The Lights of Tenth Street

by Shaunti Feldhahn

  “Have you told Sherry?”

  “No! It would kill her. I can’t tell her.”

  There was a long pause, then Eric looked Doug in the eye. “In a way, you’ve broken the covenant with your wife. You must tell her, and you must make it right.”

  Doug’s face crumbled, and Eric thought he was going to cry.

  “I can’t, Eric, I can’t. She’ll be so hurt. She’s been struggling so much with her self-image ever since the kids were born … it would kill her … I can’t. I can’t!”

  “I’m sure there are a lot of things to consider, Doug—consequences you’ll have to deal with. But it’s not just Sherry that I’m thinking of. I’m thinking of you. You have a problem that you’ve kept hidden for many years, and you need to get it out into the light and deal with it.”

  “I’ll stop. I’ll stop right now and never go back. Maybe running into you was just the kick in the pants I needed. I promise you, before God—”

  “Doug.” Eric’s voice was stern. “That’s not going to work. Oh, I have no doubt that you mean it now, and may even be able to stay pure for another couple of years. But what about the rest of your life? What about three years from now, the next time something happens to trigger it? You need to figure out what drives you toward this addiction and deal with it, so it holds no power over you, ever again.”

  “Hold on a second!” Doug pushed his chair back and pointed his finger at Eric. “I’m not addicted to sex. I’ve never been unfaithful to Sherry, and never will be!”

  “I know you mean that. But I bet you would’ve sworn, years ago, that you’d never be wearing a disguise, going into a strip club, either.”

  Doug was shaking with indignation, but he settled back into his chair.

  “It’s not the same thing. Not the same thing at all.”

  “Let me give you an example of an addict,” Eric said. “A drug addict usually starts off small—something like marijuana to get high. It takes his mind off things, lets him blow off steam. Then one day he finds that the same amount doesn’t do so much for him anymore, and he has to take more, and then more to get the same kick. Eventually, marijuana isn’t enough, and he goes for the harder stuff. Crack, maybe, or a club drug. He escalates. These, too, work well for a while, but he again needs more and more. He starts arranging his life around the ability to indulge in his addiction, starts lying to those he loves, to arrange cover stories. He doesn’t want to stop anymore.

  “If he has a conscience—say, perhaps, he’s a Christian—he feels bad about this and shame every time he indulges. In church on Sunday, he cries and asks God for forgiveness. He promises the Lord he’ll never, ever do it again. And maybe he stays clean for a while; maybe even a few years. But whatever it is in him that led him to go for the drugs in the first place—a hole in his heart, a need for excitement, adventure, whatever—hasn’t gone away. He needs to be healed, to be delivered from his bondage.”

  Doug stared at him, unspeaking.

  Finally, Eric cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

  “I never—” Doug cleared a hoarse throat. “I never thought of it like other addictions.”

  “Well, it can be. I don’t know if your case is a true addiction or not; I’m no expert. But at the very least, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’ve been unsuccessful at changing on your own. You are, to use the Bible’s term, ‘a slave to sin.’ We need to address this.” Eric looked at his watch and winced. “But this is not the time or the place. Tell you what. I’m in town this week. Why don’t you meet me for lunch tomorrow?” He named a place and a time. “I’ve got a couple of hours I can squeeze in.”

  Doug looked down at the table. “I don’t know.…”

  “We have to talk, Doug. You need to do this. For Sherry’s sake and yours.”

  Doug slowly stood to his feet and gave a brief nod. “Okay.”

  “Good.” Eric reached over and clasped his friend’s arm. “And don’t forget to take off that silly mustache. You’ll scare Sherry half to death if she sees you crawl into bed like that.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Despite a sleepless night, Doug was up and ready for work before Sherry or the kids woke, kissing her sleeping head on his way out of the bedroom. He didn’t want to answer any questions, didn’t think he could stand to watch her sleepy eyes search his soul.

  His heart hurt as he drove toward the office, the roads swift in the early-morning darkness. He loved Sherry so much. What was he doing to her? What kind of man was he? He parked his car in the secure lot and rode the elevator to the executive floor.

  He passed the COO’s office, and waves of shame rose like bile in his throat. It was all his fault. Everything that haunted him was caused by his weakness, his sin, his spinelessness. He was nothing, was less than a man. He’d always known it, and now he’d been found out.

  He approached the wide windows at the end of the hall by his office, and suddenly he saw himself wrenching them open and flinging himself into the blackness. What hope was there? He could never change. They would find out what manner of man he was. All his years of desperate pretense; trying, pretending to be a good husband, good father, good businessman, good Christian. He would be revealed as the imposter he was. He’d be put out of the church, would be ostracized from everyone he loved. And Sherry would leave him. And he’d never see his kids again.

  He headed toward the window, picturing the long fall, the peace of death. It would be over so quickly. So quickly.

  O God …

  Another picture rose in his mind: his wife in his arms, giving herself to him willingly, gleefully. Tears sprang to his eyes. Her hair, her soft skin, her touch demonstrating that she loved him, desired him.

