He hadn't really known better. His
father and older brothers were alcoholics. Jack was practically
raised in a bar. Once, his father approached him sternly. “If I
ever catch you drinking, I'll beat you.” Jack grimaced at the thick
smell of alcohol on his father's breath. He hadn't felt like a fight,
so he uttered an insincere “yes sir.” Despite his dad's gruff
warning, it was clear that Physical Impulse was the king of the
household.
Therefore, when Jack downed that first
shot of hard liquor at his friend's house at the age of twelve, he
hardly thought a thing of it. The other guys were laughing at the way
his eyes watered when the liquid seared his throat. A few of them
were already quite intoxicated. Someone offered him another. He
hesitated slightly, then threw caution to the wind. He was wasted by
the time the neighbors called the police.
Needless to say, alcohol became Jack's
choice vehicle for a pleasurable escape. It was a fixture at every
party he attended, his lonely companion after every hard day at work.
In fact, keeping the fridge stocked and bar tab paid were two of the
major reasons that he even bothered to hold down a job.
Everything changed that afternoon on
the bus. His head was still pounding from the remnants of a bad
hangover. The older man sitting next to him noticed Jack drumming his
fingers.
“Nervous?” The stranger asked.
“Late.” Jack muttered, before
wincing. “And late night.”
The older man smiled sympathetically.
“Mike Hussel,” he introduced himself, offering a handshake.
Jack accepted and settled in for a
conversation. Before long, Jack was explaining some of the difficult
situations that plagued his life. Mike listened carefully and then
began to ask some uncomfortable questions. Jack wanted very badly to
end the discussion, but something stronger compelled him to keep
talking. That Something was the Holy Spirit. Mike got off the bus
when Jack did, and the conversation continued in a diner. Six hours
later, Jack was converted.
Naturally, Mike invited Jack to visit
his church. Jack became a regular attendant. The Spirit's work in his
heart was evident by his enthusiasm and humble brokenness. Mike met
with Jack weekly at the same diner where he'd first come to believe,
to disciple him and provide encouraging fellowship.
One Sunday morning, Jack was startled
by a Scripture that the pastor was reading. “Nor thieves, nor
covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall
inherit the Kingdom of God.” The
pastor continued without pause, but Jack was no longer following the
sermon. The same heavy guilt that had shadowed his heart at his
conversion only a few short weeks before had settled over him again.
His throat tightened as he considered the six-pack cooler that he
carried in his car at all times. Church, work and the meetings with
Mike had kept him from having time to attend any parties, but a
crises at work the previous week had driven him back his stool at the
bar. His newfound faith caused him to be more careful of his life and
others'—so he'd patted himself on the back for walking home once he
was drunk, and then walking back for his car in the morning. But now,
sitting in the pew with the pastor's words ringing in his ears, the
momentary conviction he'd had when ordering that second drink came
back to mind. “...nor drunkards...shall inherit the
Kingdom of God.” Tears stung
the back of his eyes, tears he allowed to run freely during the
musical worship which followed the sermon. Jack knelt at the altar.
“God help me.”
After a long talk
with Mike in the church parking lot, Jack returned home. His spirit
inflamed with righteous urgency, he raided the cabinets in his
apartment for alcoholic beverages and emptied every bottle in his
sink. His friends could call him radical if they wanted—he didn't
care. Jack refused to be a drunkard any longer: he'd been bought with
a price, and his body was no longer his own.
The next several
weeks were miserable for Jack as he struggled to overcome his
addiction. He changed his route home from work to avoid driving by
his favorite bar and often had to change the channel on the
television to avoid seeing commercials that made his mouth water. The
invisible chains of alcoholism were suffocating in their pull. One
afternoon, he lost his temper at the office. In his frustration, he
took the old route back to his apartment. He did a double-take when
he drove past the bar. The inward battle ended with a u-turn, and the
next day began with a flood of remorse. He poured out his heart in
brokenness to Mike that evening at the diner, and they prayed
together. Jack fell asleep that night at peace with God, but little
did he know that his struggle was only about to intensify.
