Looking back it’s easy to see the foolishness in thinking I could ever keep every little detail about my sexual addiction a secret. I believed God brought my secret out into the open, but how could I honestly believe He would settle for a half-hearted acknowledgement? Whether I believed it or not, He didn’t let it go.
I didn’t realize it, but the guys in the accountability group had a hard time buying my story when I said that a lot of the content of the emails were fantasy. They wanted to make sure I was telling everything, so they put their detective caps on and get to the bottom of it.
They didn’t know what they were doing. They were plowing through like bulls in a china shop. But God used them. He broke me down.
The first Sunday after my resignation, January 11th, Stacey and I decided to worship at another church we previously attended. That morning, though, we spent a lot of time at home since the service didn’t begin until 11:00. I knew that our pastor would read a statement that morning, acknowledging my resignation, and my former assistant texted me when it had been done in the first service. I mourned for what I lost, weeping alone in my bedroom.
Stacey and I had an amazing healing experience at church that morning. We both cried a lot during the service. Toward the end of the service there were some baptisms, and one of them was a woman who shared her testimony through a video. In the video she shared that she did things that had put her marriage and even her life at risk. One morning her husband had come to her and told her that he knew what she had done, he wasn’t going anywhere, and that if she ran he would run after her. Stacey wept as she listened. This was her heart, and what she was already doing. I thought about how I could move on while still keeping secrets.
The next day I talked with one of the guys in the accountability group. He said one of the other guy’s wanted to check out my story.
Scott and Stephanie, some close friends who had been walking through this with us since the first day, were at our house for dinner. Over dinner, while I was trying to force down some food, the other three were complaining about what their guys were doing. They talked about how ludicrous it was that I would admit to some of the things, but not to all of them. What would I have to gain? With every new thing they said, I felt a little more of myself die inside.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret much longer.
Later that night Stacey asked me if I denied anything about my story. I lied a few times, but we both knew I was hiding something.
Then, Stacey looked at me and said, “I want you to tell me what you did. I’m not going anywhere. And if you run away, I’m running after you.”
For the first time I could remember, I believed that if she knew the truth, maybe she would still love me. Maybe she wouldn’t go anywhere. It was possible for someone to know everything about me and not reject me.
Once again she asked if I had done what I previously denied. I remained silent. My wordless response answered her question.
The next few moments blurred. At some point, I fell apart. I wept on the floor and honestly felt like I would die.
Years of pent up secrets and emotions felt like they poured out of me. It felt as if I had been possessed, and that all the evil was painfully pulled out. During this time, Scott came back into the room and sat with me while Stacey called our counselor. She told her everything came out. Becky reassured Stacey that this was not unexpected, that it was how it usually happened, and that she would see us the next morning.
Scott helped me come up with a timeline of all my acting out. From the “smallest” incident to the most intense things I did. Sadly, it was a long list that represented years of secretive, addictive acting out.
Over the next day, as anything came to mind, I immediately told Stacey about it as part of the purging process I went through. After awhile, Scott went home and Stacey and I stayed up talking until early morning. It was strange. After the intensity of my disclosure, we slowly transitioned to calmly talking about things. I don’t think either of us really understood what was going on. But I do remember how good it felt to know that everything was out now. And that I wasn’t “in trouble” with God or anyone else. Sure, there were going to be consequences, and I didn’t know fully what they were going to be, but the main one – the loss of my job and public knowledge that I’d failed – had already been done.
A huge weight lifted.
The next day was good, although more reality set in. We saw Becky again and she helped me understand that the road ahead would be a long one. But she encouraged us, too – letting me know that it was very common for things to come out the way they had. She emphasized how critical it was to be completely and fully honest with my disclosure to Stacey.
Throughout the day I shared things with Stacey as they came to mind. Reality truly set in when we had to go take an HIV test at the health department. I cheated with people I didn’t know and needed to make sure I didn’t catch anything.
I not only put our marriage at risk, but both our lives as well. My addiction – and the choices I made from it – led me to places I’ve heard others talk about. I did things I thought I’d never do, and gone places I never thought I’d go. My selfishness jeopardized my entire family.
And yet, along with the heaviness of reality came freedom. I didn’t have words for it yet, but now I know that I was starting to understand that God wasn’t angry with me. Since I’d been a Christian for so long, and since I’d struggled badly with sexual sin for so long as well, I made myself see God as very distant. For a long time I tried to keep a distance between God and me, because I felt like a disappointment to him. But that was changing.
I began the work of recovery. Along with counseling, Becky gave me a workbook to go through. She also recommended I join a group of other addicts for support and accountability. I attended a group on Monday nights, where I’ve met several men who are becoming good friends as we work through recovery together. I also reconnected with a couple of guys I already knew, but never knew that we shared the same struggles.
The time since that week in January has been extraordinary. God has done incredible work in my life, in Stacey’s life, and in our family. So much of it has come through relationships that have begun or been reestablished because of my experience.
One of the first people I wanted to talk with was my brother, Scott. He came to me almost a year earlier to disclose his own sexual addiction. We shared this issue without either of us knowing, and even when he shared his struggle with me, I continued to hide mine. Now that it was out, I wanted to let him know.
I confessed that my desire to keep my secret impacted how I treated him after he opened up to me. In trying to keep my positive image, I was judgmental and distant toward him. He forgave me, and since then we’ve had closeness in our relationship that we’ve never had in our lives.
Another person I contacted was Kelly Stephenson. Kelly was a friend from years ago when we’d attended the church we now attend. He also was a worship pastor and lost his job when the truth about his own addiction came out. I met with him and shared my story. He told me his as well, and by the end of our first lunch together he agreed to become my sponsor as I walked through recovery.
