My husband is a recovering porn addict. I am a recovering trying-to-control-my-husband’s-every-last-move addict. His captivity provided monstrous amounts of fuel that powered my desire to cure him, rehabilitate him, to help him become consumed with anything but porn. I bought him books. We arranged counseling. I monitored his email accounts, his web browser history, his time on the computer. I drilled him, I questioned him, I cried out to him – How could you do this to me? And before I knew it, we were both enslaved. We were trapped by different chains, but they were chains nonetheless. They held us back from Jesus. They held us back from each other. They threatened to keep us seated in our own personal prisons forever.
Bless the LORD, O my soul,
And forget none of His benefits; (Psalm 103: 2)
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