I WANT TO FLY!

What did porn have to offer me?  Everything!  Those images were so enticing.  The women were so alluring, their smiles, so inviting.  The rush which overwhelmed me was extremely intoxicating in the moment, but at what an incalculable cost to me and those closest to me!  It is tragic that something which results in so much shame and regret is at the same time so irresistible. It was like being addicted to an electric fence.

The tremendous price I was paying for this momentary high is poignantly illustrated in the following story, The Skylark’s Bargain by G. H. Charnley:

“There once was a young skylark who was very fond of worms. He used to say he would give anything if he could only make sure of having all the worms he could eat. One day while he was flying high in the sky, he looked down and saw something unusual below. Feeling curious, the young skylark dropped lower and lower until at last he could see. And my! What a wonderful sight he beheld. There was a tiny coach, painted black with red blinds and yellow wheels, drawn by two magpies.

Walking in front of the coach was a little old man, wearing a black coat with red trousers and yellow shoes. He carried a bell and, as he walked, he kept swinging the bell and shouting —

‘ Who will buy? Who will buy?

I am selling in all weather,

Fine and fat and juicy worms,

In exchange for skylark’s feathers.’

The Skylark was attracted and flew down . ‘Good morning, my pretty bird,’ said the old man. ‘What can I do for you?’ ‘Please sir, how much are they?’ asked the skylark. ‘Two for a feather and the coach is full of them !’

‘Are they fresh?’ ‘Yes, indeed, they were all gathered fresh this morning’

The Skylark gave a painful little tug at his wing and dropped a feather into the old man’s hand. ‘Two, please.’ As the coach passed on, the skylark felt a little guilty, but he enjoyed the feast, and was pleased to discover that no one noticed the missing feather.

“The next day he flew with his father. ‘My son,’ said the old skylark, as they rose higher and higher, far above the tops of the tallest trees of the forest, ‘My son, I think we skylarks should be the happiest of birds. We have such wonderful wings. See how they lift us up, nearer and nearer to God?’

‘Yes,’ said the young skylark, ‘Yes…’ But all the time he was watching a tiny speck which crept along like a black beetle on the cart track far below and he thought, ‘I’ve missed the coach!’

So the next day he waited close to the road. When he heard the bell ringing, he plucked a feather. This one came out so easily, he plucked two more after it. Then he heard a hoarse voice shouting —

‘Who will buy? Who will buy?

Surely we can come to terms.

In exchange for skylark feathers

I am selling luscious worms.’

‘Three here’ said the young skylark. ‘Very good, very good indeed. That will be six worms. And here’s an extra one for luck,’said the old man with a chuckle. ‘My word,’ thought the skylark, ‘that’s a real bargain.’

So, the young Skylark became a regular customer. He found that he couldn’t fly so high, but he didn’t mind. There was less chance of the coach passing without being seen.

Time passed slowly by until one day when his wings were thin and worn and ragged, he suddenly realized he had made a terrible mistake. He tried to fly up into the warm sunshine he had once known but fell back to earth like a stone. Then he had an idea. ‘Of course’, he said to himself.   ‘Why didn’t I think of it before? I know what I’ll do. I’ll dig for worms and trade for feathers.’

So, day and night, he diligently searched and gathered and stored. When he had amassed a huge pile of worms, he hid himself in the tall grass so the coach could not pass without being seen.

When he heard it, he stepped in front of the coach and said, ‘Please sir, how many feathers will you trade me for all these worms?’

But the old man laughed and drove off, calling back over his shoulder, ‘Worms for feathers is my business. ”

So the young skylark died and was buried under the green grass. And now they say that every summer the older birds take the young birds and fly mournfully over the grave, calling to one another as they fly —

‘Here lies a foolish skylark,

Hush your note each bird that sings,

Here lies a poor lost skylark,

Who for earthworms sold his wings.'”

What a crazy fool I was!  I was selling my wings for a pittance.  Pornography is wrong—a sin against God.  This sin I chose to participate in takes human beings made in God’s image and treats them as mere objects to be used and discarded by lustful passions.  Furthermore, I was robbing myself of the freedom which God had given me.

I was like a prisoner locked up in solitary confinement. I never talked with anyone about what I was doing.  I was left alone to believe the lies I had come to accept as facts.  Thus I minimized, justified, and rationalized my totally irrational behavior.

Praise the Lord, he set me free from these lies and gave me my life back.  I don’t want to eat worms ever again. I want to be free.  I want to fly!