Come Home II: The End
This entire series has been an illustration of the challenging issues many young people, Christian, or non-Christian face in their youth. From character A to Character F, it’s been evident that sexual immorality is something many delve into for various reasons [with the same healer over all]. Nonetheless, you as the reader may be a virgin or have no sexual background whatsoever, the thought of it all may even make you uncomfortable but it’s essential to understand [sexual] purity is not found in simply being a virgin. So then, what is it?
Come Home II: Character F
Comparison of testimony always had me question whether mine was truly worthy. I had no juice to share and quite frankly, I felt I had no part among my age mates. Countless stories of sexual counters versus my own boring grown and remained in church lifestyle; how could that glorify God? Thoughts of rewriting my testimony, in either the most subtle or dramatic way always dawned and university presented an opportunity which allowed me to do so. I dived into the deep and to my surprise I could actually swim. Blindly ‘making up for lost time’, I was satisfied and eventually; it didn’t even feel that deep. The waves [my involvement] intensified and switching pools [jumping from person a to be b] kept me more entertained than simply being recognised as the pastor’s daughter/son/first keys/drummer/prayer or worship leader. A life of secrecy soon built and I was far from remorseful. “Sin now and repent later embedded this never-ending cycle and as a result, I begun to drown; repudiating the very air that had once given me life. Every time I sat in my position of service, yes, I could still perform but – I was reminded of my falling off; albeit, the tug on my heart to return home [“Nah, I can’t serve two masters”] simply wouldn’t be followed through. I eventually became aware what I desired [instant gratification] wasn’t the answer. I had created voids I had previously never felt. And above all, I had exchanged the truth I once knew for a lie. How could I be forgiven?
Come Home II: Character A
How did I get here? Just the other day I was saved and set apart. Living in complete truth, I was sanctified. But a moment of weakness turned into what felt or currently feels like never-ending despair. I betrayed my relationship with the one who saved me from all that I had laid at the altar. My sin and my fame, my brokenness and my hurt, my addictions and my pride had previously brought me nothing but shame [Romans 6] and yet instant gratification seemed to be the solution to what I would usually resolve with prayer. How could I?
Character A: It all began so subtly, the roast seemed unending and the temptation to just have a look seemed unbearable. Now, this is a battle I had once faced and overcome so of course scripture did remain very much memorable; “no temptation has overcome me that is not common to man”, yes. So I won’t get hooked; I’m strong enough now – but I did. It’s fine, my actions won’t bring any dire consequences – but they did. I had fallen and not only so, conviction didn’t seem to follow to bring me home. Guilt itself had momentary say but my desires had the final word. And freely enjoying my moments of weakness, Jesus himself had no bait in which He could use to reel me back in. I had fallen, fallen and I loved it. Loved it until I recognised I had betrayed my Father. Betrayed all that He stood for in exchange for a lie and the journey home now seemed impossible. The roadblocks were no longer pornography and masturbation itself but the temptation birthed thoughts of actually indulging in intercourse. Me, a whole saved and sanctified, how did I get here? And with that in mind, how could I return home?
Come Home II: Character E
A product of the person I trusted and gave my all. Yesterday he told me he loved me and today he was gone. Gone with a piece of me which I should have never given away. In pursuit for restoration I found comfort in the very thing that had destroyed me. That didn’t seem to work and I found myself in the hands of multiple partners believing I had become the finesser all along I was being finessed. ‘Mr free food’, ‘free weed’ and ‘free clothes’ did all but supress my hurt. Numb and alone, I myself knew the truth; this façade of being fine was contradicted by nights like that of character D, only now; the scars of my hurt were magnified by a whole feed of tweets and Instagram posts crying out for help yet no one could hear my cry. A closet full of masks, drunkenness and erratic behaviour became everyday life yet I knew I had to change. I was left to myself and every moment of weakness ended the same, laying there feeling the shame of my decision to call him [or open that laptop]. The beat of my heart was no longer in tune with the climax but drummed into my mind this had to be the last time. But every ‘last time’ eventually persuaded me into masturbation and falling again. I was numb but how could I let go?
