If this post offends you in some way: good. It means you’re thinking. I want to share the most important thing in my life to you. Lend me five minutes of undivided attention. Only five. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t write it.

Last night, one of my super close girl-friends (and sister in Christ) asked me one of the most personal questions I’ve ever been asked.

Are you still attracted to the gir(s) you’ve had sex with?

Hold the phone. What? Derek isn’t a virgin? He was raised right in the ways of The Lord and real Christianity and stopped that low, not once, but repeatedly? I don’t want anything to do with his God or Jesus if that’s all the fruit he shows. Christians are such hypocrites.

So this is how I responded: with brutal honesty.

[Not to mention porn, depression, losing my virginity, and other outercourse with other girls in high school… plus the drinking in college] As for the two girls I had sex with this semester, five times in all, I do still talk to them. There’s no intimacy, deep attraction, or true love involved; let’s be honest. No, I’m not attracted to them. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about them or want to treat them like the sisters in Christ they deserve.They still consider me their best guy friend and say I’m one of the sweetest guys they’ve ever met. But it’s not me that’s sweet… it’s only God in me. Because in all honesty, I’m nothing but rotten.

Sex is great, don’t get me wrong. I won’t lie, in the heat of the moment, it’s insane. And I know what I’m doing. While I know their spots, how to drive them crazy, etc… all of this experience is nothing to be proud of. I have to look at my potential fiancee one day and tell her I couldn’t wait for her. Do you still want anything to do with me?

But I sit there on the inside, looking at these daughters I’ve defiled. IF YOU ONLY KNEW WHAT GREATER LOVE WE COULD HAVE! What love we’re capable of. What love we could experience with Christ. Agape. Selfless, unconditional, holy, and perfect love. It was tattooed on my foot as I had sex with you. If only I could REALLY show you what it means. If only I didn’t have this log in my eye (er, penis) so I could show you The Way Everlasting. And these girls have shown signs of being drawn by Christ, too. But I trashed it; and I knew better.

It has been SO hard explaining why I haven’t had sex with some of my other super attractive Christian friends. “Man, Katie is cute. Have you fucked her yet?” “WHAT?! No way.” “Why?” Because they are my sisters. They demand better treatment. God demands and commands better treatment than I could ever give them. I would never dream of defiling them.

But those two girls over there, yeah, I’d totally defile them.

I just look like a dick. A fake, hypocritical dick.

My actions totally contradict anything I try to explain to them.

The depth of my depravity seems beyond reconciliation. GOD DIED TO FIX THE KIND OF SHIT I DO. I built the cross. I whipped Him. I nailed his hands and feet. I spat on his face. I stabbed him in the back, sold him out, punctured his side, rolled the stone, and claimed he was dead to me. And I must die because of it. Sit and wallow in THAT for a while.

But I can’t just die to myself on Sundays. I can’t just die when people are watching. The real you is when you’re left alone in a room as she unzips your pants. The real you is when you’re left to your vices. But it’s in those moments I get to say no to myself and DIE; not to say yes and die to different consequences.

God, I love you. You’ve never failed me and you’re awesome. I hear you out right now with that gentle tug saying “Don’t do it. You know where this path leads.”

But I’m gonna screw here anyway because it feels so right. Plus, you’ll already forgive me anyway. What do I have to lose, really? You’ll still love me just as much afterward. You already died, I’m already forgiven.

What’s worse… I don’t feel guilt afterward. Not immediately, at least. Sometimes, it takes 6 hours. Other times, it takes 6 days. Regardless, I end up on my knees: Flat on my face. Every single time. Left to my genuine depravity. Helpless, I ask for His healing hand. And he heals. Every single time.

While that’s all fine and dandy, sweet and pretty; I do it all over again. Like a dog returning to its vomit. After I’d eaten another dog’s shit, puked it up, pooped on it, made a nice little pile of vile, I ask God to clean it up. But then I go digging in the trash to eat it all up again. The only thing I can consistently produce is poop: literally. But without God, I can’t even do that. He gave me the body and the food to produce it. How great and how much smarter am I, really?

I’m not even a spec of dust. Because the dust does exactly what it was made for. How lowly can I make myself? And in that moment you can’t look any farther down… when you can’t see your hand in front of your face… when you’re physically incapable of standing due to your FREAKISH MISERY… gaze at the cross. How indescribable is my God? How set apart, holy, clean, and healed can he make me? I am desperate for the Living God.

In this moment alone can you begin to understand the reason he had to die. In this moment alone you realize what it means to pick up your own cross and follow Him to the death of sin and wickedness. I was born to die. And I must die to live. Head knowledge of this doesn’t save you: heart knowledge does. You can give your mind to Christ. You can give your body to Christ. Works. But giving your heart, ALL OF IT, even your deepest darkest secret, now that takes real faith. That’s real change. That’s real heart knowledge. That’s real power.

I grew up in the church. I’ve heard all the stories and know all the answers. And I gave my life to Christ. But I didn’t give my (not so secret) sins to Him. Here God, take these parts of my life. Take all 95% percent of it. Just let me try this 5% on my own. NO!

Cut out your heart. Lay it on the table. Die on the floor until your Savior puts it back how He sees fit. But if you don’t cut out all of it, you won’t get anything from it:

Matthew 7:22-23 Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’

Showing good fruits doesn’t even mean you’ve got a golden ticket into the Pearly Gates. The road isn’t just kinda narrow. It’s so narrow, uphill, and so difficult that you can hardly see five feet in front of you. We really never know what’s right around the corner. One minute, one phone call, can change our lives.

It’s in these moments I grow my faith. It’s in these moments I learn. He’s giving me lessons right now and probably speaking words for me through my fingers that aren’t even my own. I don’t know about you… But I’m gonna obey Him. Not out of a “God is gonna smite me, better be good” fear, either. Solomon, who most theologians consider the wisest and richest king EVER, concludes all his wisdom and makes his final word this:

Ecclesiasties 12:13(GNT) After all this, there is only one thing to say: Have reverence for God, and obey his commands, because this is all that we were created for.

That’s our duty. That’s our Job. We don’t even have pay the bills, do the dishes, go to church, pay for our kids’ college, or volunteer at a soup kitchen. While they’re all nice things, that’s not why we’re here. We are only to worship Him. Take it or leave it.

And THAT is what Heaven is gonna be like. Us, just pleasing Him in every iota of every mili-second. There are no hammocks swaying from palm trees, no rivers of chocolate, no mansions, no ultimate brownies, no golden toilets, no dinosaurs to nap with, and no Jimi Hendrix concert in heaven. Although they’d be “cool”, they’re absolutely disgusting. Why? Because they only please ourselves.

God doesn’t want us to be pleased. He doesn’t want us to be happy. He just wants us to obey. And to make it more amazing, He gives us the choice not to.

ANGELS CHOSE NOT TO.

How bizarre is our faith? How radical is it? Because I sure don’t act like it yet.