It’s 3am and I’m UP…. I should go to bed but I can’t sleep. I habitually surf through Instagram pics looking for an instafix to an intimacy deficiency problem.
As my fingers scroll through pictures of people who only post there best moments in an attempt to filter their lives from living as unhappy people, at least on the-gram, I instantly feel relevant. It crazy how followers make us feel important,but how many of our followers are disciples?
I ponder this as my thumb scrolls through time;
my eye immediately prompts my thumb to halt like a stop sign. I can hear my heart pounding in my thumb as my eyes gaze on an ig-model.
I know I shouldn’t click on her page but I’ve been caught in a thirst-trap; see a thirst-trap only works on those who are thirsty, on those who haven’t drunk from the well-spring of life.
Maybe if I heeded to the Father who told me all ye who are thirsty; I wouldn’t be caught like a fish outta water, but when I clicked on that page I was thrown into a sea of lust.
I navigated through a gallery of INSTAPORN and before I knew it my soul drenched in gasoline and my imagination lit the fire now I’m burning with passion and it’s 5am.
My hand violates me in ways that please my shattered ego, as the accuser encourages me to take matters into my own hands I’m handled into the hands of shame,
See pornography is an image you stroke- its an alter call that calls you to die daily but with no returns just, death;
 it’s like playing Russian roulette with the enemy hoping he dies, only he can’t lose cause he has nothing to lose, he already lost yet he robs you, because you and I play his game instead of declaring him defeated.
I never understood church rhetoric which sends us to war with a defeated enemy, I mean have you every see an army toil with their enemy after winning a war. I lost the battle to pornography and everything else on the demonic tree because ever time I eat an apple from that tree like Eve, I deafen the voice of the Adam after me, the Adam who went to the cross to nail my sins for me the Adam who seconds before his last breath embraced the atmosphere pontificating the words forgive them for they know not what they do, cause I, like the first Adam, lost my identity but in the next second it was found.
And if I will heed the Father who say come taste and see that the Lord is good I will never eat apples that I know are filled with worms again.
– Ibrahima Yansane

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