(The following is a post by one of our members.)
I used to have this belief that I could only be acceptable to God if I got myself all cleaned up before I could come to Him. In my sick thinking, I had to get to where I felt ashamed enough for what I had done and committed enough to being different in the future before I dared show up before God.
Of course as a growing sexaholic, that meant that "coming to God" got to be less and less often, since my ongoing and increasing lusting and sexual acting out meant I spent more and more time trying to clean myself up. Less connection with God meant that I spent more and more time trying to battle lust on my own. The vicious cycle became very well established. There was no getting off of this treadmill. I was stuck.
So my experience of God had to change. What I thought and believed about Him didn't work to get me sober and keep me sober. And since I was powerless over lust, I didn't have any other solution for my problem except for a God who "could and would" restore me to sanity.
These days the God of my understanding is best described in the story people refer to as the "prodigal son". Regardless of how I was the one who did the leaving, regardless of how much mess I made along the way of willfully running (ruining) my own life my own way, regardless of the filth and stink I've got hanging all over me as the consequences of my choices, the moment I turn to "go home to Dad", he's right there, picking me up and giving me a huge hug and ready to take care of the "cleaning up" Himself. The word "grace" comes to mind.
And it's to that kind of God that I can surrender my lust and my will and life.
