I've just returned from yet another two week absence. One week back in Camp Siloam, and another week in beautiful, mostly sunny Colorado. And God has yet again been at work in me.
This might be as tough to write about as it was to do, I'm not sure. But God's done a wonder in me and through me, and if I didn't tell anyone, it'd be a crime.
If you know me, you probably know I was dating the guy of my dreams since November of last year. Kyle, the sweetest sweetie you'll ever meet. The adorkable swimmer/tuba player who stole my heart on an away-game band bus (yeah, I realize how cheesy that is.). The one who never angered me, never fought with me, never disappointed me. The one who always made me laugh, always made me smile on dark days, always cheered me up when I thought I'd never be cheery again.
What you may not know is how totally messed up our relationship made me.
I'd had it shoved in my brain my whole life: do not have sex before marriage. But other than that, I'd received no Christianly dating advice. No one told me how to find a good guy, how to stick with him, how to honor God with him, how to behave with him. Which, inevitably, set me up for disaster.
Kyle may have been the nicest guy I've ever dated, but that did not make him the best by any means. Yes, he was a "Christian", but he was the type who was dragged by his mother to an occasional Sunday service, who judged the youth group on the games they played, and liked the church because of the food they served. Not entirely terrible things, but since I was so involved in my youth group, I thought I had it in me to "save" him from his somewhat wicked ways and bring him closer to God.
I'd heard of girls trying to do this with boyfriends before, and I'd heard plenty of times that it does not work out. He brings you down instead. For some reason, though, I got it in my head that I could do it. Since he wasn't a devil-worshiping, crack-smoking heathen, I thought I had potential to work with. Maybe I did, but I sure didn't work with it appropriately.
In fact, nothing about us was appropriate.
We spent an unhealthy amount of time together. I texted him constantly. I saw him in between almost every single class during school and shared two with him, usually spent the minute school let out till 11:30 curfew (though most times were pushed to a little after 11:45) together on Friday nights, and spent all Saturday together. Then Sunday morning, he'd sleep in or get dragged to the local "hang out" type church, and I'd get up at seven and sit through my church trying to focus on God, but my mind was always pulled back to him. Back to his upstairs room, back to the seat of his car, back to the couch in my living room. God would smack me upside the head every Sunday and Wednesday, and tell me that I shouldn't be hanging around that boy like that, we shouldn't be as physically involved as we were. I'd go to the altar, promise God I'd put a stop to it all, get up and go on my merry way.
And the next week, I'd do the same exact thing again.
The thing was, I knew what I was doing all along. I knew it was wrong to be alone like we were. But I'd convinced myself for so long that what we were doing together wasn't all that bad. I mean, it's not like we were having sex. I never crossed that line. And as long as I wasn't crossing that line, I told myself, we could do pretty much whatever else. Which was so incredibly wrong.
A few times, his boy-ish-ness would get the better of him, and he'd try to go farther than I wanted. For the most part, I'd try and fight him off, and he would always back off if I told him it was too much. But for a while, I would just...let it happen. Let him do what he wanted, because I was terrified that he wouldn't like me anymore if I didn't let him. I wanted to be in a relationship so badly that I compromised my morals for a silly boy with a charming smile and greedy hands. I just wanted to be normal, to be loved. He gave me that. And I gave up my values for him. And I am so, so ashamed to admit that. It's still embarrassing to write about it. I hope you don't think less of me; I was trapped in a sin that warped my thinking.
The physical side of our relationship aside, he also become an idol to me. I never skipped out on actual church, but a few times there'd be extracurriculars that my youth group friends would go to, and I'd ditch them to "watch a movie" with Kyle. I valued time with him over school work, over friends, and most of all, over God. I walked into church every Sunday for nearly eight months unprepared to worship because I was still consumed with Kyle and what we'd done the night before. He became a god to me, and I worshiped him and what he thought of me rather than the Savior who truly loved me.
I guess in summary, it was doomed from the start. I was consumed with lust, and ignored all the times God tried to give me a way out.
During S-CORE, on Saturday morning's two hour quiet time, God didn't waste any time. I was reading in Luke 14, where the guy is having a big supper, and tries to invite all his friends over to eat with him, but they all give him lame excuses not to come. And that's when it hit me. I'd been giving God the lamest excuse ever. I didn't want to break up with Kyle because he was so nice, sweet, and considerate, but Kyle was the reason that I couldn't grow or change or do anything for Him. And I had to get rid of him, because he was only holding me back from what I could be.
This all hit me in the span of thirty or so minutes, and I spent the rest of the time sobbing in my bunk. How was I supposed to do this? He was already so integrated in my life. Our parents were friends, he was close to my younger brother, my friends were so supportive of us dating, all our teachers knew. He was everywhere. How was I supposed to just drop him?
The hardest part, I think, was that I wouldn't be able to see him to break up with him for another three weeks after I'd had my revelation. When I left S-CORE, I went home and kept myself busy to keep from thinking about it all. Then I went back up to Siloam for church camp, and I was able to keep distracted until Thursday. I woke up that morning knowing that the next day, after I left and unloaded my stuff from the church bus, I'd have to face him and all that I'd been running from so long.
I moped around most of that day, depression hitting me harder than it had in a long while. I tried my best to smile and laugh with the friends I'd made and wouldn't be able to see until next summer, but beneath it all I was crumbling with the anxiety of the heartache yet to come.
At worship that night, the speaker talked about Peter and how he denied Jesus. After all his zeal and dedication to Him, he slipped up, just like Jesus told him he would. The speaker then took us into the book of Acts, and showed us that Peter eventually stood in the same spot where he denied Jesus and proclaimed His name to people persecuting him. I don't think I'm explaining it properly, but hearing the message and being counselled by Bethany helped to lift that dark cloud of fear looming over me and allowed me to see the hope I had in God. I could go back and face my failure. I could go home and take a stand for Christ. I could stop caring about the fact that other people would think I was crazy to break up with such a "good" guy. I could do anything now that I was free from the sin that enslaved me.
Friday night, I drove out to his house. I told him I'd changed, and he said he could tell. I told him I couldn't spit in God's face anymore. I couldn't be a hypocrite anymore. I couldn't date him anymore.
He said he totally understood, and after a few tears mutually shed and a good-bye hug, I drove away. I did it. I was free.
Now, I'd like to say that I was strong and didn't cry over this, but I had to pull over twice on the drive home because, well, it wasn't pretty. It hurt worse than anything I'd ever experienced, like someone had ripped a hole wide open in my heart. My friends from S-CORE prayed for me and talked me through it when I got home, and they helped and continue to help me more than I will ever be able to thank them for.
I'm still nursing that wound in my heart. I still see bits of him in almost everything, everywhere, but it stings less everyday. Kyle might have left a giant gaping hole in my chest, but God was quick to move into his place and fill the spot that was left. I don't think I've ever been this content with my life or with my walk with Christ. I know I still got some places I need to work on, but it is so much easier to work when I'm not being tied down by a shameful sin.
Please, keep praying for me, and I'll do the same for you. And let me just say, if He can take me and make something good of all the mess I've been in, there is always, always hope for you, because, like I've learned, our God is an awesome, forgiving, and loving God, and He can and will get you through anything.
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