A guest story by Anonymous
In the year 2020 my greatest fear was not Covid-19. No, my greatest fear has always been the death of connection to God. The connection that I have watched loosen and unravel with greater frequency among close friends in the last few years.
My greatest fear is the unseen mist of darkness that steals into homes with doors that lock. It comes unbidden into hearts as life breaks us down. It knows no bounds as it travels at the speed of light into the palms of our children tempting them to listen and embrace the messages of alluring promise. Promises of ease, promises of freedom from guilt, pain, and expectation. It bids us leave our cares behind, and open the gates of tolerance for anything we want, need or decide is our right. It waits for cracks in our armor, and moments of weakness, vulnerable moments when effort seems pointless and giving up looks like heaven.
It does not strike with sudden blasts into our searching minds, but like the virus wracking our world, it comes unseen and unnoticeable. We go about the day, careless of the germ of doubt leaching into our lungs. It spreads and sticks and contaminates everything we touch. And just like the extreme care the world is taking to keep itself clean and sanitized from a microscopic airborne illness, a spirit needs vigilant care to keep it clean from the biggest sickness known to the human race. This sickness of spiritual death.
Last week this ick seeped into my home and attacked my little boy. The tender mercy for me was that he had an older brother looking out for him. As a mother I often find that I feel alone in trying to teach and raise my children. I am the nurturer and the one who stays up late talking to them, who prays for guidance to guide them, who keeps them always in my heart and on my mind. It feels exhausting to always be on guard warning them, teaching them, loving them, pointing them to Christ. It is the simple truth that we mess up, we miss opportunities, and we make mistakes.
But this night I had help.
“Mom,” my oldest son said, “I need to talk to you. I am worried about my brother.”
I could see the pain and sadness in his slumped shoulders and hear the tremor in his voice. My heart started beating rapidly. I knew what was coming. Pornography. I felt it in every part of my body. My youngest son had been seeking out pornography. I knew that this day would come. We have openly talked about the dangers of pornography with our children. We have passwords, we check phones in, we filter movies, we do our best. But it wasn’t enough and suddenly the weight of that hit me hard and fast. My own father was plagued by the addiction of pornography and my kids know it causes pain, suffering and horrible consequences.
I waited for the anxiety and anger to fill my body. But as I looked at my oldest son and saw the concern in his eyes my heart was calmed and I felt a peace unlike anything I expected in such a moment. This was not the moment of my greatest fears being realized. The world was not ending, and the son I loved who was caught in a snare was not lost to me or to God. The tender and loving mercy of repentance and forgiveness filled my being with hope and peace. I knew what to do, and I knew how to teach my son the next steps in his young life.
I hugged my oldest son and listened with great joy as he testified to me that he had learned for himself that the path his brother was being offered was not worth taking. He knew the offering and he had chosen to dismiss it. In a moment of learning of the pain of one brother’s struggle I learned of the success and example of another brother’s ability to overcome. He told how he had been watching and observing his brother and bit by bit he had figured out what he was doing. I do not know how long his actions would have gone unnoticed by me had his brother not been watching out for him. I was so touched by this act of love for a younger brother that I wept.
I know God is aware of our deepest fears and our greatest pleadings. As we navigate the steps of progress with our youngest son, I have already seen miracles and changes that could not have happened without the cleansing and liberating gift of the atonement of Jesus Christ. His connection to God is being nurtured and strengthened. I do not know what the future holds for him, but for now it is enough.
My younger son said this in his journal after starting his process of healing:
“This week I got caught sneaking my kindle. I am glad I got caught. I was starting to do bad things. I don’t want to do bad things.”
I will forever be grateful for older brothers, who help us keep our connection to God. The fears of 2020 have been swallowed up in the hope of the never-ending offering from the one who gave everything so we could re-connect our spirits to Him and live!