The following
Sunday, Jack was invited to a church fellowship potluck at the
pastor's house. Although a little nervous, Jack was very pleased to
accept the invitation. Once he'd started turning down invitations to
parties where alcohol would be present, his social life had pretty
much dwindled down to just Mike. He thought the potluck would be a
great opportunity to really start getting to know the folks in his
church. Perhaps he'd even be invited to one of the Bible studies he'd
kept hearing being mentioned by different members of the
congregation. “It's almost like a safe party,” Jack
thought to himself as he carefully avoided the alcoholic section of
the beverage aisle and grabbed a few sodas to bring along as his
contribution.
He was greeted at the door by the
pastor's daughter who was all smiles to see him. “Please, come in
and make yourself at home!” She welcomed him, immediately taking
his grocery bag and handing him a plastic cup. Jack suddenly blushed
and refused the drink sheepishly. A flash of confusion dampened the
young lady's smile and she pointed him to the living room where the
men were seated. He nodded gratefully and scoped out a somewhat
secluded seat in the corner. He didn't see Mike anywhere.
As he chatted with a couple of the men,
Jack tried to shake the embarrassment that clung to him from that
initial meeting with the pastor's daughter. “It was nothing.”
He scolded himself. “Just avoid it and enjoy yourself.”
He'd
finally relaxed a little when he heard a feminine voice address him.
He looked up to see the most beautiful woman at church standing
before him. Mike had told him that Stacy was single.
“Thirsty?”
She asked, smiling.
He
fought another blush as he took the glass she offered him. She didn't
try to make small talk for very long before she went back to the
kitchen, seeming a little offended by his discomfort. He couldn't
help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips, as he set the untasted
drink on the far end the little table beside his chair.
The
pastor stood to bless the meal. Jack bowed his head in earnest,
begging the Lord to give him strength in the face of temptation. The
doors to the kitchen and dining area were opened wide, and the pastor
touched Jack's shoulder. “Guests first!”
Jack
felt a little nervous as he approached the beverages. The ladies were
swarming the area, filling cups with ice and mixing tall pitchers.
Jack took his time writing his name on his cup, his eyes searching
the beverage table. He obviously must avoid the coolers, he
calculated, serving himself from an innocent-looking punchbowl. He
didn't make it to the food table before he was looking around
desperately.
“Need
something?” A teenage girl asked him kindly, looking a little
concerned.
His
eyes fell. How could he explain? “Um, I can't—uh.” He pointed
to the cup in his hand.
“Oh.
Here.” She took a step back, revealing the kitchen sink behind her.
“But don't drink the tap water.” She warned before turning away.
He
emptied and rinsed his cup, mortified at the display he must be
making. He made his way back to the table, filled his cup from the
water pitcher and determinedly marched ahead to make his food
selections. Once settled at a table, he absentmindedly reached for
his water. The odor stopped him before the liquid reached his lips.
Tensing, he lowered his cup to the table. “The water is
spiked, too?!” He stared at
the tablecloth, bewildered.
A lady
who was seated nearby noticed Jack's expression. “Can I get you
anything?”
Jack
shook his thoughts and smiled weakly, trying to think of how to
answer. “Do you know where the sodas are?”
“There
are a few different types of coke cocktails in the kitchen.” She
suggested. “Just tell me what you like best, and I'd be delighted
to get it for you.”
Jack
felt sick. “No thanks,” he answered, returning to his meal. He
left the party early, upset with himself and feeling a little
disturbed. He was never so thankful to get back to the safety of his
apartment. He collapsed on his couch, exhausted, with his Bible on
his lap. He knew the football game would be on, but he didn't reach
for the remote. He was not
interested in being offered another drink.
Mike
called the next morning to let Jack know he'd be out-of-state for
several weeks and encouraged him to keep going to church and getting
to know his brothers and sisters in Christ. “You're welcome to call
me if the temptation feels unbearable, but don't forget God's promise
that with every temptation, He provides a means for escaping sin.”
