him. In 2000, I began learning more about that and digging in with my whole heart.

One Sunday he began speaking about "Returning to Holiness." In that series, inspired by the book by Gregory Frizzell, bits of light broke through the cracks in my masks... I couldn't wear the masks I had, and still profess Christ. It wasn't possible.

Wait 'til the bottle breaks, see how it all shakes
Who's gonna be around? Who's gonna hear the sound?
Wait 'til the smoke clears, who's gonna volunteer?
Stand if you're gonna stand, everybody's here
Take what you're gonna take, make what you want to make
Say what you're gonna say and break if you're gonna break

I had to say what I was going to say, or shut up. I had to claim Christ, or deny him flat out. Holiness demands no less than that. If I was going to wait to see who was around and evaluate my words for "appropriateness", then I was editing the Holy Spirit.

We want the truth...

If we want the truth, we have to be willing to hear it, in full. Even about our own lives... otherwise it isn't the truth, it's just a neat story. I want the truth in my life.

Give us the absolute...

We want to apply absolutes on other people's lives, without applying them to our own.

For three years, God really began teaching me more about what Unconditional Love was. Jenny fought hard on that topic. In the presence of shining light on my sin and rooting out the scars, it was exposing alot of her sins and scars and weaknesses. Her own past began to take its toll on her, mentally. In September of 2003 she decided to leave me. She was still chasing her past, but to say more is hers to do.

Was I hurt? Definitely. But I knew that God was in control. I cried. I held on to God for all I was worth, and I asked him to lead me through. And He did. In the same way, God is leading me through this. I know that by making my history "internationally public", some to want to put some space between themselves and "this pervert."

You are my light. You shine on me and reveal my sin...
Not to ridicule me or to harm me,
but to set me free.

In you I have all peace.
In your light I can be made new,
if I willingly confess my weaknesses to you.

Copyright 2002, Jerry Hanel

Some may think I'm that same person. But that's not what matters. I can't do what I need to do while wearing masks. Call me what you wish. The only way I've found to break the masks that hold our lives for ransom is to expose them for what they are, then move on. I share that person's DNA. I share the same physical body. But that person is dead.

We need your help, 'cause we've got nothing!

It is time I break the image that I've been trying to front. I thought I knew what God was trying to make me to be, and I've been fronting that image: a full-body mask, so to speak. But I'm admitting right here that without Christ, I am that pervert you've been reading about for so long. I'm nothing without Christ.

But with Christ, those molds and old styles of life are broken. Thus the title this whole time: The Art of Breaking. "And behold, all things are made new." You can refer to me as you want. You would be absolutely correct in your statement, too. I won't argue what I was. I won't deny the life I've lived. But with Christ, look at me now. As Bill loves to do, I Double-Dog-Dare you to look into my life as it is now. I'm not the same creature.

Look closely at what God has done. I can't take credit for this... this is nothing I could do on my own. All of my own efforts led me down dark paths of lust and wearing masks of hypocrisy, jealousy and fear. I tried for ten years to be something I'm not. To be perfect.

But salvation is letting Christ break those masks. Destroy them. And then we can be real. We can have things like Truth and Absolutes and Love. True Salvation comes when we have a face-to-face honest relationship with Christ... not a head-knowledge of facts about him.

Does God love me? Yes. That's a fact. Does he care about me? Yes. That's a fact. There are a million and one facts about how Christ views me. But until I take the time to build that relationship with him, they are just facts... nothing more. He wants to give us so much more life... abundant life, full of joy, not lonliness and pain.

How do I know? Because God is a loving God and has restored to me the life I so easily threw away for lust and lies.

In 2004, God brought to me a wife named Cheryl that has shown me nothing but unconditional love. She knows my past, and accepts me in spite of it. She knows I've been married and praises God that he has trained me up to be the husband she needs in her life. She has put herself and her will second to what God has called her to do... An act that I have to step up to if I am to lead the two of us as a husband.

So, I'm posting this story. It is God's will, not mine, that I am putting this out for the world to see. These posts aren't for me. I can't expect people to praise me for them. In fact, there will be people who choose to distance themselves from me because of these posts. And that's okay. God is in control, not them.

I've finally come to the end of this particular story. There's much more to Jerry than I could cover in three articles, but this is all I need to say for to get done what I must do.

