Daydream Lust

"I struggle with lust."

"You what!?"

No one would ever guess. No one understand if I explained. The heart is hardened, dry cracked soil to the raining glory of God. Starved on the imagination of the flesh. Living anorexic on daydreams.

Dreams. Not reality, not revelation of divine Word.

Dreams. We know the futility embodied in that word, so we rename the distrust, dissatisfaction, pining. Ambition, planning, ideas, desire, maybe even goal.

Anything but dream.

Those others sound more solid. As though we actually plan to take action on our daydreams.

Dreams.

They dissipate in air. Vapour of breath at wintry dawn. Fleeting entertainment they fly, unfulfilled. I daydream. Of recognition I dream. Perhaps the A in class, the 4.0, the honour roll. The head runs wild with the tales of fame, books written, cheering crowd, admiring eyes, encouraged hearts.

Popularity dreams too. The friend everyone can count on, the constantly pointing to Christ (or to myself), the smiles and waves; happy sigh.

Happiness dreams of finding my one, older, wiser, stronger. Or selling out for the ministry, but breaking hearts who had loved me.

Yes, I struggle with lust.

The recognition lust, the popularity lust, the happiness lust. Desiring what I don't have until innocent heart cry becomes devilish obsession. Unsatisfied, incontent, untrusting. Everyday. One hundred times a day. On Sunday during worship I sing:

"I give myself away so you can use me,"

and daydream of all I will do for the Kingdom, and the recognition, popularity, happiness. Every night, the head on the pillow oozing with the lust of recognition, popularity, happiness.

I know I'm deep in. Drowning, lungs filling.

I can't stop.

Even as I acknowledge the dirt, the death, I lust. I lust for lust. It's comfortable here, feels good. Heart is full.

No. Deceived again.

The head is full, not the heart.

The head is full of daydream lust. The heart is starving for the reality truth.

But I can't stop.

Addicted. Tried. Once. Didn't last a day.

Empty mind. Bored. Exposed. Withdrawals.

Filled it up right quick.

Justified the lust. Pain in the heart suppressed by a list of the reasons why daydreams are good, true, lawful. Daydream lust for recognition was giving me ideas for particulars of future Kingdom service. Popularity lust was motivation to live the others-centered encouragement way. Lust of happiness some days helped me know what qualities were important in a perfect one, other days it set me apart from all relationships for Kingdom work.

Kept on in lust. No reasons to quit now. Just reasons to fuel the addiction.

Started looking forward to routine bedtime lust. Head on pillow, imagining countless scenarios. Like watching a movie of my best life, fake life. Kind of like pornography... of the soul. Trust gone. Real life would never turn out, so I daydreamed a better version. One I could control. Outcome predicted.

My will, not Thine, be done.

Deep in. Quicksand. Closing over head.

The Spirit suddenly convicts.

Call it what it is.

Sin. Distrust. Exercising autonomy. Rebellion. Lust.

I've just acknowledged, called myself out.

I know the direction must change, habit must change, but how?

How are the addiction chains broken?

How are the dead raised, the captives, freed, the sinners forgiven and cleansed?

Powerful Spirit of God, you intervened, finish the work. Restore trust. Restore purity. Open the eyes to reality. Shatter the daydream lust.

Construct the blessed hope of the beautiful, tangible real.