It's 1:45 p.m. on Tuesday, and I'm logging on the Internet to check my email, read a newspaper article, and begin research for Sunday's sermon.

Well, that's what I'm trying to convince myself.

But I know exactly what I'm doing. When my secretary leaves at two, I will be alone in the building. I will check my email, and I may read an article or two. But as soon as the door closes behind her, I will do what I have done more times than I care to count: I'll type "sex" or "porn" or something worse in the search engine and spend the next three or four hours in the pigpen.

I will enter a trance that leads me to neglect important projects, ignore phone calls, and lose track of time. Eventually I will look at the clock and panic because my wife was expecting me home 15 minutes ago, and I have just started trashing files, clearing the search history, and doing what I can to put myself back together. I'll use every minute of my drive home to create an excuse for being late. I'll try to put on a good ...

Subscriber access only You have reached the end of this Article Preview
To continue reading, join now for free and get complete access.

If you like this, you'll also like: