I was sitting in the public gallery of Church House on 15th November last year. As the afternoon session closed, bringing another cycle of LLF(Living in Life and Faith) debates to an end, I caught the eye of the lady sitting to my right. We silently shook our heads at each other in polite and pained disappointment at what had happened. Giving a look around the circular hall, she said, “I can’t feel Jesus here anywhere. I just don’t know where He is.”

The Naked Truth Project, nakedtruthproject.com, is a UK charity “committed to changing minds and changing lives through awareness, education and recovery programmes.” The website opens with a video of a powerful poem; this  beautifully depicts their goal to teach about the harmfulness of porn and provide a vision for life, human flourishing and restoration. Toward that end, they offer a variety of resources to help parents, spouses, teachers, schools and churches understand and address issues of pornography.

One of the recent open day lectures run by Oak Hill Theological College, was on the theme of pornography. This was given by Robin Barfield, a children’s and youth worker. 

I grew up in a Christian home. My Mum is a Spirit-filled, born-again believer of Christ, and brought up my sister and I to attend church and Sunday school. My Dad left my Mum under quite heart-breaking circumstances when I was just 2 and moved about 30 miles away. We usually saw him at the weekend. He and Mum had been elders at a local Church of England, but upon his sudden departure, Mum felt unable to return to church.

I have been battling with porn for most of my life. My first encounter with hard core porn came between the ages of 11 and 12. I never thought at the time how much this would destroy me. Years passed and I would regularly watch videos or look at magazine images. At the age of 18, I made a commitment of faith, but, sadly, not very much changed in my behaviour. A week before my 21st birthday, my life with Jesus took a big step forward. I began getting help with my alcohol dependency, but my issue with porn remained unaddressed.

One morning, while still in bed, I had a big light bulb moment. I suddenly realised that I had got myself into a big hole. I was drowning, and I wasn’t really sure how I got there. I had become addicted to pornography.

“Can a man walk on hot coals without his feet being scorched? So is he who sleeps with another man’s wife; no one who touches her will go unpunished.” – Proverbs 6:28-29 (NIV)

At least it’s not porn.” This phrase ran through my head somehow giving personal validation to my choices as a young teenager to gaze upon historical artwork of unclothed persons, dwell on human anatomy in science textbooks, and re-watch scenes from some popular movies. I was allowed to see all of these things, so surely it wasn’t wrong. I kept telling myself, “it’s not porn,” but I was still using it as visual stimulation and it morphed into erotica in my mind. These desires and habits became ingrained, and the trajectory was set.

Many same-sex attracted Christians feel that respecting God’s design for marriage means that they have to sacrifice their desire for a same-sex partner. I was challenged recently with the question of whether giving up a sinful relationship really can be counted as a sacrifice. Is it not merely an act of obedience?