My house smells like cookies. The sun is out. My baby is sleeping. My couch is full of clean and folded laundry (a rare sight, believe me...the dryer and clotheslines all serve as rudimentary dresser drawers at our house).
But my heart is so, so heavy. So full of burdens for people I dearly love who are in circumstances in which they never dreamed they'd find themselves. Marriages that are crumbling. Among other things, the men they love are in the throes of addiction and they are exchanging truth for a lie, reality for an idol. An idol that has eyes but does not see, ears but does not hear, a mouth that does not speak...and they are becoming like that idol. Numb. They worship something that is created, contrived, and false.
It is an idol that our society celebrates, accepts, and defends. Evidently it's "free speech." Consenting adults. Ha. We'd love to think that it's tied up in a neat package like that, but it ain't.
Think again. That which is free comes with a price, and the price of it is staggering. It is chipping away at our families, our relationships, our ability to see people as people, souls as souls.
I've been wanting to write about this for a long, long time. Fear of man has prevented me from doing it. It's part of the reason this blog sits dormant for weeks at a time. What I really want to pour out of my heart is dangerous. I'm afraid people will call me judgmental. A prude. A sensationalist. Not with-it. Over-the-edge.
Too bad. I've sat on my couch enough times now crying and praying with yet another friend whose dreams are threatening to be crushed by this entity. If it quacks like a duck, let's call it a duck.
Pornography is evil. Our culture is saturated and obsessed with sex. What God intended to be beautiful and in the context of a covenant relationship has been made a farce.
And I'm gonna write about it.