Let me be very very very (and if that wasn’t enough- let’s throw another one in there–very) clear about something. Women struggling in pornography should not buy stock in psychobabble, self-reliance, empowerment, pro-feminist jargon.

Truth is, I have spent a few years watching pornography and it has taught me a thing or two about men.  It told me that when you hold open the doors, it’s just so you can stare at my body longer.  It told me that when you ask me how my day goes, you really are just leading up to asking if you can come home with me.  It taught me that all men really want is sex and that women exist simply to satisfy that want.  It taught me that I have no rights to speak for myself, that my opinions frankly don’t matter and are only respected if I am willing to compromise.

I have never really cared for flowers. At least that is what I have always said. I believed it too. Flowers just were not my thing. Dating was not my thing. Chocolate was not my thing. Gifts were not my thing. Flirting was not my thing. I could not tell you what was my thing. At the age of 21, I realized that “not my thing” was actually my way of saying, “I’m going to lower my expectations so I don’t get hurt.” I realized that I was protecting myself from disappointment. So began a long and painful process of breaking down walls and restoring what was broken.

In high school, my English teacher read a “Dear Mom” letter to our class. She called my name out, saying I would especially like this letter, reportedly written by a college freshman. By the time we got past the dropping out of college and running off with a stranger to have his child, I was a little confused as to why she thought I would get a kick out of this letter. In fact, I was borderline insulted. I would never! Then came the clincher- the last sentence: “Actually, Mom, none of that was true. I just wanted you to keep everything in perspective when I told you I got a C on my last test.”

As women, many of us wish for something like that when it comes to telling our parents, friends, church, family, spouse, (and anyone else who cares enough to be hurt by our actions) about our addiction to pornography, masturbation, or whatever other taboo sin has a grip on our hearts and lives. We wish there were something to soften the blow of “No, you’re perfect little princess is actually no princess at all.” I don’t even think that confessing murder would ease the shock of “I’m addicted to pornography.” There really is no way to start that conversation, but we have to.

That’s the killer.

Someone has to know, because sin thrives in silence. It breeds in silence, and in lies used to enforce that silence. Blowing the cover off sin is like clamping off the air supply on a diver’s tank. Throughout Scripture, we are told that we are children of the Light. Sin is equated to darkness. Obviously, at the presence of light, darkness is gone. But, notice this, the presence of darkness does not get rid of the light. Just the absence of light gets rid of the light. Darkness doesn’t really have any power. It is just the absence of something else.

Keep that in perspective, when you look at 1 John 1:6-7. It says, “If we say that we have fellowship with him, and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth: But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.”

There’s a couple things going on here. First off, it is pretty clear that we can’t say, “Oh yes, I’m pleasing God” and still keep on sinning. We’re lying, actually, which is adding insult to injury. The opposite then, of course, is to stop walking in darkness, how? By walking in light. So, you’re one or the other. There’s no middle ground. If you aren’t walking in the light, you are walking in darkness. But there’s more. If we walk in the light, we have fellowship one with another.

I get asked by young girls all the time, “How should I tell my mom?” I cannot imagine being a mother and hearing my daughter’s innocence has been compromised in such a way. I would be heart-broken. I would be devastated. And I would be angry, not at her- at Satan, at hell, at evil, at darkness and the fact that it had the nerve, audacity and wherewithal to come after my little girl. I would be fired up, but I would want to know. I would want her to tell me. Not so I can hold it over her head for the rest of her waking days but so I could be an ambassador of the love of Christ.

You may say, “Well this doesn’t say anything about confessing our weaknesses to each other.” Then what would be the point of the last part of that verse, “…and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.” That part speaks to both the giver and receiver of bad news. The giver is forgiven, and the receiver has a model to follow. Let’s face it, our sin never offends more than it offends God. While we may not be able to find a sin “worse than pornography” to help soften the blow, we do have an example of forgiveness. We have a hope to hold. We have a promise of forgiveness in the blood of Christ when we take the step of dragging our deeds of darkness into the light.