The Lights of Tenth Street

by Shaunti Feldhahn

  He saw some faces awakening to shock at his challenging tone, and he relaxed a little, giving a disarming smile.

  “Now you, like me, may think you’d never do that, but let me illustrate the point with a real-life example. I’m going to tell you a true story of a man I used to know. And I want you to be aware of your reactions as I go. What are you thinking in your heart of hearts as you hear this man’s tale? Because what you’re thinking as you hear the story is probably about the same thing you’d be thinking if you actually met him. And he would sense your reaction.

  “So here’s the story. This man professed to be a Christian from a young age. He got married, had kids, and eventually became the pastor of a large, prestigious church. He was sold-out for Christ, had a television program, wrote a couple of books, and ministered to thousands every week. He looked wonderful on the outside, and everyone loved and respected him. But on the inside he had a dirty secret. He was addicted to pornography.”

  In a flash, Steven saw a range of expressions on the faces before him. Distaste, condemnation, compassion … and flickers of guilt.

  “This man was so into the filth of pornography that he began lying to his wife and his staff! He’d lie about his whereabouts when he was off buying his trash at porn shops and bookstores. Then he actually hid those disgusting magazines in his church office, just so he could look at them during the day and satisfy his secret cravings.

  “Now let me ask you—what would you say about this man? Be honest. If you’re like most of us, your feelings at this point are not kind. In fact, they’re judgmental. ‘How dare he?’ you ask, with righteous anger. ‘There’s no way a man of God could behave in such a depraved way?’ ‘Is he even a Christian?’ ‘I would never do that!’ ‘He should be immediately removed as pastor.’

  “And on that last one, I’d probably agree with you, for reasons I’ll get to later. But let me push back a bit. You’ve heard about his behavior, now let me describe what was going on in his head and his heart. What if after telling you that story, I now explain that this pastor was anguished over his sin. He knew he was a sinner, and he desperately wanted to stop. He groaned for God’s help and mercy.”

  He looked up and cocked an eyebrow. “It perhaps makes a little difference to your indignant thoughts, but not much. I bet that at least half of you are thinking, ‘Who cares if he was anguished? He could stop if he really wanted to!’

  “That’s really the crux, isn’t it? We judge someone who’s sinning because we think, ‘They could stop if they really wanted to.’ And sometimes that’s probably right. And sometimes it may not be. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? When we ourselves don’t struggle with that particular problem, it’s easy to ‘be confident of our own righteousness and look down on everybody else.’

  “But should we? I say no, and for one much-overlooked reason. People often quote the passage where Jesus said, ‘Do not judge,’ but in the context it’s clear that Jesus commanded us not to judge hypocritically. ‘First take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.’ What I’m arguing today is that for us sinful humans, it is very, very difficult to judge purely and not hypocritically. We have an awful time seeing that log in our own eye, much less removing it. And you know something? Once we go through the pain, self-examination, humility, and heartache of removing that log, suddenly we really don’t feel like bashing the guy next door for his speck of sawdust.

  “We often think it’s our right—sometimes even our duty—to point out where others are sinning. Now, the Bible is very clear that there’s a distinction between trying to correct Christians who are in sin, and trying to correct those in the world.

  “In 1 Corinthians 5, Paul has some pretty strong words about this. ‘I have written you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral people—not at all meaning the people of this world who are immoral, or the greedy and swindlers, or idolaters. In that case you would have to leave this world. But now I am writing you that you must not associate with anyone who calls himself a brother, but is sexually immoral or greedy, an idolater or a slanderer, a drunkard or a swindler. With such a man do not even eat. What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside? God will judge those outside. “Expel the wicked man from among you.” ’

  “In other words, look first to the sin inside the body of Christ and deal with that. ‘Okay,’ you say, ‘I can do that.’ ” Pastor Steven rubbed his hands together in mock glee. “ ‘I’ve been waiting to sharpen my claws on that person who’s addicted to pornography; let me at him!’

  “Oh, but wait. Aren’t you forgetting something? Do you have a log that needs to be dealt with first? Hmm … let’s look at all the other things on this 1 Corinthians list besides sexual immorality. What’s next? Greed.”

  “Uh-oh …” Steven’s voice deepened portentously and despite themselves, the frozen congregation laughed.

  “Well, let’s skip greed. I know I worry about money a little too much, am a little too attached to my stuff. Let’s just go on down the list. Surely nothing else in the list applies to me, and I can get on with skewering that poor pornography addict.”

  Steven ran his finger down the list. “Idolatry. Doh!” Steven slapped his hand to his head. “Do I lean on anything other than God to sustain me? Do I ever rely on my intellect, my money, my marriage, my work ethic instead of my sovereign Lord? Okaaay, this exercise isn’t working out the way we thought it would, is it? Let’s just-move on down that list.

  “Slander. Do I ever gossip? Do I ever talk about someone behind his back? Do I make myself look good, but stir up dissent against others? Am I critical of my boss, my coworkers, or those in leadership, having never walked in their shoes?” Steven looked out over the congregation, wishing he could just for a moment be spiteful and call out a few names of those who had made his life miserable.

