Chapter 2: The Hook

I was nine years old when I first noticed the bait.

It didn't feel like sin. It felt like curiosity. My friend and I were just exploring—two kids, spending long afternoons together. We didn't know what "sex" was. We just wanted to look, to touch, to discover. And so we did.

That's when Satan learned what bait would keep me coming back.

I didn't understand the weight of it then. I just knew I didn't want to get caught. My mom was a church organist, and I'd been in church since infancy. I knew the difference between right and wrong. But I didn't know why this felt wrong. I didn't know what part of it was broken. I just knew it had to stay secret.

As the years passed the visits slowed. The exploring eventually stopped. But a spiral had begun.

At eleven years old, I discovered that rubbing myself on bed sheets felt good. One day, there was an emission. It surprised me. It scared me. I thought I'd broken something. But it also introduced a new kind of pleasure. And Satan set the hook. I made this “rubbing” a habit.

That summer, I was raped—repeatedly—by an adult camp leader. I didn’t understand what was happening. I didn’t like it. But somewhere deep inside, I knew I wanted it to stay hidden. In fact, I suppressed it so effectively that I didn’t speak about it for over forty years. I didn't know it then, but my life had just been rerouted. I had endured a violent attack that, in the moment, didn’t feel violent. But the scars it left are still fading. My understanding of sex, safety, and self was shattered. And I didn't tell anyone.

Later that summer, I discovered men's magazines. The images intensified the pleasure from the sheets. I couldn't get enough. Fantasy and masturbation became my refuge. My routine. My prison.

I was hooked. And I would stay hooked for decades.

Adam and Eve

Genesis 3

Adam and Eve were naked and unashamed. They were created innocent, curious, and free. They enjoyed unbroken fellowship with their Creator—Who placed them in a garden where every imaginable want and need was provided. They literally had everything. If anybody ever had hope of living without sin, it was Adam and Eve.

Then came the whisper: "Did God really say...?"

Doubt. Confusion. Attraction.

Then came the bite.

Followed by the shame.

Before then, Adam and Eve didn't know what sin was. They just knew they weren't supposed to eat this particular fruit. But the fruit looked good. Pleasing. Desirable. So they reached. They tasted. And everything changed.

Afterwards, they hid. They covered themselves. They felt exposed. They didn’t want anyone to know.

And when God came walking in the garden, they didn't run to Him. They ran from Him.

It wasn't just disobedience—it was disconnection.

The hook was set.

And creation has been spiraling ever since.

The Lie of Secrecy

Sin thrives in secrecy. It doesn't need full understanding—it just needs silence.

That's how it grows. That's how it hooks. That's how it hides.

Like Adam and Eve, I didn't know what I was doing. But I knew I didn't want to be seen.

And that's the first lie sin tells us: "If they see you, they'll reject you." So I began developing the necessary skills to keep my secret. I hid it from everyone. On some level, I knew that God could see through my deception—that He knew exactly what I was doing. And I feared the day He would confront me with my sin.

But God's first question in the garden wasn't "What did you do?"

It was "Where are you?"

He wasn't hunting them. He was pursuing them.

And He wasn't angry. He was heartbroken.

He didn't come to punish. He came to restore.

He introduced shed blood as a means to cover nakedness. Sin.

Even in that first fall, grace was already moving.