Letter to an Atheist
It sounds weird for me to tell you to pray, because to you, it may seem like speaking words into an empty room…
It sounds weird for me to tell you to pray, because to you, it may seem like speaking words into an empty room…
At first glance, it seemed like a typical crucifix painting. There hung Jesus on the cross, bleeding and ashamed.
But then you looked a little lower.
I fear that my conception of God may be too small.
I fear more for those who think theirs is sufficient.
Your body was in my arms but you were not.
Many of you at one point or another will have a friend come to you and confess that once again, they have given in to the demonic machine of pornography, and it helps to have a response ready. Here are some traits I have seen that helped me when I confessed to others. They did not shame me, but they did not let the sin go unacknowledged either.
According to legend, when an Ancient Greek died, his friends and relatives did not examine his possessions or his wealth. They did not judge his life based on his merits, his achievements, or his social status. They asked only one question…
“I shouldn’t have even come out here tonight,” she cried, shivering in Chicago’s winter. Maggie had come out tonight looking for a hookup.
Am I the only one
who feels distant from God
more often than near?
I want all the ‘benefits’ without the effort of actually getting to know someone. To hear her deepest fears and insecurities, as well as her favorite movies and books. To cook up some inside jokes and share some memories. To get lost together in a big city, or run out of gas somewhere in the badlands.
Because what I have found to be one of the absolute worst effects of porn is that it numbs me to reality. To the good and the bad. It files down the sharpened points of agony when suffering comes into my life, but it also curtails the heights of joy when there is reason to rejoice.