A
couple of weeks later, Jack was offered more invitations at church.
He dubiously accepted them all. Any hopes he had that the next
fellowship might be different were usually dashed the moment he made
it to the front door, and was traditionally greeted by one smiling
lady after another—each offering an alcoholic beverage.
He
felt his resistance wearing low, and was tired of leaving every home
parched because there was not a single nonalcoholic beverage
available. He knew what would happen if he started drinking again.
Was there something wrong with him? All of these Christians drank and
drank, around the clock, and didn't even seem bothered by it. Perhaps
they all had a very high alcohol tolerance and moderation was natural
for them. He knew that some of the fellowships would get rowdy
towards the end, and a handful of the younger guys had gotten into
trouble for drunk driving. But maybe most of the congregation was
simply much more spiritual than he was? How could he tell these
stronger brethren of his struggles? Would they not look down on him
for being the drunkard that Scripture condemns?
After
the service one morning, Jack was leaning against a column, watching
the scene taking place in the field just beyond the parking lot.
Stacy was playing with a group of children, causing them to shriek
with laughter at her silly antics. The sun seemed to shimmer through
her curls which tumbled over her shoulders when she fell to her knees
to scoop up a little one with tickles.
“Jack.”
The deep voice of Stacy's brother from behind startled him. Jack's
attempt to casually redirect his stare was humorously obvious. He was
relieved, though somewhat embarrassed, to find that Stacy's brother
was grinning. “Jack, how would you like to come to our Bible study
Tuesday evening?”
Jack
tried to hide his excitement. “I'll be there.”
The
worries that had typically begun to trouble him as he got ready to
visit a church member's home were smothered by his elation at the
idea of being near Stacy for the entire evening. He arrived at their
house early, imagining himself standing on that same porch in the
future, holding a bouquet of flowers.
Stacy
answered the door. “Hey, Jack.” Her smile was marvelous. “Want
a drink?”
Jack
couldn't believe his ears. He swallowed and forced himself to keep
his cool composure. “Sure, thanks.” He answered, taking the beer.
“Let's
go to the kitchen.” She offered. “The rest of the study group
won't be here for another hour.”
Jack
checked his watch and stammered an apology. Stacy laughed and ushered
him to the table. “My parents are actually out on a date tonight,
and my brother just left for a last-minute trip to the store. But we
could just hang out here and talk if you want.”
Jack
didn't know how he scored so well, but was more than happy to get to
know her a little better. However, the cold bottle in his hand was a
major distraction.
Finally,
Stacy cocked her head. “Don't you like beer?”
Jack
didn't know how to respond, but he had no idea how to rescue himself
from the situation without making a complete fool out of
himself—again.
“Oh,
oh yeah. This is fine.”
The
expectancy in Stacy's face crumbled Jack's resolve. He had to take a
sip, or she wouldn't believe him. He did not want to replay that
awkward scene from the first fellowship meal. Swallowing his
trepidation, Jack gave in.
That
first sip was sweet relief after months of resistance. Stacy mixed
herself a drink as they carried on a lively conversation. Stacy
didn't refill her own glass, but offered Jack another beer once his
bottle was empty. He was enjoying himself far too much to decline.
Stacy seemed very pleased as she fished it out of the cooler.
Conviction came with every sip, for Jack, but he kept shoving it down
and focusing on the wonderful conversation he was having with this
wonderful girl.
By the
time Stacy's brother barged in the kitchen door with an armful of
groceries, Jack knew he'd drank too much. He excused himself, saying
that he suddenly remembered an appointment he had. Stacy seemed a
little sad to see him go, but said she'd walk him to the car.
“No,
I'm okay. You know, I'm great.”
He answered quickly, grabbing his keys. He knew that if she came
alone with him at this point, he might do something he'd regret.
“I'll see you Sunday.” He had enough control to avoid slurring
his words, but he scolded himself for stumbling a little on the way
out to his car. Stacy's brother could not
find out that Jack had been getting drunk while he was alone
with his sister. Jack
now felt powerless to fight this battle that seemed to stretch out
endlessly before him. One his way home, he stopped by the liquor
store. There was no peace to be found anyway: he might as well be
satisfied.
