Friday night I encountered temptation I couldn’t overcome….but I lasted ‘til Saturday. Saturday was ‘roughfa’ though…my commitment to breaking my flesh cold turkey came to a head 4 months since my decision to not fornicate and the further acceptance of the fact the masturbation too is sinful pon a moral level as well as in a direct sorta way through it opening of the mind to lust (nuff people nuh agree wid this but a suh mi feel).
As I battled my thoughts and aching body with prayer and the odd scripture I had somewhat memorized, I felt control of self slip further and further over to the darkside. From dusk ‘til dawn to the silence of almost twilight, I toiled…I tried…… And no doubt it was presumptuous sin when I gave in, for fear of my absolute implosion, to the yearning and did the ‘lesser evil’ of self help. Twas not enough, so a second and third round was aimed at adequately removing the monkey from my back…twas still not enough. Sin begets more sin.
Frustration, anger, sadness, weakness kicked in and I found myself reasoning with the Spirit to spare my sanity for I was not strong enough….the recommendations he made fell on deaf ears and I made a call. Ordinarily once I’m home, I like to stay in, worse when you sometimes hear the stories of people who left their homes in the night and were struck down….death has not yet lost its sting for me….But I showered and left nonetheless, driven by the promise of release.
I mustered sufficient restraint initially, chatting over conch stew and football, being careful not to let the gentleman go back on his word to look but not touch. I was doing well too, until I caught sight of his wide smile, smokers lips, half open eyes, hair trailing down his stomach to his groin……he was sexy. With focus on the subject drifting farther and farther from my mind I decided to test his control…my jeans and top were removed with surprising ease, as I watched his smile turn to lust before he covered my lips in a kiss… I had missed kissing him.
Things escalated as they often do with too many hormones in one room, and his hands on my now damp skin were teasing sweet moans from the recesses of my throat. Aroused and whimpering I asked him to break his bond…he refused for my greater good, my commitment which he was more committed to seeing me keep than me, in the moment. I’m pretty versed in some of the safeguards from the Lord but the Devil was with me that night, and though I recognized I insisted. Anger rose and we joked seriously about the implications of my continued stay, that fact that I could genuinely call him a whimp who would let sumpn hot and ready slip through his hands.
Vexation and frustration made us part ways temporarily as he stepped outside for a smoke and I flipped through porn channels for stimuli to quench my thirst. When he returned to the room and commenced surfing the net, my ire grew greater and thoughts of leaving played in my mind…but that would have been too easy. The battle continued and somewhere in there I asked for forgiveness for going this extra mile in sin (causing another to sin) but by that time I was twig about to snap….he gave in.
In the morning I woke to see him on a mattress on the floor, and wondered whether that was his remedy for not repeating the error. A sweet thought of changing my position to hang my hand over the bed’s edge to rest it on his chest fleetingly rambled through my mind….but instead, I felt scorned (maybe from my own guilt but definitely scorned) and given my continued emotional ineptness, again anger rose. As I washed up and was about to get dressed to leave before he woke….his voice interrupted the still of the morning and I saw red. My clothes were replaced almost as quickly as I’d taken them off and his explanation was less than logical….to me…guilt is a bitch.
With the crisp morning air against my face I turned the radio off and listened to the companion angry roar of the engine as I made my way home. Kudos to him for not letting my rudeness prevent him from calling to see if I was in…I couldn’t go to church later that day.
One of the things that carried me through the 4 months break was the tactic of reading a verse or two or ten, in times of insistent temptation….it occurred to me while I was in my struggle, but somehow never took root….My question then is “Will I ever really be changed…am I beyond redemption?”
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