I have struggled with addiction and I have loved those struggling with addiction. I’ve wrestled with the whys—why can’t they stop? Why do they continue to hurt themselves? Why do/did I continue to hurt myself? My personal addictions include drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, food, men, work, and the most insidious: obsessive thinking and wanting things my way.
My recovery journey began when I was 35. I am currently in my third decade of walking this path, which I now consider an inestimable gift from God. I have changed and I’ve witnessed others change. I’ve also watched others struggle, relapse, give in to the addiction and die—some by their own hands. Through the years, I have tearfully asked many questions, trying to solve this puzzle of addiction. Today I ask fewer questions. I don’t have the answers, but I do have hope—for myself and for those I love.
“What is impossible with man is possible with God” (Luke 18:27 NIV).
Looking back, I see that at some point in this journey, I had the sense, the knowing, that the answer to how to be set free was a spiritual one: to be filled with faith so there would be no draw or appeal to fill myself with something lesser. But this was a slow process. As I surrendered to God, followed the twelve-step recovery program as best I could, and didn’t give up on myself, I changed—little by little. The ties to those go-to behaviors started to loosen, to fall off, and melt away over time.
So now, I don’t have a draw to most of those things—drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, food, or men, but I periodically still struggle with work and obsessive thinking. However, the ties are not so strong now, and I can more quickly recognize when I’ve veered off God’s best path for me. If I am under stress, I might be tempted to go to one of my self-medicators rather than go to God, but that reaction is pretty short-lived. Once you’ve experienced the real thing, others pale in comparison.
I’ve read that all addictions are really our misplaced longing for God. Most of the time, I want God more than I want the substitutes, but I prefer to be bound only to the Divine. I remember though, that we are either moving toward the light—the good, full life—or falling back into the darkness. But God is in the light and the dark. There can be much meaning and value in suffering; much to be discovered about God and about ourselves. Over time, I have become aware of my many limitations and how much I need help to live life to the full. I can accept that fact and be at peace because I’m also aware of how much I am loved by a powerful God who is my best ally. My hope lies in His love and power at work in my life.
The twelve steps are based on the Christian faith which calls for complete surrender, but we must have patience with the long transformation process. It’s similar to autumn when the trees surrender, let go of their leaves, and wait for the new life that spring always brings. In recovery, we are invited to let go of the familiar, and place our hope in an unknown future, trusting that our Creator knows the way. I want to trust the infinite God more than a finite human—myself or someone else. When I get stuck, I can ask myself, “How free do you want to be?” Today I want to thrive, not just survive. God makes that possible for all of us.
My journey has also taught me the importance of community. The recovery program is called a “we program.” Our faith is meant to be lived out with others. When our hearts and minds are troubled, we need the clarity another can bring to us. We look to God and one another to become fully alive. We can give each other the gifts of encouragement, guidance, and above all, hope.
I wish I had a concrete, step-by-step solution to this puzzle of addiction, but I don’t. I do, however, trust and hope that the answers will come—and God will come—if I stay open, honest, and willing to be changed. “Always be in a state of expectancy and see that you leave room for God to come in as He likes” (Oswald Chambers).