My past is a mirror,
reflecting all of my blemishes and scars.
It is not who I am,
but a reflection of who I used to be.
It shows not what is to come,
thus it has no claim to my future.

You are my future, my light.
You have taken that mirror,
and dashed it against the stone.

The shards of my past lay at my feet.
And at last, I am free.

Copyright 2002, Jerry Hanel

What is it that you have to do now, you ask? That's a good question. When God tells me, you'll be the first to know. I don't know at this point, other than making these posts. But I have learned this much: If God is in control, and if I can remain real, it will be good.

God has led me through alot, and I praise him for it. Now to get up and do something about it. I'm finally ready to step out... to step out of my lies, my past, and my old broken skin. Right now I am to be God's art: The Art of Breaking.

Drop the ball, watch it fall far below
Suck you in, hold your breath
The undertow creeps in slow
Everyone owns a gun deep inside...

Are you ready to crawl out?
Are you ready to take my hand and see?
Are you ready to crawl out?
From within the slow bleed?...

I'll pick you up, won't let you fall
I'll build your trust and it won't hurt at all...

Stand if you're gonna stand, everybody's here
Take what you're gonna take, make what you want to make
Say what you're gonna say and break if you're gonna break.

This is the Art of Breaking.

The Art of Breaking (part 2)

This post will probably make much more sense if you start with Part 1. These posts contain a lot of very frank, open, pointed revelation about my life. Feel free to skip them and just move on if all you want is a light read, a bit of inspiration, and/or don't want to be offended.

---

By his stripes, I am healed.
All of the lies, he has removed.
All of the shame, he took for his own.
The images of my past, he took to his grave.
My future rose in him that morning,
when the stone rolled away.
In Him, I will live forever.

Copyright 2001, Jerry Hanel

(( The theme for this post is the song "The Art of Breaking" from the album of the same name, by Thousand Foot Krutch. The snipets of text in the remainder of this post are from that song. ))

I was living in a terrible mental state. But I had a routine for my day to keep my sanity. I would go to class, come back and hide in my dorm. Go for lunch. Come back and hide in the lounge and watch Ren and Stimpy while everyone else was in class. Hide in my room, to do homework. Go for supper. Go to evening classes, labs or meetings, depending on the day of the week. Hide in my room some more until it was time for bed... around 3am.

For three years, this was my life. But God had something better in store for me.

And every time I pass you on the street
You won't even turn and look at me
I never would of thought that things could
Go this far but please believe me...

Generally, I left my room unlocked unless I was gone to class. I was in and out so much that locking it each time would have taken me most of the day, in itself. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea. I was floor president, only because I volunteered for the position at the beginning at the semester, and no one else did. This meant that I was to handle disputes on the floor, and attend meetings about how to "improve residential life." Mostly, I just sat and nodded. I looked official that way without having to open up to anyone.

As part of that role, I had some items in my room like fliers and such. I left my room open as much as I could for the guys to step in and grab them, should they want to. I trusted them. Most of them I had known for a couple of years. I lived right next to the elevators, so they could swing by and pick them up as they went past to their own rooms.

One evening, I had borrowed a particular video from a guy on the 4th floor. Yes. One of those. But I didn't have a VCR to play it on, so I had a dilemma. I could borrow one from the dorms, or I could rent one from a local video store. My problem was that I had very little cash. And either way, I might have to tell people WHY I was renting it. I decided to borrow one from the residence halls. We could check out a VCR from the front desk if one was available with our student ID, so I put the tape safely on a shelf and hopped an elevator from the 8th floor down to the lobby. And God's grace began. He set a series of events in place to change my life. It was a simple series, but powerful.

I'll pick you up, won't let you fall
I'll build your trust and it won't hurt at all,
Your only drug will let you down,
I'm through now, so take me and blow me away

As I was checking out the VCR, the girl at the front desk asked, very politely, what I was watching tonight. I smiled. Like I was going to tell her, right? I said I was going to watch "The Hunt for Red October." It was a movie I hadn't yet seen. I still haven't now that I think about it. She told me it was good, but she wouldn't give away the ending.

I strolled back to the elevators, and one opened. Good. It was empty. I didn't need any more questions. I just wanted to get upstairs. "Hold the 'vator!" came a cry from the hallway. I didn't make a move to keep the doors open. Instead, a bicycle tire jammed in the closing doors. The doors opened again quickly and a smiling guy stepped in pushing his 10-speed. "Thanks. Hey! A VCR. What are ya going to watch?"

