Pornography: Perhaps this is a foolish subject to write about. Perhaps it is one of those subjects believers are expected to avoid. Yet maybe that is part of the problem. I sometimes think one of the greatest fictions in Christianity is the illusion that everyone is doing far better than they really are. We all learn to wear masks. We learn the right words, the right expressions, and the right testimony. We learn how to speak as though sin and temptation belong to other people. Then something unexpected happens. The mask slips. Reality intrudes. And we are reminded once again that we are not nearly as strong, righteous, or respectable as we sometimes imagine ourselves to be.
This week, while looking through some old family videos with my daughter, who is visiting for a week with her two children, I stumbled across an old file that should have been deleted a long time ago. The title alone immediately brought back memories of a different season of life. If I am being completely honest, the line between “who I was” and “who I am” is often not as clear as we would like it to be. So, I do not write these things as someone looking down from a position of victory. I write them as a fellow sinner who has learned that self-confidence is a poor refuge and that the mercy of God remains my only hope.
Maybe that is why what happened next affected me so deeply. In that moment, a wave of guilt and embarrassment swept over me. I wanted to crawl under a rock and die. My daughter never even saw it. But I did. And in that moment I was reminded once again that beneath all of our carefully maintained appearances, we are still human beings. We are not good people in need of a little improvement, but sinners in need of mercy. Luke 18:13.
That is not an excuse for sin. It is an honest acknowledgment of what Scripture has been saying all along. Beneath all of our appearances, polished religious language, and carefully maintained reputations, we remain entirely dependent upon the grace of God. In fact, I believe it is an undeniable truth that we are far worse than we imagine ourselves to be, and Christ is far more merciful than we often dare to believe, and more gracious than we can possibly comprehend. Romans 5:20.
What do we do with that reality? Not simply the reality of a particular sin, but the reality that all of us carry within us far more weakness and corruption than we usually care to admit. One person wrestles with pride. Another with bitterness. Another with anger. Another with lust. The outward expressions may differ, but the underlying problem remains the same. Whatever form our struggle takes, we all find ourselves seeking the same mercy David sought when he cried, “have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness; according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.” Psalm 51:1.
Perhaps the real surprise is not that we struggle. The real surprise is that God continues to show mercy to people who do. The longer I live, the less impressed I become with human righteousness and the more astonished I become that God receives sinners at all. We have nothing to bring before Him except our need. If acceptance with God depended in any measure upon our obedience, our consistency, or our sincerity, none of us could stand. The wonder of the gospel is not that sinners need mercy, but that mercy is actually found – found freely, abundantly, and eternally in the Lord Jesus Christ, who continues to receive sinners long after they have exhausted every reason they can think of for Him to do so.
The truth is, God created us as men and women. He created marriage. He created intimacy. These things are not accidents, nor are they somehow embarrassing parts of the human experience. They are gifts of God. My wife and I have been married nearly forty years and raised six children together. Some of the happiest memories of my life are inseparably connected to those gifts. Yet somewhere along the way, many Christians seem to have embraced an understanding of the Christian life that is difficult to reconcile with the testimony of Scripture. We speak as though genuine believers eventually move beyond struggle, weakness, temptation, and inward conflict. Real life does not work that way. Scripture certainly does not describe it that way. The Bible is filled with men and women who knew both the reality of human weakness and the necessity of divine mercy.
The older I get, the more convinced I become that one of the hardest things for Christians to do is simply tell the truth about themselves. Perhaps the problem is not that we struggle. The problem is that we have become experts at hiding it. We have learned how to speak about victory while remaining strangely silent about weakness. We know how to discuss doctrine, standards, and spiritual growth, yet often seem uncomfortable discussing the daily reality of our own hearts. The result is a culture where everyone appears strong while many secretly fear they are the only ones who are not. It is little wonder, then, that so many believers feel isolated in their struggles. Their experience often seems at odds with the way Christianity is sometimes presented. Many grow up hearing: “You have been set free.” “You are a new creature.” “You have victory.” “You have the power of God.” Then they discover that the battle is not over. Lust remains. Pride remains. Anger remains. Envy remains. Selfishness remains. Bitterness remains. And suddenly they find themselves wondering what is wrong with them.
For many, that realization creates a crisis. Some respond by constructing a carefully maintained image of strength, concealing their struggles behind religious language. Others become discouraged and begin questioning the reality of their own faith. Still others spend years, even decades, chasing the next book, conference, accountability system, or spiritual technique, hoping to finally become in reality what they have spent years pretending to be.
Part of the difficulty is that many Christians are trying to reconcile their experience with expectations they have been taught to have. And despite all the talk of victory, overcoming sin, and spiritual growth – however one understands regeneration, sanctification, the new nature, or any of the other ways these truths are explained – the reality remains that believers continue to struggle. Whatever our theological conclusions may be, the Christian life is often far more complicated, frustrating, and humbling than we anticipated.