Come Home II: Character D
This was simply a life I never asked for. A turbulent childhood of abuse and negligence saw my innocence abruptly taken from me and instead built scars that subsequently formed a person I’ve always resented. I became one with my brokenness and sought solution in the very thing that begun my hurt jumping to and fro seeking for joy in that which I knew would not last. Multiple partners and some abusive relationships later, running seemed the best option but remaining felt easiest. Besides, where would I go? The very ones who were supposedly meant to protect me had no sense of my state so who else would care? [Or, with a broken and dysfunctional home, I simply had no one to turn to]. No one but those who showed me attention; attention which only lasted as long as my body would go and to this, I was numb. Masquerading as if I was fine became all I knew but sleepless nights of crying, battling depression and suicidal thoughts eventually led to attempts but for some reason the days simply wouldn’t end. [Or, as long as I could hit those harmonies on the TL and during worship in church, I was fine. And through all this, God was apparently there but where was He when my innocence was taken? A question which persistently led me into the arms of many feeling impatient and unworthy of His love as though nothing will change. What could I do?
Come Home II: Character C
I mean, at times I did see the problem, but blocking the voice of reason was never a difficult task. Constantly comforted by the thoughts of “at least my sister isn’t like the girls I’m pursuing”, I endeavoured to satisfy my own ego, all along I was producing destruction as I journeyed. Destruction minimised by encouragement of “was it a good beat?” “You didn’t press?” Statements we’d hysterically laugh at, but at least it wasn’t my sister. I had no remorse, this was life. Life lived releasing my countless frustrations on whoever would do. This was a norm. A norm I had grown into; degrading my counterparts yet praising my mother for being the ideal woman. She didn’t raise a fool but I acted as one, “these girls, you can’t trust them”, all along I’m looking for the right one. The right one for what? Truly I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t believe in love yet I wanted to be loved. Didn’t need love and affection but she did make my heart flutter. All the while, “I swear I’m not sarft”. A facade covering what I myself was oblivious to, I was secretly broken. In addition to that, hard to understand, I was too complex for myself, who else could comprehend?
I devalued every female I encountered believing her attraction to my lifestyle entitled me to all that I wanted. If she didn’t respect herself, why should I have been the one to show her any? I refused to be accountable for my actions, living as if I hadn’t placed traps for many to fall. I’d even money march all the way home relishing in what became a challenge to outdo myself; covering my conscience with “it’s God who gave me this high sex drive, how could He expect me to contain it”? Some would conclude having no authoritative male figure summarised most of my behaviour, but momma raised a good soul, society just took him from her. Or, [C2: I had male figures, and it was simply their footsteps I followed, steps I eventually bore the consequences for. C3: In fact, I had a good home, nuclear family and all, but my environment moulded my conscience into something else]. Even so, my lifestyle was more than just girls; my pain ran deeper. Societal norms say I’m acting out of character but if only they knew. Friends I called brothers turned out to be fake and the real all ended up either in jail or the grave, it’s mad. All alone but surrounded by many, could I be blamed?
Come Home II: Character B
For me, this is simply a lifestyle I’ve known from my early teens; siblings, friends and society normalised it but a question of the issue always did linger. Until my body count exceeded the amount of prayers I even said in a month. My insatiable thirst surpassed my desire to be free from sin and added to my hunger to sin freely and being convinced my future partner was more than likely pursuing the same lusts I endeavoured to enjoy myself [or my future partner and I were journeying in those lusts together]. This had become a norm forgetting His standard of holiness had not [and will not ever] waver but this talk of abstinence seemed far from possible. Yet, Abba still loved me and I claimed to love Him. Claiming to have given my life to Him but living as if it was my own, all the while oblivious to the fact that a life of presumptuous sin will always separate me from being intimate with Him. It’s only His mercy that makes a way for a new day but until we are consecrated and repentant, we are not adopted sons and daughters. I’m reminded “claiming Me makes you accountable so it’s essential you claim Me wholeheartedly”. All this I knew, but how could I end it?