Every Man's Battle : Every Man's Guide to Winning the War on Sexual Temptation One Victory at a Time
the challenge every man faces...the fight every man can win From the television to the Internet, print media to videos, men are constantly faced with the assault of sensual images. It is impossible to avoid such temptations...but, thankfully, not impossible to rise above them. Shattering the perception that men are unable to control their thought lives and roving eyes, Every Man's Battle shares the stories of dozens who have escaped the trap of sexual immorality and presents a practical, detailed plan for any man who desires sexual purity-perfect for men who have fallen in the past, those who want to remain strong today, and all who want to overcome temptation in the future. Includes a special section for women, designed to help them understand and support the men they love. From the Trade Paperback edition.
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
March 31, 2002
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Every Man's Battle by Stephen Arterburn
"But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity" (Ephesians 5:3). If there's a single Bible verse that captures God's standard for sexual purity, this is it. And it compels this question: In relation to God's standard, is there even a hint of sexual impurity in your life
For both of us, the answer to that question was yes.
From Steve: COLLISION
In 1983 my wife, Sandy, and I celebrated our first anniversary. One sun-splashed Southern California morning that year, feeling good about life and our future, I hopped in our 1973 Mercedes 450SL -- the car of my dreams, white with a black top. I'd owned it for just two months.
I was tooling northbound through Malibu on my way to Oxnard, where I'd been asked to testify in a court hearing about whether a hospital should add an addiction treatment center. I always loved driving along the PCH, as locals called the Pacific Coast Highway. These four lanes of blacktop hugged the golden coastline and provided a close-up view of L.A.'s beach culture. With the top down and the wind blowing in my face, I found that summer morning a good day to be alive.
I never intentionally set out to be girl-watching that day, but I spotted her about two hundred yards ahead and to the left. She was jogging toward me along the coastal sidewalk. From my sheepskin-covered leather seat, I found the view outstanding, even by California's high standards.
My eyes locked on to this goddesslike blonde, rivulets of sweat cascading down her tanned body as she ran at a purposeful pace. Her jogging outfit, if it could be called that in those days before sports bras and spandex, was actually a skimpy bikini. As she approached on my left, two tiny triangles of tie-dyed fabric struggled to contain her ample bosom.
I can't tell you what her face looked like; nothing above the neckline registered with me that morning. My eyes feasted on this banquet of glistening flesh as she passed on my left, and they continued to follow her lithe figure as she continued jogging southbound. Simply by lustful instinct, as if mesmerized by her gait, I turned my head further and further, craning my neck to capture every possible moment for my mental video camera.
I might still be marveling at this remarkable specimen of female athleticism if my Mercedes hadn't plowed into a Chevelle that had come to a complete stop in my lane. Fortunately, I was traveling only fifteen miles per hour in the stop-and-go traffic, but the mini-collision crumpled my front bumper and crinkled the hood. And the fellow I smacked into didn't appreciate the considerable damage to his rear end.
I got out of the car -- embarrassed, humiliated, saturated with guilt, and unable to offer a satisfying explanation. No way would I tell this guy, "Well, if you'd seen what I saw, you'd understand."