  “I think you get the point. What Jesus is saying is that we have to be constantly aware of our own sinfulness and at least be trying to deal with it in humility before we go confront others about their sin. That’s the solution for being ‘confident of our own self-righteousness and looking down on everybody else.’ And inside the church, there’s a clear biblical pattern for discipline that’s not designed to bash the sinner and make him or her feel awful—and make us feel self-righteous for pointing it out—but is designed to bring the sinner to repentance, to make that person whole again.

  “Jesus came to this earth not to make us feel good, but to save us from our sins. That was the whole point. And unless we come to a real understanding of our own sin, we will never fully understand or accept what our Lord and Savior did for us. We will continue to believe—however secretly—that we can work our way into heaven. That He owes us a place in heaven, because we’ve been a pretty darned good person, thank you very much.

  “But He owes us nothing. Sin is not just an immoral action—it is anything that separates us from God. And our very nature does that, day in, day out, every day of our lives. All we deserve, truly, is to be lost in the darkness for all eternity. We are more sinful than we ever dare realize. But, thank our Lord, that is not the end of the story. We’re also more loved and forgiven than we ever dared hope! That’s the Good News, the message we carry to the world. That through the blood of Jesus, in spite of ourselves, we have been redeemed. God loves us so much that all we have to do is accept that redemption for ourselves, to accept the trade that has already been made: Jesus’ life for ours.”

  Steven stood straight and tall, his eyes flashing, feeling the surge of the Holy Spirit, the breathtaking love and power of the Almighty in that place. People were sitting forward in their seats, hardly breathing, captivated. It was electric. And it was time.

  He turned a few pages in his notes, letting peace settle again upon the crowd.

  “So now, let’s return to that story I told you at the outset. How would you deal with the pastor who’s living both in
secret sin and in secret grief at his behavior? Put aside for the moment whether he should be pastoring the church while in that sin—as Corinthians made clear, he shouldn’t be. But think again, in your heart of hearts, how he should be dealt with personally, as a man.

  “Suppose, for that purpose, he is not a pastor, but a fellow member of your congregation. A well-loved, respected man with a wife and kids. He secretly indulges in graphic Internet pornography by night, and comes to church on Sunday morning. What to do?

  “I can see that some of you are still skeptical that such a man should be treated gently. So I have something to tell you before you make a judgment.”

  He drew himself up, cast a last glance at his wife, and cast himself on the mercy of the Lord.

  “I was that man.”

  He waited while the words sank in, while the astonished gasps resounded around the congregation, while the gasps turned to frozen stillness, all eyes staring.

  “Less than ten years ago, my friends, I had a dreadful secret: I struggled with impure thoughts, impure desires. I was in bondage to pornography. I fought it with every ounce of my strength, but time … and again … it conquered me.”

  He looked out at the dear, well-loved faces, and the tears began to come. He described how he hated himself, wanted to stop, wept before the Lord. But always in secret, and always unable to stop it on his own. He described how it nearly destroyed his marriage, how his wife uncovered his web of lies and deceit. And he described how, through the intervention of one divinely appointed friend—another pastor, who himself had had that struggle—he was brought slowly, slowly along the path to deliverance and healing.

  Steven wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “It is impossible to overstate the importance of compassion and healing for those caught in this sin—like many secret sins. The very fact that it’s secret keeps it in a dark place, where Satan rules and God’s light cannot shine. But I’m telling you this story today, and revealing years of secret shame, because I know—I know—that many in this congregation have this same struggle. It isn’t discussed, but it’s there.

  “And now, I’m speaking to my brothers out there … and to their wives and those that love them. There is hope! There is healing! But you must confess your sin, one to another, and seek help and accountability. Yes, it’s hard to set aside your pride. But there is no pride worth being held in bondage by Satan himself, tormented in the darkness. The pain will pass, and the freedom will be beyond belief. There may very well be consequences—there often are consequences of willful sin—but God will be with you every step of the way. And you will finally be free.

  “I’m confessing this to you, my dear friends, to provide an example of one very important principle: Everyone has a story. The next time you feel inclined to judge someone, examine not only yourself and your logs, but your assumptions about them. Is that unbeliever on drugs? Who knows what they have gone through. Is that woman a constant, shameless gossip? Who knows what secret insecurities she’s hiding. Is that driver on the highway rude and aggressive? Who knows what in his past has caused that rage? People usually don’t just wake up one day and decide to become a jerk or a druggie or a gossip. There are reasons. And although those reasons do not allow us to excuse them, they force us to try to understand them.

  “Jesus was able to minister His unconditional, nonjudgmental love to prostitutes because He loved them, and He knew that every one of them had a story. They didn’t just wake up one day and decide to sell their bodies and flaunt God’s law. There were reasons why they fell, perhaps even reasons that would make our toes curl should we hear them. We too can have true love for the unlovable if we—with the Lord’s help—come to an awareness of our own sin, our own humility, and of the reasons for compassion to the lost and hurting among us.”

  Steven closed his Bible. It was done.

  And just as suddenly, he was attacked by a massive wave of fear. What was he thinking, sharing something so personal—something sexual and depraved—from God’s pulpit?

