How a Porn Addict Found Hope Between the Altar and the Door

The next best thing to be wise oneself
is to live in a circle of those who are
– CS Lewis

(This blog is dedicated to my old friend and mentor, Shawn, and to all who help bear the burdens of those caught in the grip of pornography.)

I had the privilege of attending Friday’s Casting Crowns concert in Ypsilanti, Michigan.  Right before the show my wife and I got a chance to go backstage and meet Mark Hall, the rest of Casting Crowns, and the opening bands.  It was a very memorable night.

It was my first time seeing Casting Crowns live.  I was most impressed by their utter lack of pretension.  They really don’t look like rock stars or a Grammy-Award-winning band.  It was refreshing.  Melodee DeVevo was amazing on the violin.  Megan Garrett’s voice was incredible.  Andy Williams, the great bald wonder, was one of the most entertaining drummers I’ve seen.  Mark Hall impressed me as a humble man with a true youth minister’s heart who has sort of stumbled into fame and influence.

The opening song of the show was the title track from the band’s third studio release, “The Altar and the Door“:

Lord, this time I’ll make it right,
here at the altar I lay my life
Your kingdom come but my will was done,
my heart is broken as I cry,
like so many times before
But my eyes are dry
before I leave the floor, oh Lord
I try but this time, Jesus,
how can I be sure I will not lose my follow through
Between the altar and the door . . .
I’m trying so hard to stop trying so hard
Just let You be who You are
Lord, who You are in me

How my heart resonated with these words. When I was caught in the grip of pornography addiction, there was a besetting misery in me each time I looked for answers. I knew I could not excuse my behavior like a helpless victim, but I felt helpless and utterly out of control.  I became familiar with the smell of church carpet near the altar.  I became familiar with the burn of fresh tears in my eyes.  No telling how many loving hands have touched my shaking, inconsolable shoulder.  After a while, I began to lose my faith in the altar calls, i.e. my resolve to follow through in obedience after a night of gut-wrenching repentance.

Then, one not so special day, an older man at my church asked me to go to lunch with him.  All I knew of him was that he was a gifted speaker and teacher in our church.  He said he wanted to get to know me better, that he could see some restlessness in my heart and wanted to offer any wisdom that might be relevant.  A few days later I found myself sitting across the table from him, divulging the depths of my sinful story to him, fighting back tears.  He became a true mentor to me starting that day.

During one of our long conversations, he offered to pray for me in regard to my addiction.  I asked him, rather cynically, what the difference would be between his prayer and every other altar-prayer offered on my behalf.  Without hesitation he looked at me and said, “The difference is I am not going to leave you.”  Even as I write this, I am still moved to tears remembering his words and his prayer.

And he didn’t leave me.  We spoke often on the phone.  We met week-in and week-out to talk and pray, dive into the depths of my heart, find the root of my sin, strip away my pretenses, and let the Word of God speak to those fractured areas of my heart.

Between the altar and the door I found the first step to true freedom: it was in a face-to-face relationship with a spiritual father and mentor.  In that season of my life I saw James 5:16 illustrated with crystal clarity: “Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.  The intense prayer of the righteous is very powerful.”

(If you enjoyed this testimony, see my previous blog: From Accountability to Discipleship)