Kelly has been a tremendous support; always speaking encouragement to me and pointing out areas where I need to be cautious. He also invited me to come sing with his choir on Easter Sunday. It was amazing to have someone who knew everything about me tell me that God could – and still wanted to – use me.
Some new friends God brought to Stacey and me are Tal and Teresa Prince. One of the men in my Monday night group told me about a church called Tapestry of Hope that meets on Sunday nights. I had lunch with Tal and my friend from the group. He was so accepting and supportive; just more of what I experienced with Becky, Kelly, and of course, Stacey. I couldn’t believe that people knew the real me and still wanted to be around me.
When we visited Tapestry, we saw a few others we knew. Stacey knew Teresa from when our daughters attended the same pre-K class a few years prior. God used this new friendship to really help lock in my understanding of His acceptance of me despite my failure. Tapestry was the first place I sang after all my stuff came out.
I heard a song at church on Sunday morning called “Not Guilty Anymore,” and bought the CD. I recommended it on my Facebook page, and after Tal heard it, he asked me to sing the song at Tapestry. I can’t describe the feeling it gave me. I guess I felt that leading music and worship was something I gave up up, or at least wouldn’t be able to do for a long time. Tal’s invitation – coming from someone who knew everything I did – really communicated God’s love and forgiveness in a tangible way to me.
I reconnected with another old friend, someone I had met over fifteen years earlier but had not kept up with. He and I used to run together, and we started running again when we could. He suggested I read and listen to Steve Brown, a Christian radio host and author. I downloaded and listened to an entire course he taught on grace in the church. It has been an amazing way to take a fresh look at God’s grace. Steve was the first person to “tell me” that God wasn’t angry with me anymore, and was in fact quite fond of me, because of what Christ did.
God has redeemed this pain like He has all the others. After making the decision not to return to the church where I’d served, we committed to become more involved at the church we were attending. It’s a large church, and in order for us to build any real relationships we had to plug into a small group. The kids already began to get comfortable with the youth ministries, so one night we looked over the long list of adult small groups.
We found a new group listed that was made up of couples in their 30s and 40s. Everyone in the group was very warm and welcoming, but asked the questions you’d expect them to ask of newcomers. Were we new to Birmingham? Where did we attend church before? With every question, it became more obvious that we were either going to have to hide what was going on, or to go ahead and dive into letting people know some of what we’d been dealing with.
We shared that I had been on staff at a church, and that I’d lost my job because of a moral failure. It was awkward, but probably more for me than anyone else. The people in the group were very gracious and loving in their responses, and we felt really good about having shared what we did. Over the next weeks we found out that we were not the only ones in our group who had walked through the consequences of adultery. We were feeling more at home in this group than with many of the people we’d gone to church with for more than a decade. Here was a group of people who really wanted to be close, in authentic and transparent relationship with one another. Certainly not perfect, but pursuing the right things, and we felt sure that God had led us here.
Now that the newness of the experience wore off and reality settled in, situations changed. I got a job at Chick-fil-A, working over 50 hours a week for about half of what I made at the church. The severance pay ended, and now we’re in a place where we’re unsure of how our obligations will be met each month.
But in the midst of uncertainty, there are a lot of things that are certain.
God continues to reaffirm His love for us through one another, through His word, and through many other relationships. He’s providing opportunities for me to begin serving through music again, in safe and healthy environments. And He’s already shown us several times, through the unexpected kindness and generosity of friends, that He will take care of us and meet our needs.
There are options for other, better jobs that I’m pursuing, and I know that as I seek and ask for wisdom, He’ll provide that too.
So here we are in a brand new life. I don’t know what things are going to look like in a week or month or year, but I do have the confidence that we’re going to be OK. I know what I’m capable of, and I know that I could fall again, but I’m committed to a new way of living – with truth and transparency – and I believe that God has led me to and will keep me in a life of purity.
It was about seven months ago when I wrote the story. A lot of things were still up in the air, and still are. Many relationships that were damaged or just dropped are still in that same place. Although I have changed jobs to a better one, it’s still not one where I’m doing anything I feel passionately about. And yet…
God keeps me safe and walking beside Him. Sure I’ve had triggers, temptations, and more than anything … battles with memories. Waves of shame rush back in, accusing me of everything terrible I used to say about myself. But through all of that, the Holy Spirit continues to speak truth to my spirit, reminding me that all that haunts me is what I’ve done, not who I am.
Who am I? I am a beloved child of God. I am a grateful husband who loves my wonderful, forgiving, loving wife. I’m a father who’s been given a second chance to faithfully lead my kids by example, showing them how to walk with Christ. I’m an available friend who’s been given – sadly – many opportunities to share with and encourage other men who are finally coming to the point of admitting their struggle with sexual sin. I say sadly not because I wish not to share. I’ll share with as many as I can for the rest of my life, and thank God each time for the chance. What’s sad is, I believe we’re only beginning to see the tsunami of men being absolutely killed by sexual sin. And when I see the numbers increasing, I’m reminded that there are still countless more who will continue to suffer in silence. They won’t take the chance at trusting someone else with their shameful secret.
I want to be part of a movement of people willing to show their dark sides, and who can offer the hope, grace, and freedom that Christ desperately desires to give. Men, women, and families are all caught, and I want to help them know that Christ wants them to be free.
Thank you for reading Greg’s story. I hope it encourages men who happen to read this. There is hope and healing waiting for you. There is a huge weight that is waiting to be lifted when you confess your secrets. And for women who have discovered their husband’s secrets … I hope Greg and Stacey are one more shining light that proves there is hope in the midst of suffering. Sexual addictions are tough for both men and women to recover from. But it’s possible. Thank you, Greg and Stacey, for sharing your beautiful story of redemption and hope. You are loved!
To learn more about Greg Oliver, visit his blog. You can also visit his wife’s blog here.