  He tried to motion the worship director on to the last song, but he was frozen. They would kick him out. Another church, another family, lost. He forced himself to glance up at the congregation, the many faces, and his eyes swam with tears. This was crazy. He had to get himself under control.

  And suddenly, someone stood. A couple, holding hands tightly, in the middle of the congregation. Sherry and Doug.

  Everyone’s heads swiveled around, and there were low murmurs.

  Steven could feel his tears hot on his cheeks, stunned at the brave action, the brave salute from faithful friends.

  And then another man stood. A single man, gripping the back of his chair. Then another couple, and a woman, and a divorced single mom. Then his wife stood.

  Dozens were rising to their feet. Someone began to applaud, and soon half the congregation was on their feet, applauding.

  Steven could hardly see through his tears. He gestured his wife up to the stage, and she bounded up like a twenty-year-old and hugged him close.

  He kept an arm around his wife and motioned for silence, wiping away the wetness from his face. The whole congregation was standing, silent, still.

  “Thank you.” Steven looked across the stage and spoke in a choked voice to the music director. “I would like to change the last song, please. There’s only one that seems appropriate right now.”

  And so in that place, the bride was awakened as the poignant strains of “Amazing Grace” floated to the heavens, every word heard and sung anew.

  Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me!

  I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see …

  THIRTY-SIX

  The voices were warm and cheerful, the smiles—as far as she could tell—genuine. Linda Hanover stuck close by Angela Dugan’s side as the younger woman maneuvered her way through the church lobby, introducing her as she went.

  “Nice to meet you, Linda … Welcome … Good to have you with us today … Hope you enjoy the service …”

  Linda could only smile and nod, hopelessly lost as to names and faces, uncomfortable in the unfamiliar environment. She was wearing the one nice dress she owned, although Angela had assured her that no one would care what she had on. She followed Angela to where her husband had saved them two seats. The two women sat down just as the small choir began to sing.

  It was happening again. As the pastor preached, and as the choir sang its final song, Linda choked up and tried to wipe her eyes on her sleeve so no one would see. This love, this new life, was overpowering. How had she missed it all these years?

  Her thoughts turned several hundred miles away, to Ronnie alone in the big city, and to who-knew-what temptations and struggles her beautiful daughter must face every day.

  If only she would come to know You, Lord. Please, Lord …

  And suddenly, without knowing why, her tears were no longer for herself.

  The music was pumping and Ronnie’s night was in full swing when Marco grabbed her on the fly. He had one of the other dancers by his side, her eyes glazed from an excess of cocaine.

  “We’ve had another request for the girls to double up on stage. Extra five hundred dollars tonight for the takers. Tina’s in. Want it?”

  “No thanks. Not my thing.”

  “Fine.”

  Marco hurried over to another girl, who gave an eager nod. He gave some quick instruction to the two dancers, and they disappeared backstage.

  Within moments, the stage went black, and the DJ announced the next act. Ronnie turned away as the two girls appeared onstage and every man in the audience began to hoot and cheer.

  School would start in a few weeks, and she still needed some extra tuition money, but she would just have to work extra hard for it. A five-hundred-dollar windfall for the five-minute act wasn’t worth it.

  She took the opportunity for a short rest and changed into a different outfit. She paused in front of the mirror in the empty dressing room,
and looked at the view. She had been working out almost every day, and it showed. She looked and felt fit.

  Tiffany came breezing in and began touching up her makeup. The two girls gossiped for a moment, comparing notes. Ronnie was again narrowly beating Tiffany’s take—the fifth night in a row.

  As the girls went back on the floor, Ronnie saw Marco gesture Tiffany into his office. A few minutes later, Tiffany reappeared in a stunning silvery sheath dress beside a table of four men having some sort of party. The little group headed toward one of the private rooms. Ronnie growled in good-natured annoyance. Her friend was going to beat her take this evening after all.

  The night wound down, and only a few dancers were left on the floor. The small private party had dispersed, except for one middle-aged man whose eyes followed Tiffany’s every move around the room.

  Ronnie watched her friend finish yet another table dance for him and shook her head. The man was short, fat, and had a comb-over, but he appeared to be a generous tipper.

  “Ronnie!” Tiffany appeared breathlessly by her side. “I can’t believe it! Did you see that? He gave me a thousand dollars!”

  “Wow! Jackpot.”

  “And that’s not all.” Tiffany winked at her. “He wants me to go out with him.”

  “Really?” Ronnie peeked over her friend’s shoulder and shuddered slightly. “Go for it, girl. Too bad he’s not much to look at.”

  “Who cares? He’s loaded. We’re going to go get a middle-of-the-night breakfast somewhere right now. I have to kiss Marco for setting it up!”

  “Marco? What do you mean?”

  “Oh, he knew the guy or something. He convinced Wade to get the private room and now he’s smitten.”

  “Wade? Great name, at least.”

  Tiffany turned her head to check on her customer. “I better go. This could be the big time, Ronnie. I don’t think I’ll be back home tonight.”

  “Be careful, okay? Call me if you have … you know … any problems.”