Today marks Part 2 of our series centered on pornography and how it affects women, particularly in the church (go here for Part 1). I want to make it clear that my dear husband is fighting the good fight and is finding victory in this area. I also want to make it clear that I’m not writing anything that has not been approved, and even encouraged by him. We both agree there seems to be a lack of understanding and help for women that are affected by pornography and we hope that together we can begin talking about the issues of porn and lust in a way that isn’t often talked about. Our prayer is that it begins conversations that need to be had and offers help to women who feel like they are barely hanging on.

I’ve been a part of three churches now in which a pastor has stepped down or been let go of due to unresolved lust issues. Still, it took me getting married to begin to actually explore the subject of lust from the male perspective. I found it was much harder to shake off the deep, unresolved fears residing within me in the confines of a marriage.

After we got married, Brandon and I began having conversations I hated but couldn’t help but continue. I’m thankful to have a husband that has not shied away from answering my questions.

But when I began to fully understand the threat of lust in the life of a man, I was devastated. And I had no idea what to do with it.

None of my friends talked about this subject. None of my church families growing up tackled the subject.

So I reacted by doing what was natural to me: I turned inward.

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Have you ever been caught in the middle of a storm while driving on the highway? I’m talking about the kind of storm when you can’t even see out your windshield the rain is coming down so hard, let alone see the cars around you.

I was caught in one with my husband just a couple weeks ago. We were passing through Cincinnati headed home when the downpour began. I knew that if we were going to make it out of this thing I had to stay focused on the road ahead, remain calm, and keep my eyes and ears open. My muscles were on high alert, ready to make a last-second move if a car slammed on its brakes or an accident occurred in front of us. I knew if I even as much blinked I was putting us in danger.

There was one issue with all of this, though…

I wasn’t the one driving.

Brandon was.

But for some reason I felt like my focus and attention was somehow keeping us safe and controlling the situation.

Have I ever mentioned I’m a recovering control-freak?

Well here’s what I’m learning lately…

My tendency is to do this on a daily basis.

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I’ll never forget my first annual job review. I walked into it like a prisoner on death row. As a recovering perfectionist and professional people-pleaser, I just knew that my work over the past 365 days somehow fell short. I spent a week preparing myself for the blow – a meeting detailing how less-than-satisfactory my performance had been.

It didn’t matter how many days I worked my tail off that year, I always ended the day feeling like I wasn’t doing enough by the time I shut my computer. If there was still more work to do at the end of the day I must be slacking, I thought.

Needless to say, I was shocked when the review was lighthearted, friendly, and positive.

My husband can’t be trusted with Snapchat.

Here are 12 reasons I made him delete his…

From the time I was a young girl, my faith was something I took seriously. I loved learning about this incredible God of the Bible that loved me in my sin, so much so He sent His own son to take my place in death. I loved reading that He is alive and that He works everything for my good and His glory. And I loved the realization that the pages of Scripture I read were God-breathed and alive, applicable to my day-to-day life. I believed all of it.

Or so I thought.

Then freshman year of college happened. And along with the regular ups and downs that come with freshman year, it was the most stressful year my family had ever experienced.