In my time-controlled forays on the internet, to use it for the healthy tool it can be, despite whatever filters or blocks I may use, I will inevitably come across some image that appeals to my sexaholism. Ad men, using all their dark arts, have conjured up a mousetrap for me.
Despite the luridness of the image, it's interesting to me how pitiably, boyishly and naively my heart reacts to it. It's as if God has presented me with my Eve. My heart vibrates and I say, "This is flesh of my flesh, bone of my bones." It's a strange love and joy. But if I open myself and let the image in, the lust virus comes in with it, boots out Love, and zombifies me. Then it's bye-bye to freedom, joy and integrity.
When I was given the grace to choose sobriety, here's the question that came to me: How many more times will I pay for gift-wrapped empty boxes from Lust? I already had a warehouse full of thousands.
Each one was a trick box, which exploded when I opened it, or contained a piece of coal, or something that sprang out and hit me in the face - always arousing self-hatred at my gullibility. Lust was in the background cynically preparing a few hundred more trick boxes, all of which he knew I would buy. If the wrapping paper is glamorous enough, I'll buy anything.
With God's grace, I will tell myself, Don't buy the trick box again!