I couldn't believe the nerve of this guy. I wanted to say "No it's a toaster. But thanks for playing." But I refrained and smiled. I knew the guy from the 9th floor. He was their floor president. "I'm just going to kick back and relax." I fed him a few more lines about movies I didn't own. He smiled as the doors opened on my floor and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. My heart was racing. Five feet. That's how far it was from the elevator to my room. It should have taken me only three seconds to get into my room and lock the door.

I twisted the handle to my door and threw the weight of my body against the door. Nothing. Normally it would pop open, but not this time. It was locked. I bounced off with a wall-vibrating thud and nearly dropped the VCR. I was sure that everyone on the floor heard it. Funny... I didn't remember locking it, but I could have. My nosy next-door neighbor popped his head out of his room upon hearing the crash. He liked to invite himself along for dinner, movies, and anything else. He was as lonely as I was. But I chose to handle it by hibernating. He chose to handle it by attaching to anyone who would hold a conversation with him. Looking back I realize how much he was hurting, but I was so lost in my own life, I didn't see.

"You okay, Jerry? Oh... a VCR." (I was apparently talking to another rocket scientist.) "What are you going to watch? Want me to bring the popcorn over?" That was, in fact, the absolute LAST thing I wanted. Knowing that he abhorred the silly antics of the Three Stooges, I told him that I had rented ten Three Stooges videos for ten dollars at a local store. I was going to watch them back to back and just veg out in preparation for mid-terms. He grimaced and said "that's okay... Let me know if you change your mind and want to watch a movie."

I nodded, found my dorm key on my keyring, and let myself in.

Finally, I was safe in my dorm room. I locked the door to prevent any unscheduled interruptions, and began hooking up the VCR to my small black-and-white TV set. Once that was done, I plopped myself on the bed and reached for my dorm fridge to get a Pepsi. That's when I noticed it. My bible.

I was still a professing Christian, so owning a bible wasn't unusual. I still took it to church, so having it laying out on my desk wasn't unusual. But it was open. THAT was unusual.

I wondered which of the guys was curious about my bible, and what they were curious about. I began reading it where it was open to see if I could gain any clues. "I don't know this man." was the sentence that I saw. It was Peter's denial of Christ in the Jewish courtyard. I read the entire chapter, trying to see what the person may have been looking for, so I could know who it might have been. But the more I read, the more I could feel a voice speaking to me. Not an audible voice, but one so deep in your soul that you can't quiet it if you tried.

No one ever said that it was easy
So come out of the cold and stop your bleeding
I never would of thought that things could
Go this far, but please believe me...

I'll pick you up, won't let you fall
I'll build your trust and it won't hurt at all.

I heard God in my heart very clearly in that moment. "I gave you three chances, Jerry."

"When, God?" I spoke aloud in response to the words being etched on my heart.

"Tonight... I gave you three chances to be free and admit what you've done." Images of the people's faces of the past few minutes flew through my mind. I knew what he was talking about.

"What have I done? I'm just watching a movie." I was scared. Did he really know what I was going to do just minutes before? Did he know the contents of that tape? I know. Looking back, that is a silly question. But at the time, that's what I was thinking. I was, as I always had, trying to hide my sin under my clean-chrisitian image. But not God. It was useless. He saw the rotten tomb inside. The clean pristine image outside wasn't fooling him in the slightest. But here I was... me... the small frail dirty human. And I was arguing with all-powerful God... the creator of the Universe and all creation. I was struggling to maintain the porcelean mask I'd held up for years.

"Jerry. I gave you three chances. But you denied me... You denied telling the truth so that you could hide your own lusts. You have to choose. Do you want me, or not? If you claim to be my servant, live it. If not, stop pretending." The weight of those words was too much. I broke down. In the middle of my dorm room, I fell to the floor and just cried. I was broken, inside.

Are you gonna run away, and leave me here alone?
Are you gonna run away, and leave me here?

When I feel numb I'll let you know,
I won't become what I was before,
You cannot kill what's not your creation,
This is the Art of Breaking.

This is the Art of Breaking.

