First off, I want to thank everyone who
supported me and helped me get to Miami and then Fort Lauderdale for the porn
convention. It was easily one of the best experiences of my life being able to
do ministry to people in the porn industry.
No doubt you all read about the people I
got to interact with and the experiences I had, but maybe you’re wondering what
happened to me. Well hang in there, this post is lengthy.
I left for Miami with the intention of
sharing the love of Christ with all; from the least and the greatest, and I believe I did
that as I interacted with individuals ranging from fans who simply wanted to
see some porn stars to the most talked about performer in the industry.
However, I knew as I went to make
friends and bring hope to the lives of others I would have my own life changed,
but it didn't happen until I got back.
I had what a buddy would call, one of
the worst “ministry hangovers” of all time. I had run on adrenaline and Cuban
coffee most of the time I was in South Florida, and coming back from literally
living out my dream my thoughts could be summed up in two words: “now what?”
I attempted to process everything I had
seen to make some sense of it. You don’t forget what it’s like seeing girls who
look no older than seventeen walking around in their underwear as random guys
slap their butts, you don’t forget when a girl walks up to you and says, “Can
you be my friend, because I have none here”, and you don’t forget the
half-conscious look on the faces of some performers as you wonder if they’re really
the ones talking or if it’s the drugs.
The worst part wasn't that I was lusting
after what I’d seen, or even that I was broken by what I had seen.
The worst
part was I felt nothing. I couldn't even force a tear.
I wanted to seek God and become filled
with his presence, but numbed by what I’d seen, and having experienced years of friend after
friend turning their back on God, I wasn't listening to the redundant, “Go pray
and read your Bible.”
For the next week I teetered on the edge
of darkness making decisions that were not leading me anywhere good.
I desperately wanted a new explosion of God in my life; I didn't want the life of sin that was tempting me, but I also wasn't buying the packaged-and-sold version of Jesus I had been fed every
Sunday.
I was thinking about breaking up with
Jesus.
I could never deny the existence of Christ
after all He has done for me, but like every girl I dated in high school, I
could tell him I was thinking it would be best for us to go our separate ways.
I was tired. Tired from the trip to
Miami, tired of giving so much and getting only heart break in return, tired of
seeing Christians talk with no walk, and tired of hearing what I perceived to
be bullshit, watered-down, and ineffective sermons from every white guy behind
a pulpit who was really just hungry for the “amen”.
However, it was too painful.
For my sanity, I attempted to attribute the
struggle of saying goodbye to Jesus as a struggle against social norms built up
by the church that I had been indoctrinated with over the past three years.
But it didn't work.
I can break social norms and cross
doctrinal lines. I can wear camo pants and pink V-necks when everyone else is
tucking their polos into their khakis, I can drink a beer when everyone else
thinks it’s the devil’s piss, I can vote for gay rights, and I can have a guilt
free conscience while doing these things, but I can’t break away from Jesus.
I can’t leave the one who loved me the
most. Who loved me enough to die for me and take my shame on the cross. Who
saved my life when I OD’d. Who kept me from going into the porn industry and
freeing me from addiction, and who did all this while I spat on his face.
I can’t give up on that guy because he
never gives up on me.
Thanks to all who cared to read this
far.
Keep it sexy,
-Brett
