I know that the editors discourage essays about religion. My essay certainly has definite religious overtones. However, I focused primarily on the Steps and how I was able to accept the principles embodied in them. I am sure you are aware of the skepticism with which Twelve Step programs are looked upon by the more conservative Christian Churches. However, if you only knew (and you probably do) the silent suffering that goes on in these groups, you would see the need for my kind of essay.

After completing my first four Steps, I wrote this essay describing my first faltering steps in the program. I know that there are others who wrestle with the same kinds of concerns that I had. Therefore, if they read my story, they might be more likely to take advantage of the help that God wants to give them through Sexaholics Anonymous.

STEP ONE: We admitted we were powerless over lust—that our lives had become unmanageable.

As I began my Twelve Step journey, I hesitated. I had to come to terms with the idea that I was even addicted in the first place. Addiction was for those who were not Christians. Addiction was not something that was supposed to happen to a person who was saved, born again, regenerated by the Spirit of God, possessed a new nature, imbued with eternal life, who believed in Jesus. All my Christian life, I had been taught that salvation freed us from the power of sin over our lives.

I told myself that my problem was not addiction. My problem was that I lacked the necessary willpower and commitment to Jesus. That was why I could not or, rather, would not stop committing sexual sin. What I needed was revival and a return to my first love of Jesus in order to repent of my attachment to lust. For me to admit to addiction would be like denying everything I believed about Christianity.

Besides, “addiction” was the excuse people used to escape responsibility for their actions. Weak-minded, irresponsible people needed a psychological cover for their sin so they called it an addiction. Or better yet, they called it a disease. What psychobabble.

As I worked in the Church leading congregational singing and music, teaching a youth Sunday school class, and being a deacon, I made a conscious decision to give myself over to my lust. I wanted to burn those images into my mind to such a degree that whenever I closed my eyes (even during prayer!), I wanted to have my sin flash before my eyes.

Understanding the obvious tension between my religious views and my behavior, I forced myself to compartmentalize my life. I gave up trying to live a victorious personal life. However, since I was involved in Christian ministry, I could not let my sin interfere with what I was doing for God. My Christian ministry would be separate from my personal life. As long as I agreed with God that what I was doing was a sin and confessed and forsook it every time I did it, I believed I could continue as before.

My life got complicated when I was discovered. My wife found out about my sin. In fact, she discovered my sin on several occasions. Each time, she would become angry and express hurt, betrayal, and a loss of trust. I was moved by this and promised her each time she discovered my sin that I would never do it again. Sound familiar? If I could not keep my promise to God, did I really expect to keep my promise to my wife? To make matters worse, the intensity of my sexual sin increased. I began crossing lines that I swore I would never cross no matter how much I indulged my lust.

In 2002, my wife once again discovered my sin. Finally, at the limit of her ability to deal with my sin, she threw me out of the house and said that if I did not seek help, she would divorce me. I went to live with a sympathetic friend. I sought counsel from a trusted pastor friend. He was well-meaning and did help to a degree; however, once I maneuvered my way back home, I was at it again.

Don’t get me wrong. I repented, confessed in front of my Church, and had everyone pray for me to finally live the kind of life I was supposed to be living. With tears, I firmly committed to living a life consistent with my religious beliefs. I would finally be a different man. I truly meant it. My wife also told me that if she ever found out that I was indulging my sin again, she would file for divorce.

I held myself for a time but I soon returned to my sin with a renewed vigor. Unfortunately, this time, instead of my wife discovering my sin, my sixteen-year-old daughter stumbled across it. She was devastated. She told my wife, who went ballistic. It was only when I threatened to force her to split our assets if she carried out her threat to file for divorce that she relented. However, I had to sleep on the couch and act as if I had indeed moved out. The anger that hung in the atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife. My wife said that I was a pathetic addict who needed help.

It was at this time that I thought that perhaps I did have some kind of problem. What that problem was, I wasn’t quite sure. I just knew that if I didn’t do something quickly, my marriage would dissolve before my very eyes. I remembered a fellow in my Church who had once told me that he had gone through some kind of a Twelve Step program to help him with his cocaine addiction.

With much embarrassment, I approached him and told him about my life and my problem. Much to my surprise, he completely understood my problem and suggested that I attend an informational meeting of Sexaholics Anonymous. I had heard about Twelve Step programs and was intrigued by the invitation. I agreed to go.

In the meeting people freely and openly talked about the very thing that I had held in secret for so long. This surprised me. It was actually very liberating. However, as we went around the room introducing ourselves, I realized that I would probably be expected to say, “Hi, I’m Mike and I’m a sexaholic.” When it was my turn to speak, I feebly mumbled my name and, in a voice that was barely audible, said, “I’m a sexaholic.” It was as if a weight that I had been carrying around for years suddenly came off my back. Yes, I was indeed a sexaholic. As the focus continued around the room, I noticed that no one looked at me with disgust. No one called me a pervert or a heretic. I was not struck dead by a bolt of lightning nor did the ground open up and swallow me whole. Had I perhaps been wrong about this whole addiction thing?

As I started attending meetings, I soon learned about the Twelve Steps. It was not enough to simply adopt the title Sexaholic. The word “Sexaholic” means something. It means that I was powerless over my lust and that my life was unmanageable. I certainly had no problem agreeing in principle with this statement. Unfortunately, because of my religious training, I found it hard to embrace the Twelve Steps and belief in a God “as I understand Him.”

But God is merciful and full of compassion and understanding. One day, as I was praying, a Bible verse from Romans came to mind. “Oh, wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the body of this death? I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.” God Himself was telling me that I was powerless over my lust and that my life was unmanageable. When I realized that the First Step was nothing more than acknowledging the simple Bible truth contained in Romans, I embraced the First Step and made it mine.

Now I glory in the fact that I am powerless to overcome my lust and that it is only by surrendering to God and letting Him overcome it for me that I have any hope of gaining control over my life once again. It is only by surrendering my life and all its defects that I have any hope of tapping into His power and “almightiness” that helps me overcome what is wrong with me. And I know that He will carry me each “Step” of the way.