My life, in that one moment, shattered. I cried there on the cement and tile floor simply begging God's forgiveness for hours. By midnight I was exhausted. I had been pouring out everything I'd done and giving all to God... every thing I could think of... every sinful thought that I could dig out. I cried so much that I couldn't cry any more. Shortly into the new day, weak and tired, I peeled myself off the floor and looked around the room.

My body was cold from laying on the cement floor. But I felt something... The room was the same as it was before. The tape was still on the shelf. The bible was on the bed. But, as tired as I was, there was something different. Peace. That was a feeling I hadn't felt in years. In the act of hiding, I had to be on guard 24/7. I couldn't just rest, and experience peace. If I did, I might slip up and show a piece of this grotesque slime that I called my life.

But now, I had peace. It was the most amazing feeling to realize I could, once again, feel emotion. I dismantled the VCR from the TV, and took it back down to the front desk. I took the tape back to the 4th floor. I came back to my room and curled up on my bed and talked to God until I fell asleep.

Did I wake upto a perfect life? No. I woke up to a gray day, and to the realization that I now had "a past" instead of "the present". That, in itself, was very comforting. But then an even better thought occurred to me. I had "a future."

In 1993, at the age of 21, I crawled out of my "slow bleed". I was still a dirty, bloody mess, emotionally. I was still alone, but not lonely. I was still struggling to find myself under all of the crud and scars. But I was free from the downward spiral that I'd placed myself in ever so gently. God began slowly lifting me out.

It was over the next ten years that God had to put me back together. Some people he "fixes" over night. But that wasn't my case. He chose to use time to heal the emotional scars I'd inflicted on myself.

I still struggle with lust. Every male in the US does, at some point. And those that don't are either lying like I did, or are very very blessed, and should praise God for this gift. If I were a betting man, my money would go on the former, though.

I still find it hard to discuss this openly. That's why I'm blogging about it. It's much easier to type than it is to speak.

If you've read part one, you know that I like to draw, but it hasn't always been in the best of senses. Since God confronted me, I still like to draw. In fact, it has been one of the ways I come to know how much God loves me. I pour my heart out to God and he responds, and I journal those thoughts and images onto paper.

Did I make perfect choices after that experience? Not in the slightest. In fact, two months after this event, I made one of the biggest choices of my life. But this post is getting too long as it is. That will have to wait for part 3.

The Art of Breaking (part 1)

I sat in damp darkness, taunting death itself.
Life was far from me. Shadows of my mind were my only friends.
And even they tore at me with stilletto claws.
What I called entertainment, you called sin.
But didn't you hate me? Aren't I detestable to you?
No. Instead you came between me and the blade,
And took the death that I so rightfully deserved.
Then you destroyed my past? That, I can't understand.
Why would you go through that for someone like me,
Who cursed your holy name?
Yet, you gave me life, and brought me safely into the light.

Copyright 2000, Jerry Hanel

Yeah... I've found a theme. The album I mentioned last time is actually a great look into my own past... even my present. You want to know about me without the hassle of reading these posts, check out The Art of Breaking.

If you think you know me, and don't want to see my dirt, feel free to skip these posts. What is posted here is personal, and delves into everything that makes me who I am. It isn't a feel-good story, or a bit of "doctrinal wisdom." It's fact. Unfortunate, heart-splitting, raw fact. But this is what I have to do. I have to set the record straight.

Where do I even start? I guess the start for me was in my childhood. Those of you that know me know I have the world's best parents. No, Seriously. I do.

I really wish I could blame my past choices on my parents, my sister, my teachers or on something else as far removed from my own person. But the fact is, before I even start, the choices I've made are my own, and mine alone. The snipets of quotes in the remainder of this post are from TFK's song "Hurt" on the album "The Art of Breaking". Why that song? Because during this, the darkest period of my life, I was hurting. Emotional pain was something I could very easily relate to. I was struggling with things I couldn't tell people about...

Not my parents. How could I tell my parents what I have in this post, especially at such a young age? I was mortified. They couldn't possibly understand.

Not my self. I couldn't admit these things to myself for fear of going insane. Over the years, I learned very well how to separate my feelings into the two categories of my life.

Not my church. They wouldn't have cared. They would have been apalled at even the "light-core" stuff in my life. To tell them of ALL of my problems? I was mortified! My family would have been cast out of the church... or so was my perception.