Mike
called Jack the first day he made it back to town, and asked to meet
him at the diner. He noticed the conviction that was eating at Jack
as soon as they sat down.
“What's
troubling you, son?”
“I'm
drinking again.” Jack confessed bluntly. “I can't control
myself.”
Mike's
brow pinched in concern. “Are you still praying and reading your
Bible?”
“I'm
trying,” Jack answered angrily, “but I feel so... so distant from
God! I can't resist the sin that He hates—”
“There
is always an escape with every temptation.” Mike gently
interrupted.
“Where?!”
Jack finally exclaimed, a clenched fist landing hard on the table. He
closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I'm sorry, Mike. The
temptation is just everywhere.
I tried not driving by
the temptation and emptying my cabinets
of the temptation; I hardly watch television anymore and didn't even
RSVP for the company party because I knew there'd be a wet bar—but,
Mike, I'm drowning in temptation during church fellowship! I can't
get away from it, even at the Bible studies. Every where I turn,
someone is offering me a drink. Then when Stacy...” Jack trailed
off, his shoulders falling at the recollection. “And now they're
even serving alcohol in
the building, before and after services.” He stared off for a
moment, feeling awful. “I just—I just thought things might be
different at church. Safe
or something. I'm sorry. I must sound pathetic.”
Mike
held up a hand. “No, Jack, I
apologize.” He blew his breath and sat back, rubbing his jaw.
“Jack, I understand you perfectly. Too perfectly. I'm not so
'spiritual' that having alcohol around all the time doesn't ever
present itself as a temptation. In fact, I'm drawn to my pastor's
home during my weakest moments—and even there, it's always present,
beckoning me to drop my guard for just a moment. I struggled with
alcohol too, when I was a kid. Real bad. The Lord delivered me from
my alcoholism, and I remember finding a 'safe haven' with church
folks. But, as you can see, times have changed.
“Don't
get me wrong: this is a great congregation. They love each other,
bear one another's burdens and are always delighted to talk about
things of the Lord. You need to be in church, Jack, and around fine
Christians like these. But these folks embrace what they believe to
be their 'Christian liberty.' They rightly understand that there is
nothing inherently evil about alcohol. You do understand that, right
Jack? Sin comes from within a person—it's not found in any material
substance. Alcohol is a gift from God and very useful for many things
like sanitation and medicinal purposes. There's a debate in the
church over whether or not God intends it to be enjoyed as a
pleasurable beverage. I believe Scripture teaches that wine and
strong drink can
lawfully be enjoyed in the right place, at the right time,
and in moderation. As
you can see, this congregation also believes that alcohol consumption
is lawful—but there's a real lack of boundaries, and thus, that one
very distracting element to our
fellowship. I'm often embarrassed to bring my struggling young
friends along to Bible studies for that exact reason. That's why I'd
never invited you before.”
Jack
listened, feeling defeated. He'd hoped that somehow, once Mike was
home, he'd be able to give Jack an easy solution. But Mike seemed as
hopeless about the situation as Jack felt. “Can't you talk to
someone?” Jack managed, pushing a salt packet across his plate with
a fork.
“I
tried, Jack. It's just... it's an uncomfortable topic of
conversation. The women, they're the ones that insist on serving
alcohol at every event. Every time a husband or father confronts
them, they answer from a list of catch-phrases. They bring up
Christian liberty. They demand to know who's struggling with it—as
if such a weakness is
pathetic or alarming. They claim that hosting dry parties is like a
crutch for weaker
brethren who just need to get over their addiction and learn to fight
their sinful urges. When the word 'temptation' is brought up, they
just say that those people
shouldn't drink or just shouldn't come. I'm sorry Jack. I could try
helping you find another church, but you'll run into the same problem
most anywhere else. And this really is a great congregation...”
“So
what can we do?” Jack dropped his fork in frustration, sitting back
with crossed arms.