The Bible does not present God’s people as spiritual superheroes who rose above every weakness and temptation. Instead, it tells the truth about them. Scripture is remarkably honest about the people God saves. Noah became drunk. Lot acted shamefully. David committed adultery and murder. Peter denied the Lord with cursing. The Corinthian church was filled with divisions, immorality, and worldliness. Yet the Bible does not hide these things. It records them, not to excuse sin, but to remind us that God’s people have always been people in need of mercy.
I also think there is something deeply human about admitting that sexual temptation is not some bizarre problem experienced only by a few unusually wicked people. One of the things Scripture repeatedly teaches us is that sin does not merely belong to certain people. It belongs to humanity. That is precisely why the Bible is so honest about its saints. Their failures are recorded not so we can excuse our own, but so we can learn where hope is actually found. Not in ourselves, but in the mercy of God. The details may differ from person to person, but every one of us eventually discovers that we are not nearly as strong as we imagined ourselves to be.
We spend so much time trying to appear better than we really are, but the truth is that none of us has anything to boast of before God. We deserve nothing but condemnation. Yet instead of giving us what we deserve, He continues to show mercy. We stumble through life, often repeating the same failures, crying out for help, longing for deliverance, and wondering why we remain so sinful and weak. Anyone who has ever found themselves trapped in that cycle understands the frustration, weariness, and grief it brings. In my experience, the difficulty is often made worse by the conflicting messages believers receive about the Christian life.
On one side, there are those who seem determined to convince everyone that victory over sin is almost unlimited if we would only apply the right principles. On the other side, there are those who speak of ongoing sin in such a way that the seriousness of sin almost disappears. Neither approach ultimately helps the struggling believer. Scripture continually directs our attention somewhere else. It directs us to Christ. Not because sin is unimportant, nor because growth in grace is unnecessary, but because Christ remains the only hope of sinners.
The Bible never minimizes sin, but neither does it leave us staring endlessly at ourselves. Again and again, it points us to the Savior. Perhaps that brings us back to where we began. The answer is not another mask. It is not pretending to be stronger than we are. It is not learning how to speak more convincingly about victory. The answer is honesty – honesty about ourselves and honesty about Christ. The believer needs Christ today for the same reason he needed Christ on the first day: because his need for mercy has never changed. And that is the wonder of the gospel, not that we have finally become what we should be, but that Christ remains exactly who He has always been: merciful to sinners. I Timothy 1:15. MPJ
PostScript: I suspect one of the great discoveries of life is realizing that sinful people are everywhere. The difference is not that some sin and others do not. The difference is often that some have become very skilled at hiding it. That is one reason I think honesty matters. Not because there is virtue in dwelling on our failures, but because there is freedom in finally abandoning the illusion of our own exceptionality. Life has a way of stripping those illusions away. Through weakness, failure, regret, and countless humbling moments, we gradually discover that we are not nearly as different from other people as we once imagined. Perhaps one of the deepest works of grace is bringing a man to that realization and teaching him to seek mercy rather than distinction.
In the end, I wasn’t trying to shock anyone. I was trying to point people to Christ. After all, what else is really worth talking about? The funny thing is that the article ended up being about something completely different than where it started. It began with pornography, but it ended up being about human weakness, religious masks, God’s mercy, and the Lord Jesus Christ. In many ways, it became a reflection on the difference between who we imagine ourselves to be and who we really are.
You wrote, “What if the most uncommon of men is the one who truly knows how common he is? To me that would be nothing less than a testimony to a miraculous power… in the land where, as you say, we have become experts at hiding it.” So true – most people want to distinguish themselves from others. That’s simply part of our nature. None of us are immune. We all want to appear wiser, holier, more faithful, more consistent, more spiritual. Yet what if the miracle of grace is not becoming exceptional? What if the miracle is finally seeing that you are not?
Here’s a thought, perhaps the truly uncommon man is the one who finally realizes how common he is. That seems very close to the publican’s prayer in Luke 18. Not a man distinguishing himself from others, but a sinner crying for mercy. The Pharisee’s confidence rested in the belief that he was different. The publican’s hope rested in the realization that he was not. One boasted in distinction. The other pleaded for mercy. MPJ
PostScript #2: Thank you, brother. I agree completely. I certainly hope I never become indifferent toward sin. In fact, I sometimes wonder if one of the evidences of God’s grace is that His children can never remain truly at peace with it. They may stumble. They may wander. They may even fall deeply. But sooner or later, the cry returns: “God be merciful to me a sinner.” The longing for mercy, cleansing, and deliverance remains because Christ Himself remains precious. I suppose that is one reason David’s prayer in Psalm 51 has comforted God’s people for so many generations. It is the prayer of a man who hates what he has done and knows exactly where mercy must be found.