So it starts. This is who I used to be.

Drop the ball, watch it fall far below
Suck you in, hold your breath
The undertow creeps in slow
Everyone owns a gun deep inside
It's just a matter of how much you let it slide

I was introduced to pornography at the age of 8 or 9 by a neighbor kid. I hid those thoughts and images in my mind. Did my parents know? Of course not. At least, I never told them.

I've let it slide, in various degrees all my life, and the pain of it grinding against my heart has been a daily familliar feeling. THis entire story has been a battle in the mind, and my scars are not physical, but emotional. All tht time, God was calling to me, very similarly to the lyrics in the song:

Help me help you. They wont be there.
Help me help you. They won't see.

It hurts when you need me
And I can't break your fall
It hurts when you can't see
And it hurts

I would love to say I walked away from those things and turned to God, but I didn't. I would love to say that I followed my lusts out of ignorance. But I knew the truth. I knew what was right and wrong. I knew. But I chose to fall, and God let me. It pained him to see me be stupid, but God was there, watching it all. He was standing beside me, watching me try on my own, and wallowing in my own lusts. Why? Because it was my choice. God allows us to choose... that's what "free will" is all about.

At 13, when every boy starts to wonder about sexuality, I thought about it, too. I pulled up those images from my mind and began to think about them. By the time I was 15, I had found ways to hide all of this inside, and began to really make a mess of my thought life.

Drop the switch, scratch the itch, watch it grow
Inch by inch, the cutting board, watch it swing to and fro
Everyone carries one deep inside
It's just a matter of how much you let it slide

My mom was a very handy-crafty person. She built me a desk for school. It ws a fantastic desk. It was rustic-looking with beveled edged drawers. It wasn't fancy, but it was special to me.

From 13 to 18, I sketched pictures and held those images in my mind. I hid the sketches in the wooden desk that my mother built for me. And under the stack of art supplies, papers, and other various toys, I hid a folder with some images I'd drawn that would make most sailors blush. I learned, on my own with those demons and monkeys on my back, how to lust. I learned to imagine and hide my lust inside.

On the outside, I remained the perfect "christian boy". I was the exact image Christ spoke to the Pharasees of a "white-washed tomb." I was stately and elegant on the outside, with a dead soul, rotting on the inside. I hated my life. I hated myself. I knew what I had was wrong. But I let it slide. "It's okay." I told myself. It's not like I was doing those things I drew. It's just a thought... a simple mental image.

I grew up in that life, learning to have two lives: one inside my head, and one I showed to the world. I knew it was wrong. Why else was I trying like crazy to not let anyone see inside... to see what I thought, and how I felt? Which "me" was the real me? There is where my insanity came from. Admitting to myself that the thoughts I would hide in the corners of my mind was "the real me" was something I couldn't do. But, in reality, that is who I was. The twisted pervert. But no one knew. No one knew me. I wouldn't let anyone inside to know me. They might discover my secrets.

I withdrew from social situations, to the corners of my mind, where those images were stored.

Help me help you. They won't be there.
Help me help you. They won't see.

It hurts when you need me
And I can't break your fall
It hurts when you can't see
And it hurts

Did I buy magazines? Generally, I didn't have to. I drew my own pictures. But, as I got older, I wanted a frame of reference, so I did buy one when I was 17. I didn't get carded, and the clerk didn't seem to blink selling one to a smooth-skinned, still-in-high-school kid. Having one in our house was definately taboo, so I hid it inside my grandmother's old radio. A few months later, I went to college, and burned my childhood collection of sketches.

I didn't want mom to find those sketches and drawings. She is the main reason I haven't said more to the family until this post... I can't stand to hurt her. She is the most wonderful woman, and I have always feared that hearing what I've done would kill her, emotionally. I would never want to subject her to the pain and lonliness that I carried myself.

My father found the only porn magazine I'd ever bought eight months or so after moving to college. He began to take apart the old radio to see if he could get it to work again, and there -- right under the turn-table assembly -- was the magazine. He burned it, then confronted me that weekend when he came up to town. I told him it was not mine. WHOSE ELSE WOULD IT HAVE BEEN, JERRY?? But he let it slide. He let me off the hook... but I didn't let me off the hook.