Mike
thought for a moment before blowing out a hard breath. “We keep our
heads down and just keep praying for mercy.”
~*~
What
is your judgment on the congregation in this story? Is Jack really
“pathetic” for struggling in the face of so much temptation? Or
should the church provide a “safe haven”, bearing with the
weaknesses of her members, endeavoring to encourage them towards
faithfulness instead of carelessly dropping stumbling blocks in their
path?
“Let
us not therefore judge one another any more: but judge this rather,
that no man put a stumblingblock or an occasion to fall in his
brother's way.”
Romans 14:13
“It
is good neither to eat flesh, nor to drink wine, nor any thing
whereby thy brother stumbleth, or is offended, or is made weak.”
Romans 14:21
“We
then that are strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and
not to please ourselves. Let every one of us please his neighbour for
his good to edification.”
Romans 15:1,2
“Wherefore,
if meat make my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the
world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend.”
1 Corinthians 8:13
“Then
He said unto the disciples, 'It is impossible but that offences will
come: but woe unto him, through whom they come! It were better for
him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the
sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones.”
Luke 17:1,2
The
verdict is clear.
Of
course, this story might sound a bit bizarre. Indeed, I
know no congregation that is so forthcoming about their enjoyment of
alcohol that they serve no other beverage, even going so far as to
spike the water. (Ew?) But this story is merely an analogy. In
reality, while Jack the Repentant Alcoholic would find a blessed
oasis in every congregation that I know, Jack the Repentant Adulterer
(Matthew 5:28) would not.
That's
what this story is really about. Modesty.
Picture
it now. Instead of being greeted at the door by a smiling pastor's
daughter holding a solo cup of moonshine, her shirt is unbuttoned to
reveal a lot of skin upon which the sun
shouldn't shine. The
kitchen is swarming with ladies, not who are mixing tantalizing
drinks, but instead who are sporting tantalizing curves. The girl he
intends to marry attracts him with her radiant character, but then
entices him to crack under the pressure of trying to please her, and
he allows himself to drop his guard and lust after everything she's
showing him prematurely. Even a 'cold cup of water' in the form of
encouragement often comes with the temptation to let his eyes linger,
his mind engage, his flesh react. For this
Jack, the battle rages at the potlucks, kids' parties, Bible
studies—he can't even find rest on the Lord's Day!
This.
Is. Tragic.
Fact:
Just like there is nothing inherently evil about alcohol, there is
nothing inherently evil about any part of the human body. God placed
Adam and Eve in the garden without a stitch of clothing, and
proclaimed His creation to be “very good.” Man is a fallen
creature, but Christ rose again in
the flesh,
triumphing over the material as well as the spiritual. By His grace,
a woman's body can
be displayed and enjoyed lawfully—but
it must be done lawfully.
Fact: Just
like alcohol has a lawful purpose (hold the debate—this article
really
isn't about alcohol), so a woman's unclothed beauty has a lawful
purpose. Just as alcohol can lawfully be consumed (I said hold it!)
in moderation, a man can enjoy
unclothed beauty only
inside a covenant relationship with his wife. Just as there is a time
and place for alcohol (Presbys, read: probably not when greeting a
new convert at the door. Baptists, I can feel that many of you are
about to explode at request to “hold it.” My sincerest
apologies.), there is a time and place for unclothed beauty.
Fact:
Just like alcoholic consumption should be avoided when weaker
brethren are known to be present, unclothed beauty should be avoided
when any
brethren are known to be present. Yes, I realize I'm being redundant.
Fact:
Christian
women in America, by and large, seem lost on the previous point.
That's why I'm being redundant. I understand that newly converted
ladies must be discipled. But there are many, many ladies who know
better and yet push the line (or erase it) anyway. This includes
myself.
Fact:
Just as there are many Christians who have history of alcoholism,
there are many Christian men who have a history of pornography. Every
Christian man has probably struggled with resisting double-takes at
least once in his life—and these guys rarely get to leave the
battleground.
Fact:
Unlike alcoholism, lust is a struggle for all
men.
