The waves were rough that day.
I had my little daughter standing next to me in the calf-deep water. Grannie was sitting in front of me, closer to the shore. We chatted. We laughed. And we didn’t notice the wave behind us.
All of the sudden we were smacked with a large, unexpected wave that lifted Hannah off her feet and nearly knocked my 88-pound grandmother under the water. Hannah had already been holding my hand, but since her feet no longer found footing on the ocean floor, the rip tide was carrying her north. I tightened my grip on her and lunged for my grandmother to help her keep her head above water.
I had two people who did not have enough strength to battle the wave and undertow on their own, clinging to me. My arms were outstretched, one pulled north and one pulled south. My heels dug into the sand beneath me and I held on as tight as I could, desperate to save them both. The wave passed and everyone righted themselves, hearts beating quickly, relief settling in.
Fighting Porn. Losing Hope.
Later, as I reflected on that terrifying moment, I saw myself not as the one doing the saving, but as the one who needed to be saved. Jesus was in my place, arms stretched out, hands clasped upon me, never losing His grip, despite the pull of the waves.
But when it came to Craig’s porn addiction, we both found ourselves letting go of the one person who could actually save us – Jesus.
I kept myself afloat with my list of rules and regulations he needed follow to keep away from porn. I buoyed myself with anger toward the porn industry. He tried to keep his head above water with his own willpower, which never seemed to last longer than a month or two. We were barely treading water because we put all our hope into recovery, an end to the tenacious cycle of addiction.
Please head on over to the Covenant Eyes blog to read more about how you can have hope even in the midst of the storms of porn addiction. Just click here.