I thought it was innocent at the time.
She was a church staff member, so we spent a lot of time together. She’d sit in my office, and we’d talk. At times she told me about the difficulties in her marriage, and I counseled her. But I should have stopped her right there; I was filling a need I had no right to fill.
We never touched, we never kissed, we never even verbalized our underlying feelings. But there was a definite attraction, and I liked that vibe. It was fun.
For me it was all in my mind, but it progressed from there. I started thinking about her on weekends. I kept telling myself, I can handle this. It hasn’t gone too far; it’s okay. But it could have; the opportunity was waiting.
Occasionally, I got scared. I’d think, I don’t want to do this. I have a great wife; I have a family. I don’t want to go down this road. And while it was somewhat fun knowing I was getting away with something, it also gnawed at me. I knew it wasn’t right.
Then one day I was on the phone in my office, when she came up behind me and pinched my rear end. That’s when fear finally kicked my senses back into my head. “I’m going to talk to my wife about this,” I told her.
Blowing the whistle
I actually first spoke with the senior pastor of the church. Then I went home. I hadn’t physically cheated on my wife, but my mind had already gone that direction. I was unfaithful in my thoughts and in not telling my wife what I knew was happening but didn’t want to admit. I had to tell her now.
I had compromised my relationship both with the Lord and with my wife. I loved her (still do). In fact, there was nothing terrible in our relationship—I thought we had a solid marriage. This other woman had nothing to lose by entering into an extramarital affair. I had everything to lose.
What’s really scary? I had a good marriage and I was still vulnerable. Imagine what might happen if someone’s in a bad marriage!
It all came down to me being stupid and making a stupid choice, of enjoying sin and flirting with it.
Planning for “never again”
Life is experience. And I’ve learned a lot from the edge I tap-danced along.
First, you must admit to yourself your attraction to someone else. If you find that you’re convincing yourself everything is okay, it’s not. And that’s the point. If you’re not mature enough to blow the whistle on yourself, then you’re heading straight for danger. You’ll start hiding things—things you thought you would never do—and your prayer life will go down the tubes. You’ll be tormented, standing before your congregation without a clear conscience. Justification is one of the strongest indications there’s a problem.
Next, you must confess it. And you must change—that’s non-negotiable. I often hear people confess, “I know what I’m doing is wrong, but . . .” and they continue dancing on the edge. In order to change, you have to cut off that relationship.
If you feel you cannot talk with your spouse about your thoughts or a situation, you set yourself up for trouble. You need to be honest—for both yourself and for her. Also, listen to your wife. Spouses are perceptive—often they’re the first to tune in to danger lurking in the shadows.
On the other hand, be accountable to selected, trusted people, because there are times you can’t just lay this kind of stuff on your wife. Yes, you need to be forthright, but you need to protect her, too. You don’t want to continually discourage her and make her feel like chopped liver.
What’s more, work on satisfying each other’s physical and emotional needs, because it doesn’t just happen. Any one of us is vulnerable when unmet needs might possibly be fulfilled somewhere else.
Above all, be careful. Guard your marriage and your mind. It will help keep you from waltzing toward the edge and stumbling over it.