B ored and without much to do on a Saturday night, I was alone in the basement surfing through TV channels. Like snapshots with sound, the images flipped by rapidly, telling me that, as usual, there wasn't much of anything on TV. Then I hit a couple of numbers randomly, and suddenly I was staring at slightly blurred images of naked bodies having sex. The blurry reception told me our cable connection had picked up a station that wasn't part of our package. I glanced at the remote, and then looked nervously toward the basement stairway.
I'm struggling with masturbation. Is there hope for me? I always repent and will not commit this sin but after a few months I go back and fall into this sin. This has been happening for over 11 years way before I got born again in
Rob Toornstra. Of course, he was referring to being caught masturbating. That episode famously brought to light a subject that remains difficult to talk about.
This post is part of a weekly Her. Masturbation doesn't fit within typical modern ethical concerns. It's not unsafe or cruel; in moderation it does not interfere with academic or economic performance, and it doesn't make your children more likely to flunk high school or get pregnant out of wedlock. There are no peer-reviewed studies linking it to obesity or reduced charitable giving, and it is virtually the only thing on earth that doesn't give you cancer. Conventional wisdom tells us it's a healthy form of stress relief.