The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? (Jeremiah 17:9)
There is a darkness in each of us. It is a place where we do things--dark, secret things--that would undo us were they to come to light. Even the most upright of men has a dark place. Dark thoughts, evil deeds, perversity--we keep these things in this dark place, trying to keep it secure, under that proverbial lock and key.
My commute to/from Fort Worth takes me through a small community (I prefer to withhold the name, if you don't mind). This community exemplifies this darkness of heart in many ways. Besides two convenience stores and a liquor store, there is a topless bar and an adult bookstore. There are also one or two places that house 8-liners, usually unmarked facilities as 8-liners are marginally illegal. Anyone driving this stretch of highway can see these things. To delve more deeply into the community, you have to search the Texas Sex Offenders Database.
A search of this zip code always shows at least a few registered offenders living in this small community. There is a mobile home park just off the highway that
houses most of these fellows. As is usually necessary, they are often transient residents, there for a while and then moving on. Their numbers here are always changing.
Most of us will never commit such acts. While far from innocent, there is a governing mechanism in us that doesn't allow certain things. In certain people, this governor has been bypassed, and the perversity of their dark actions tends to grow more and more perverse with each act. One reason that the Sex Offenders Database exists in Texas is because of the incredibly high rate of recidivism amongst sex offenders. It is unfortunate that we cannot assume that reformation is likely.
The adult bookstore is the place that sickens me the most. I know, in a general sense, what they hawk there. I also know, in a more specific sense, other things that happen behind their doors. Man's depravity, it seems, knows no boundaries. Thankfully, most of us live our lives in innocent ignorance of these things. Yet to drive through this community at night or in the early ours of the morning and to see the parking lot full of cars both angers me and sickens me. Part of living in a free country, I suppose.
The internet has opened new frontiers to us, too. It allows us to go to places we would never set our foot, all from the perceived safety of our desk chair. We can sit there, bathed in the glow of flesh-colored pixels, then resume our normal lives with no one knowing where we've been or what we've done. Driving up to an adult bookstore assumes a certain amount of risk, as someone you know who would normally think better of you might see your car. Uprightness is apparently no vaccine; we hear almost daily of some minister here or there who has been caught with some type of porn on his computer. Oh, the virtual anonymity of the internet!
Then there are those of us whose darkness of heart leaves no traces. No browsing history to stumble on. No license plates outside an unwindowed building. Shameful acts take place between our ears. Deeds and perversions exist only in our thought life, never finding fruition in being acted out.
Some might see this as an occasion to be proud of their moral superiority. I don't. I look across the aisle from where I sit and I see this man whose name, address, photo, employer and conviction history are there for all to see. I know that only a few feet of carpet separate us. It's not the physical distance I speak of either; it's how easy it would be to cross that few feet and be seated next to him, doing what he has done. Were circumstances different, that could be me. Had I been weak at certain moments, I would be in his seat. No, thankfully, I have not been tempted in that way, and no, this is not likely to be a problem for me, yet I purpose not to assume that I am invincible.
It's never a moment's indiscretion either. It's a series of indiscretions which seem innocent enough at first, one building on another until a crack forms in that wall and it tumbles over, flooding that dark room with light. It always seems innocent at first, but it never is.
I'll never understand how some are infused with a weakness that allows such decadence while others can remain untainted by all but the most secret of stains. I'm thankful. I consider this a gift. I desire to remain vigilant, even steering clear of even those flesh-colored pixels as I am able. I hope to be infused with strength instead of weakness and to overcome instead of giving in. I know my heart. It is indeed a dark place. There are corners into which this light will never fall. Secrets are there, not horrible ones that would destroy me, nor even ones that would derail me in a political election or a run for the Supreme Court. They are simply dark, embarrassing secrets that are shameful examples of my depravity. We all have them, and we all battle to keep them hidden and to know which ones to illuminate. There is enough already known about me to prove my depravity without adding more to it.
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