  Doug veered into his office and closed the door, falling on his hands and knees on the carpet.

  “But I’ve failed her, Lord.” He was sobbing aloud and his tears wet the carpet. “I’ve broken our covenant. And I can’t stop. O God, help me stop. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me.”

  Distantly, he heard his phone ring, a surreal sound at six in the morning.

  Answer it, Doug.

  He looked up, almost expecting to see someone in the room, so clear had been the message. He reached toward the phone, dashing tears away, trying to sound seminormal.

  “Hello?”

  “Doug?” It was Sherry, her voice high with worry. “Doug, what are you doing? Are you okay? I just had the most horrible dream, and I woke up and you weren’t here! What are you doing at the office? Are you okay?”

  Doug felt great tears leaking from his eyes, and his voice came out very small. “I’m so glad you called, Sherry. I’m so glad you called.”

  “What’s wrong?” She sounded near panic. “I had a dream of you falling from a window!”

  Doug closed his eyes, thanking God for His mysterious ways. “Sweetheart …” He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak quickly. “Something is wrong, but I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Tonight can you maybe get a sitter so we can go out on a date to talk?”

  There was a strained silence, and Doug could tell his wife was struggling not to ask, not to jump in with question after question.

  “I would come home and talk about it now, but there are things I have to do first. I know it’s hard to ask you to wait so long, but … will you do it? For me?”

  “Okay.” Sherry’s voice was stretched, strange. “I’ll wait until tonight. Just promise me, Doug … promise me …” He heard her crying on the other end of the line, heard the desperate love in her voice. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

  “I won’t, I promise you. I never will. I love you, honey. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Okay.” The small voice again. “I love you.”

  When she had gone, Doug sat on the floor for a long time, his mind turning.

  An hour later, he heard the first sounds of the office coming to life. Secretaries bustled outside, phones started ringing. A normal Monday morning. For everyone except him.
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  O God, let this be the day of deliverance …

  Doug left a message for Mary that he would be in and out of the office all day, had some important things to do, and did not want to be disturbed—no phone calls, no meetings. He asked her to cancel all his appointments and give the excuse that he wasn’t feeling well.

  That, at least, is the truth …

  When the clock hit seven-thirty, he picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Eric Elliott.”

  “Eric … it’s Doug. You’re in early.”

  “I don’t know why. I just woke up earlier than normal and decided to get a head start on the day. What’s up?”

  “Can we … can we meet earlier than lunch?”

  “We can meet whenever you want. This is actually a pretty light day for me, and … wait … Looks like one of my main clients cancelled a meeting this morning. I guess the Lord had other plans. When do you want to get together?”

  Doug stood at his desk. “How about right now?”

  For the next two hours, the two men walked around and around the nearby park. Doug confessed everything, including things he’d held back the night before. The shame was still there, but with every lap, every confession, it was slowly being superceded by an inexpressible relief. All the dark things were being brought to light, and he felt the first sense of freedom.

  He fell silent, and the two men walked a full lap without speaking. Eric appeared to be deep in thought. Or deep in prayer.

  Finally, he looked up and stopped walking. He faced Doug head-on. “I’m proud of you, brother.”

  Tears again filled Doug’s eyes. He dashed them away. Why was he such a crybaby this morning?

  “I’ve got nothing to be proud of.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re taking the difficult step, the courageous step, of confessing your sins ‘one to another,’ as the Bible says.” Eric started walking again, and Doug kept pace. “But I frankly don’t know enough about this stuff to help you beyond being a sounding board and an accountability partner. And you need more help than I can give. You also need good advice about how to approach Sherry, and I just don’t know the answer to that. But I know someone who does.”

  Doug looked down. “I just don’t want everyone to know.…”

  “It’s not ‘everyone’; it’s our senior pastor.”

  “What?”

  Eric nodded. “Many years ago, before he was a pastor, he used to counsel married couples who were in trouble. And he is compassionate because he’s had his own share of heartache.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well … do you remember hearing about that first church he pastored? They had that horrible split because he wanted to start an AIDS ministry. He was tossed out of the church he started and poured his life into because some highly ‘religious’ people thought he was condoning a homosexual lifestyle.”

  “I remember someone talking about that church split.” Doug’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize he’d been fired.”

  “Fired and humiliated.” Eric walked a few paces, as if weighing what he should say. “Few people know this, but Pastor and I have had lunch every few weeks for the last two years. We’ve essentially become accountability buddies, and I’ve gotten to know him so much better. That event hurt him so deeply, it has taken him years to get over it. And to a certain degree, he still isn’t over it. He has felt like he should just keep his head down, be a good shepherd to his flock, and not rock the boat. No controversy; just keep everything on an even keel.” Eric’s voice dropped a note, and he shook his head. “A shallow keel.”

  Doug was at a loss for words. “Then why do you suggest that I—”

  “Because he’s a good man, and a good counselor. Not all pastors are, you know. But he’s been trained in marriage counseling, and I also know he’s overcome his own personal … challenges in this area.”

