The Set and Setting of Porn

A startling number of men have told me how seasons of porn use have been the darkest times of their lives. They felt like evil monsters and rapists for what often seems to me moderate levels of porn consumption. They describe feelings of shame, depression, and fear, and they hate how it ramps up their sexuality.

In the online “Reboot” community – a vast movement of men abstaining from porn and masturbation – the mood is similarly dark. Men regularly share suicidal feelings, describe themselves as perverts and failures when they “relapse”, and blame their various woes, like erectile dysfunction and struggles to find real-world sex partners, on porn use. (I’m not linking to these communities because, frankly, they are a bit scary and are known to retaliate against criticism.)

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Mysticism Is Like Sex

Mysticism is like sex. Let me explain.

I don’t believe in god or gods. I have no belief in an afterlife or supernatural beings. I’m not saying that they don’t exist. I’m open to being wrong. I just have an absence of belief in them. I’m what could be described as a “soft atheist”.

And yet, I also have a lifelong fascination with altered states of consciousness and the experience and practice of mystical self-transcendence. This fascination started when I was a child growing up in a charismatic family.

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I Will Make Him a Helper: Homosexuality and Erotic Union

As I’ve told my story of failure and wounding within a commitment to lifelong celibacy – and how I have eventually walked away from it – the most common response from conservative Christians has been withering. The vast majority of them who have responded on social media and the blogosphere have been singing variations of, “so what you are saying is that you cannot live without sex.” When they hear me say that Side B (the traditional view of gay marriage) crushed me, they assume that’s because I can only conceive of intimacy as a sexual act, that I have an idolatrous view of romance, and that I see sex and romance as the most fulfilling experience on earth. They also assume that I have a misplaced understanding of community and friendship.

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When I Became a Sexual Compulsive

In 2013, I was sick with heartbreak. My boyfriend, on a sunny January day in Baltimore, broke up with me.

He was a conservative Christian, and so was I. We both believed that homosexuality was not God’s best for humanity, and that it would be a sin to act on it. And yet, here we were: deeply in love, and now deeply heartbroken. We had lived in a horrible in-between place, unable to change our beliefs and unable to stop loving each other. The dissonance drove us mad, and it ended in him breaking up with me. I’d never known such rending emotional pain.

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