But...

Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God. (1 Corinthians 6:9-11)

When contemplating which way to go, sometimes it’s helpful to remember where you’ve come from, the direction you’ve been traveling, and the means by which you’ve arrived at this point. The Israelites recognized this and erected mounds of stones as memorials – Ebenezer stones – to commemorate important events. Washington, D.C. is awash in memorials to this president or to that war. It’s important that we remember our history, since it has an impact on our future.

Paul was erecting a Scriptural Ebenezer stone for the church at Corinth in the above passage. Many members of that church had previously been numbered among the wicked practitioners of the sins he lists. As he condemns them to exclusion from God’s kingdom, he pauses and says, ‘And that is what some of you were. But…’

But. Small word, big meaning. ‘But’ stands between what was and what is, between what has been and what may be. ‘But’ says you used to think a certain way, talk a certain way, do certain things…and those thoughts, words, and actions separated you from God. ‘But’ says something has happened to change that. ‘But’ says you are different now.

I am different now. Something happened to me. I was separated from God by my thoughts, words, and actions. I was the man Paul wrote about. This is my story.

I’m not really sure how it started: there were so many pieces – my parents’ divorce when I was 9, finding mom’s boyfriend’s stash of hardcore at age 10, meeting the strange old man from church who liked having boys rub him down with lotion at age 12, discovering masturbation, entertaining secret fantasies….these were all contributing factors, to be sure. By the time I left home for college, I was already hooked on sex and didn’t realize it. So far, though, (except for the old man and some ‘exploration’ when I was younger) the only ‘real’ person it involved was me.

Even then, something told me this wasn’t right. I tried to impose ‘sanctions’ on myself when I succumbed to the urge to masturbate, to no avail. Eventually, I began to accept that this was a part of my life.

Until the day everything changed for the worse.

My secret fantasies had almost always involved other men. I discovered a local place where men hooked up anonymously for sex, and I timidly approached. So began almost 25 years of lies, shame, and guilt. It wasn’t about relationships…for me, it was all about the sex. Living a double life takes a considerable amount of planning and coordination. You don’t want the one side to know about the other, because exposure brings pain and humiliation. This was the unforgivable, the one thing the Bible thumpers would chase you out of town for. Not that I was a ‘religious’ person, but I knew how the game was played. You show up on Sunday, put your $5 in the plate for fire insurance, and look righteous while you sing ‘Rock of Ages.’

I worried what would happen if I were uncovered? My new wife might abandon me, my employer might fire me, and there was also this new worry I heard about on TV…what was it called? AIDS? I knew it was wrong. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop. I had to do something.

How about a change of scenery? Circumstances provided an opportunity to relocate some 2,800 miles away, and I took my wife and new son east for a new beginning….to what I would soon discover was the gay capital of the East Coast. Before long I was back to my old habits and deeper into my old shame.

Once my marriage dissolved, it became harder and harder to keep my two lives separated. Frequently I’d run into men who I knew from the Dark Side while I was shopping or working. This was getting too close. I changed jobs, remarried, and tried harder to withdraw from this pattern. James talks about being dragged away and enticed by one’s own desires. That was me. I could run, but I couldn’t run away from me. I was falling closer to the bottom of the pit, where the death is that James speaks of :

… each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed.

Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is fullgrown, gives birth to death. (James 1:14-15)

We began listening to a couple we met at a camp, and eventually accepted their invitation to church, where we found the husband was a pastor. Eventually we both realized we needed to let Christ have control of our lives, and we accepted His forgiveness and grace. I wondered then, could Jesus maybe help me with this monster I had become?

It was a Friday evening in Baltimore, an unlikely place for a divine appointment. I was invited by the pastor to attend a Promise Keepers event, and I went, not knowing what to expect. This new Christian life was exciting and liberating, however, there were still times I was unable to resist the old temptations. I was feeling like a failure. The speaker that night asked for a show of hands – how many men had struggles with pornography? With fornication? With adultery? With homosexuality? Though I wanted to raise my hand every time, I worried what my companions might think. I prayed with the speaker to be released from the hold my addiction had on me. When we were dismissed for a bathroom break, I visited a book vendor and picked up ‘Every Man’s Battle,’ a book I had been hearing about. I didn’t put it down until I had finished reading it completely. For a guy who was still having trouble figuring out his Colossians from his Chronicles in his new 20-pound King James, this was the Holy Grail. The authors pulled Scripture out so a newbie could grasp it easily.

Among other things, God used that book and that event to show me that I could not change without His help. He showed me I need to own my actions and not hide under the ‘addictions’ or ‘I’m a product of my environment and upbringing’ or ‘this is how I was made’ blankets. He showed me how to take every thought captive to Christ (2 Corinthians 5), how submission to God gives me power to resist (James 4:7), that He empowers me to do anything (Philippians 4:13), and that through Him I have self-control (2 Timothy 1:7). He also showed me the power of forgiveness (Colossians 3:12-13), that He made me in His image (Genesis 1:27), and that my body is His temple, so I should honor it (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). The most lasting thing He has shown me is that light chases away darkness, and darkness no longer has any power when exposed to light (Ephesians 5:11-14).

He also brought to my attention a passage in 1 Corinthians, where Paul tells a church in an immoral city that there’s no depth of sin where we might fall that’s too deep for God to retrieve us. I could fit snugly within Paul’s Top Ten list from 1 Corinthians 6:9-10. I failed to qualify for admission to the kingdom. I couldn’t change that.

And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.

Some of us were wicked. Some of us were bound. Some of us were struggling under guilt, under shame, under failure. That is what we were.

But…

This is what we are. We have been washed – cleansed of sin -- by Jesus. We have been sanctified – set apart – for His use. We have been justified – given a ‘Not Guilty’ verdict – through Him.

We were deserving of eternal banishment from the presence of God. We were.

But…

Because of Him, we are clean.

Sometimes he chooses to remove our baggage instantly. What a cause for celebration! And sometimes He chooses to make us work for it. That’s where I am. Every day I have to start out with Him reminding me of where I’ve been and where I’m going. This passage is where I erect my Ebenezer stone. When people ask about my journey, I can show them this memorial. It’s not a memorial to sin or pride in my old ways, but a reminder that you can’t be so far down that God can’t bring you out. It’s a celebration of the distance God has brought me from where I had hidden.

I know where I’ve been. I know how I got here.

But…

I also know Who I’m following.