Different Worlds, Common Struggles, Amazing Grace

Every Monday we’ll post something to do with maintaining sexual purity. Hope it helps.

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Different Worlds, Common Struggles, Amazing Grace

How was your Friday night? That’s good. Mine? Oh, my Amish buddies and I just got together to chat over coffee about porn and such.

Yes. I was teaching The Game Plan seminar in Ohio, and my host, a wonderful Mennonite pastor with close ties to the Amish community in his area, arranged a pre-seminar meeting between myself and local Amish leaders to acquaint them with our work, talk about shared concerns, and generally get to know each other. I jumped at the chance, having admired much about these folks from a distance, and I treasure the evening we shared.

It was bumpy at first, as we were strangers from very different worlds. I’d never met an Amish person, though I’d seen Harrison Ford’s Witness and loved it, but I don’t think that counts. I hoped they’d like me, but contrasting their way of life to mine, I had doubts. They refuse the use of electricity, television, magazines and films, live in self-sufficient communities, drive horse drawn buggies, dress in the plainest of clothes and grow their beards out, while shaving off their moustaches. So this Camry driving, beard trimming, mustachioed computer-reliant Nordstrom-jacketed Law and Order fan entered the meeting keenly aware of his worldly ways. I felt like the Whore of Babylon.

They were relaxed, though, friendly and warm while greeting the California stranger, welcoming me and inquiring about my trip. I’d been warned that they might be leery of someone from the outside coming into their area, and that they may disapprove hugely of my approach, my concepts, my self. But if they had suspicions it didn’t show. As we were seated over coffee with the promise of snacks to come, I found it hard not to study their beards and clothing. (And I have to wonder if they didn’t have the same problem with me) Out of nowhere, though, lyrics from an old Jesus People song popped into my head –looking past the hair and straight into the eyes, people finally comin’ around! – and I refocused.

Their leader had asked me if he might open the meeting in prayer, then introduce me to the others by speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch, to help bridge the gap. I agreed, and while he introduced me I relished the cadences of his German dialect, hearing words I couldn’t understand punctuated by an occasional “Joe Dallas California speaker,” which had me wondering if he was saying “He looks pretty weird but let’s give the heathen Joe Dallas California Speaker a chance.” I shook the paranoia off and began speaking.

It was then that I realized how stupid I was being. While discussing my testimony and work, they listened attentively, eventually nodding and smiling and inserting occasional Amens. No topics were off limits, and despite the fact they didn’t use computers or DVD players and therefore didn’t have the same level of porn exposure, they made it clear they understood the power of lust, which comes from the human heart after all, needing no electronic device to get it going. They, too, were concerned about moral compromise; they, too, understood the conflict between the flesh and the spirit; they, too, recognized the need for accountability, mentoring, spiritual disciplines and grace while striving to be holy. On this point and, in fact, all points, they made it clear we had much in common. I may as well have been talking with a bunch of Southern California guys about the struggles we shared and the amazing grace we partook of. No holier than thou attitude on their part; no naïve ignorance regarding sexual sin; no pretense. They were supportive and encouraging, exhorting me to stay the course in my work and life. And I was immeasurably blessed.

Having a problem with sexual sin can leave you feeling alone and different, looked down on by others, outcast. I’m afraid that, all these years after having repented of such sin, I’m still shedding the defensiveness that went along with it. That’s what I took away from this meeting – a fresh reminder that I’m brother to every man who realizes his feelings could take him one way but who, by the grace of God, strives to go another. The sin you strive against may be different than mine, but the human condition is predictably and relentlessly the same.

It was on that point, in fact, that we all agreed before closing in prayer, shaking hands all around, then digging into some spectacular Amish treats for dessert. Looking around the table as we indulged, I saw differently formed beards but similar looks of boyish delight.

Some struggles are universal. But, praise God, so are some pleasures.