Fact:
Unlike
alcohol, immodesty is something that few American men can
realistically avoid (and those guys are probably living in a secluded
cabin in the woods somewhere). Sadly, this includes Christian
fellowship.
Fact:
Unlike
alcohol, low doses of unclothed beauty affect men in powerful ways. A
drop of alcohol won't make a man drunk even if he wanted it to, but
even a hint of a woman's form can solicit a lustful response from an
unguarded man. Sisters, are you wisely cautious of alcohol, knowing
that it's dragged down even the greatest of men into a pit of
groveling foolishness? Your body is potentially more fatal than even
the bottle, and you
are responsible for the way that you are dressed.
Fact:
Paul didn't think that becoming a vegetarian in order to avoid cause
someone to stumble was giving the weaker brother a crutch (1
Corinthians 8:13). Would he think, then, that Christian women whom
are striving to dress in a manner that wouldn't cause their brethren
to stumble are giving their
brothers
a crutch? Eating meat isn't even a sin: dressing immodestly is.
Fact:
Girls
have a hard time seeing the way that men do. However, men are willing
to give their advice to their female family members when they know
that the girl won't retaliate defensively. Ask your father and
brothers about your clothing. If you approach them in sincere, godly
humility, they'll help you understand what causes a guy to stumble.
You can also get inside the minds of over 1,600 Christian guys by checking out the
Rebelution Modesty Survey.
“In
like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel...”
1
Timothy 2:9
“Whose
adorning let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair,
and of wearing gold, or of putting on of apparel; But let it be the
hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the
ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of
great price.”
1 Timothy 2:9,10
Quite
obviously, we live in a sexually irresponsible culture. What doesn't
seem to be so obvious to many young ladies is the fact that the
church is primarily responsible for said culture.
No, we aren't walking around like Victoria's Secret models. (Well,
unless we're within 100 yards of water.) But, unhappily, most of us
seem to be spending a lot
more time finding ways to reveal our figure “without crossing the
line” than we are trying to love and edify the brothers we have who
might be struggling.
Why?
Why do we do this? Why would we insist on using our Christian liberty
as a license to sin by dressing immodestly, to the point of making
every struggling Jack we know miserable? How can we demand that he
look us in the eyes when everything below neck level is competing for
his attention? How can we ignore the fact that he spends almost every
moment when out and about, striving hard to fight images that jump at
him from screens and advertisements, adverting his eyes from the
strange women that invade his view—only to come to church
fellowship and face the same
battles all over again, only this time surrounding the girls with
whom he would really like to just befriend? Our brothers in Christ,
these valiant warriors of the faith who are rising up to defend us
from the dragons of the world. Can't we be there to give them a cup
of cold water without “spiking” it?
Don't
we love them enough for that?
~*~
“And
the LORD sent Nathan unto David. And he came unto him,
and said unto him,
There
were two men in one city; the one rich, and the other poor. The rich
man had exceeding many flocks and herds: But the poor man had
nothing, save one little ewe lamb, which he had bought and nourished
up: and it grew up together with him, and with his children; it did
eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom,
and was unto him as a daughter.
And there came a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take
of his own flock and of his own herd, to dress for the wayfaring man
that was come unto him; but took the poor man's lamb, and dressed it
for the man that was come to him.
And
David's anger was greatly kindled against the man; and he said to
Nathan,
As
the LORD liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely die:
And he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing,
and because he had no pity.”
And
Nathan said to David,
Thou
art the man.”
~
2 Samuel 1:1–7a ~
“[[To
the chief Musician, a Psalm of David, when Nathan the prophet came
unto him, after he had gone in to Bathsheba.]]
Have
mercy upon me, O God, according to Thy lovingkindness: according to
the multitude of Thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.
Wash
me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
For
I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.
Against
Thee, Thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight: that
Thou mightest be justified when Thou speakest, and be clear when Thou
judgest.”
~
Psalms 51:1–4 ~
“For
the Lord taketh pleasure in His people: He will beautify the meek
with salvation.”
~
Psalms 149:4 ~
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