I hated myself. I felt like I was slimy inside... Dark, humid, slimy, and grotesque. I was a living corpse, rotting at the very core and at each joint. The muscle under my pristine flesh felt weak and tired. I tried to repent from my sins. I asked forgiveness, but I would let myself climb right back into the grime when I got back to the dorms. I was a hypocrite.

In my Freshman year, the guys would yell down the hall once or twice per semester "Porn fest in the lounge." A couple of the guys brought porn tapes they'd borrowed from their fathers at home. I was introduced to the sex act on tape, and I was lost. No matter how much I told myself "If they shout again, I won't go," I did.

Wash it off, take the loss, let it go
Take it in, drink it up, we can just take it slow
Everyone carries one deep inside
It's just a matter of how much you let it slide

Yet again, I let it slide. It's just a video. By this time, I had gotten so good and convincing myself and lying to myself that I told myself I was admiring the female form. After all, I reasoned, wasn't Eve naked in the garden?

My double life began to take an even greater toll on my mental health... While I never was into cutting (I have a STRONG AVERSION to pain and blood... especially my own), I can relate to the pain and lonliness that drives a person to do so. I withdrew from my parents as much as I could. I was far from my hometown, and I knew no one excpet a few computer geeks like me who frequented the computer labs. I couldn't let people get close to me, for fear of them finding my secrets. I went from class to room to class to room.

And it hurts when you're lonely
And I'm standing right beside you there
And it hurt when you told me
That you told me that you tried this on your own

Hope you never hurt
Hope you never cry
Hope you never lose your way tonight
Hope you never crumble
Hope you never fall
Hope you never throw away the...

Drop the ball, watch it fall far below
Suck you in, hold your breath, watch it swing

I was very lonely. I was a terrified child in a young man's body. Lust and my secrets were draining the life from me. Even as I type this, I feel the familliar dark tug of depression and constriction around my chest. I was hurting, lonely, depressed, and needing something... but I was a "christian". I went to church. I helped with the kids programs. What could I need? Forgiveness?

I would cry on Sunday afternoons for God to "fix" me... but by that evening I was finding more porn on a new software invention called web browsers. In those days, there were a total of less than one thousand web sites in the world, and most of those were for research and term papers. Sex-for-sale-online wasn't even a concept, unless you knew where to look. But I knew where to dig. Deeper and deeper I would dig into the depression and lust that consumed me. The more I found, the more I withdrew. The more I withdrew, the more I tried to find acceptance in something. To find an emotion in the images, so I would dig to find more.

In my dark bouts of depression, I would sit with the lights off in my dorm because the florescent lights hurt... not my eyes, but my emotions. I would lock my door, hoping that no one would come in and see the things in my mind, and the things on my computer screen.

It hurts when you need me
And I can't break your fall
It hurts when you can't see
And it hurts

And it hurts

I was sincerely hurting... and God was hurting, too. He was waiting patiently for me to get to a point in my life where I would listen. I was stubborn, and I refused to acknowledge that I didn't know God. I knew OF him. But that is a huge gap.

I was 21 when that day came, and God became "real" to me. I can say I have felt the stern hand of God. And it was the most incredible feeling I've ever had... but seeing as this post is getting very large, you'll have to read that chapter next time.

What if I don't turn out??

The Art of Breaking.

At times i find my mind unwinds and i don't think when i walk,
Run into things and fall down
It's coming around again and i've found sometimes
I don't think when i talk
And put my foot in my mouth
And sometimes when i, i look at me
And wish i could be somebody else
Sometimes i throw myself and let go, but never no
Intention to see a picture of me and trap myself

All this time, we've been mislead,
...Does anyone care at all?

Sometimes i fall asleep and then i lose control
I try to find my way out without letting go
And will i lose my mind if it comes back this time?
If i dont turn out perfect will you be a friend of mine?

It's coming around again and i've found sometimes i sit
When i should get up and just walk away
Sometimes i pretend and act like i do
But don't listen to a word you say
And sometimes when i start talking out loud
Should just shut my mouth and walk away
Sometimes i feel like maybe it's real and think like nobody else
Too close to myself and suffocate

Are you ready to crawl out?
Are you ready to take my hand and see?
Are you ready to crawl out?
From within the slow bleed?
From within the slow bleed?
From within the slow bleed?
Take this away from me

--Thousand Foot Krutch: Slow Bleed
Album: The Art of Breaking
Year: 2005

Thousand Foot Krutch's song "Slow Bleed" is written for the angst-ridden teen culture. It's a hard-rock song that follows their signature style of digging to the heart of the matter with a heavy beats, strong chords, and lyrics that don't pull punches.