  Doug’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Eric held up a hand. “I can’t say any more than that. What he chooses to share is up to him. But I think we should go see him. Right away, if he has the time.”

  Eric pulled a cell phone from his pocket and gave him a questioning look. Doug nodded, and Eric punched in the numbers and put the phone to his ear, his voice small as he turned away.

  “Lord, he’s so busy … let him be available.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  The silence in the pastor’s office was palpable.

  Doug Turner had finished his story in a rush, rarely looking up, confessing to his senior pastor all the things he had kept hidden for so long. Now he sat with elbows on his knees, staring at the floor, uncertain what would come from across the silent desk.

  When he could no longer stand the stillness, he looked up. Pastor Steven was no longer sitting in his chair. He was standing at a nearby floor-length window, looking down at the large playground that served the church school.

  Doug could hear the distant chaos of recess in full swing. His children were probably out there. Sherry might be in this building at the same moment, helping with the school as she often did. He felt curiously detached, waiting for whatever censure was coming.

  Pastor Steven turned from the window and sat down again at his desk.

  “Doug, I’m so sorry.”

  Doug let out a breath he hadn’t remembered holding.

  “What do we do now, Pastor?”

  “What do you mean?” His voice seemed far away, his gaze distant.

  “I know you have every right to remove me from the youth ministry and all the other positions I hold. But none of that’s important to me anymore. Nothing matters except Sherry and my kids. Please. Please, Steve. Can you help me? Can you help me keep my family?” His pastor’s face became a blur as he dissolved into tears.

  Steven stood and came around the front of his desk. He went down on one knee beside Doug’s chair and put a hand on his shoulder. On the other side, Eric had a hand on his back. The two men waited while Doug regained control. Doug finally looked up and saw that his pastor’s distant expression had vanished.

  “Brother.” Steven’s voice was tight with emotion. “Are you under the impression that I’m going to impose some sort of harsh church discipline on you? No, Doug. You’re a courageous man; courageous to admit to a problem that many of us never discuss; courageous to want to do something about it. And although I don’t have all the answers, I do have some. I cannot tell you what’s going to happen with your family; only the Lord knows that. And there are consequences to our sin. But I know that whatever happens, the Lord loves you—and your family—dearly and He will be with you through this journey. And I believe that He will honor your efforts to set things straight with Sherry. I hope He will also set you free from the prison of this blackmail, although it sounds like you may have already made some illicit choices that will need rectifying.”

  Pastor Steven pulled up another chair in front of his desk and sat close to the other two men.

  “I need to make a confession to you. One that I have already made to Eric. The reason that I’m able to speak to this issue is because I’ve gone through the same struggle, and God brought me and my wife through it. Oh, every man is different, and so is each man’s struggle. But yes, very much the same. I progressed from softcore magazines that I could buy in the bookstore to driving to hard-core porn stores miles from where I lived and worked, always terrified that I would run into someone I knew. When I was away on business, it was movies on the hotel cable. I visited a few strip clubs, but for me it was the pictures, the magazines that were the trap to my mind, my heart. I was truly a slave to sin.

  “And it wasn’t just on my personal time, either.” Pastor Steven sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I snuck the magazines into this office, hiding them under stacks of paper in the locked drawer in my desk.

  “When God delivered me and began healing me and my marriage, I resolved to keep my life an open book. No locked cabinets, no locked and cluttered drawers. Everyone—my secretary, my wife, my staff—has
access to any of my things at any time.”

  Doug felt color rising as his mind leaped to a tally of his many locked drawers and cabinets.

  “And look—see my computer?”

  Doug stared at the pastor’s computer monitor, and then glanced back at the closed office door. The monitor was positioned on the L-shaped desk so that anyone coming into the room could see the screen.

  “If I could’ve put a big glass window in my door, I would have. But in my position, I do have closed-door meetings that must remain private.

  “So, Doug, you asked where we go from here. Well, it’s not going to be a simple process. You’ve broken Sherry’s trust, and she will very likely feel betrayed. Especially with the complication of the blackmail, which has put your family at even greater risk. You need to be prepared to work very hard at regaining her trust and showing her that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to show your love to her as she deals with the ramifications of this. I can walk you through some ideas, but in the end, it’ll be between you, Sherry, and whoever you choose to be your accountability partners.”

  “Accountability—”

  “Surely you’re familiar with the concept?”

  “Well, yes, it’s just … I don’t want everyone to know.”

  “Understandable. But I’m talking a small group of men; perhaps just Eric and another friend or two. Men who have the right to ask you anything, at any time, about what you are involved in and what you are doing. Men you can confess something to if you slip, so that they can pray for you. Just having a group like that will help a great deal in your motivation to stay pure.

  “But your willingness to be honest isn’t enough, Doug. You must realize that Sherry is probably going to want more than that. Let me give you some insight into how she might feel once you talk to her about this.”

  “I know how she’ll feel!”

  “Do you?” The pastor’s voice was sad. “Remember, she’ll be in a very different place than you.”

  “What do you mean?”