The main lyric of the song somehow struck a chord with me today. If you should happen to be a fan of TFK, you probably know the context with which this was quoted. But for those that don't I've quoted it in-context above.

"If I don't turn out perfect, will you be a friend of mine?"

Put yourself in the culture of people roaming the streets today. What hope do they have? What help do they have? What would they be thinking? They see no future. They see no hope. They see themselves slowly bleeding (emotionally and physically). Death, in some cases, is unavoidable. It's coming, they see no way to resolve it, and it feeds itself into a downward spiral... a slow bleed down to the depths of insanity.

Yet when they turn to the church -- the supposed safe-haven for those who have no hope -- what do they see? Groups of men in suits, without a flaw. There is no one that they see that could possibly relate to their situation.

Christ wasn't like that. He was there. Real. Was he perfect? Yes. But he still put himself in their shoes and displayed humanity.

Yet, I am not perfect. What right do I have -- if God himself didn't try to air his own perfection -- to fake being perfect to save face? It's time I be real before everyone.

I have to be real to my family and friends, first of all. I hide my dirty little secrets thinking that if I tell them about ALL that I am, they might be offended, hurt, or even run away screaming, not knowing what I used to be. If I don't turn out perfect, will you be a friend of mine?

I have to be real with those I meet. I can't say that I am any better than I am. I have to clothe myself in humility. If I put on an air of superiority (when in reality I am not!!) I may be pushing someone I don't know back down into their own version of "slow bleed."

I have to be real. Period.

As you read my posts in the next few weeks... if I don't turn out perfect, will you be a friend of mine?

It doesn't matter, to be honest. Christ has already stood over me, offering me a hand out of my own "slow bleed". He pulled me out of my own tar pit, and cleansed me from my lies, my lust, my shame. He is a friend of mine. He hasn't run off screaming, but instead holds me safely in his arms.

Are you bleeding (emotionally) and not finding hope? I can't say I'm better than you. As you'll soon see, I'm no better than ANYONE. I can't judge you for fear of being under judgement myself. But I can say that there is hope.

Delays again

More delays in posting. You may be asking yourself "Why?" Okay. Probably not. But I am. I guess it's just been a very crazy two weeks.

God has been really using this time to bring my attention back to where it belongs, and get my attitudes focused on Him. I do want to just mention a couple of items, today. Mainly about money.

When I posted about "money concerns" I was ranting to God. Are we in financial jeapoardy? No. Are going to run out of money? Be homeless? Miss a meal? No, no, no. God has promised to provide, and I am resting on that. My job is stable (as any job is in today's world, anyway) and we are making ends meet just fine. I was letting things get to me, and the spirits of fear and depression were taking full advantage of that.

The point of that post was not to highlight financial concerns, but the fact that I had placed money (and my perceived need for it) above my belief that God is in control.

I have had to come to a defining point in my heart. God is my provider, not this job. Not "a job". If I am obedient, God will put me where he needs me... then provide for my needs while I am there. If that implies that I am to be here, at another job, or even homeless, so be it. God is in control.

If I am to live in Tulsa, Nova Scotia, or somewhere else yet-to-be-thought-of... so be it.

I have to put God's will above my own, otherwise he is not God, he's just that magic genie that we all want in our hip pocket.

Gal. 6:7 - Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.

But if we think that God is our genie, and not God, the creator of the Universe, we taunt him. It is true that God is the perfect father. He loves us. But as creator, he is in control. We have a free will, and we can exercise it and take control from God, because he lets us. But in doing so, we walk away from God.

I sowed my own fear by not trusting God. And I reaped it in worry, anxiety and heartache. God is not mocked. He is sovreign. But also loving. When I came to know this, I asked forgiveness, and he was gracious with it, as he always has been. He has nevr denied me forgiveness when asked.

Where do you stand with God? Is he a loving God (i.e. the one in control)? Or is he the magic genie that you ask favors of, rub for good luck, and keep around to make your day go smooth?

Matthew 4:7Jesus said to him, "Again, Scripture says, 'Never tempt the Lord your God.'"