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To Come You Must Leave
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To Come You Must Leave
Come
1 Peter 3:11
He must turn from evil and do good; he must seek peace and pursue it. NIV
To come to God, we must leave something else. People may want the benefits of walking with God but often are unwilling to walk away from the people, places, and ways of the familiar. Perhaps people fantasize that somehow they can be near evil and not be touched by it. Maybe it is all they have ever known and they can’t imagine life without it. It may be as simple as a feeling of unworthiness of being any place else. Regardless of why the dark past holds such attraction, all too often, it reaches out and snatches them back into the hell they were trying to escape.
Of all the people I meet on the streets of America, the pull of the past seems to the be hardest for the recovering addict. Most addicts chose their drug of choice as a coping mechanism to deal with an unpleasant or horrific reality. That reality does not improve just because they put the drug down. In fact, without the comfort of a mind numbing painkiller, the reality becomes even more vivid and must be dealt with. If their painful situation isn’t changed or accepted and their part in it amended, a lack of serenity increases the cravings to a feverish new high that often is irresistible. Only with the help of a Higher Power is there any hope for the addict.
A practicing addict is like a roaring tornado sweeping their way through life, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. The people that love them are deeply hurt, repeatedly disappointed, finically and emotionally bankrupted, and finally reach a point where they have to give up. Gradually, the addict’s entire circle of friends becomes people that share their hurts, habits, and hang-ups. When they tentatively reach towards recovery, their family, church, and friends are understandably cautious about enthusiastically reaching back. Most addicts carry a deep sense of unworthiness that rejection reinforces. In the mean time, their addict friends stand ready to welcome them back into the fold. It is human nature to want to be where you feel worthy and welcome.
Finally, there are the physical difficulties with escaping addiction. Regardless of the substance, the body becomes physically addicted to anything offered in excess. In the week prior to writing this, I’ve met people addicted to heroin, cocaine, sugar, and alcohol. To recover, the addict must put the substance down for the remainder of their life, one day at a time. Most report that they expect to crave the substance at some level for the rest of their life. It is no wonder that the lure of the past is so strong for the recovering addict.
There is hope for the addict. That hope lies is coming to God and leaving the past. They must turn from evil and do good. They must pursue peace the way a drowning man pursues that gulp of needed air. 12-Step recovery programs offer an organized way for an addict to find a God of their understanding and admit to and make amends for the mistakes they have made. With what these programs call a sponsor, the addict can find practical help on a daily basis that allows them to live life one day at a time and deal with life on life’s terms, without having to return to the addiction. It has been my observation that in addition to 12-step programs, in order to find lasting peace and happiness, addicts also need the support of church. While this may be bad news for an addict who feels unworthy of love and angry about past rejection, I believe 12-Step programs open the gates of hell to let them out so their church can open the gates of heaven and let them in. The hope for the addict lies in leaving their past and coming to God.
While Christian writer and speaker Barbara Gobbs and I were making the final trek back to Phoenix, we had the occasion to minister to several recovering addicts. Each was struggling to find a place in a society that abhorred the lifestyle they were trying leave. Unfortunately, the difficulties of finding their way back to a church, family, and/or friends that remembered their past mistakes, was overwhelming them and offering temptation that could send them running back to the deceptive safety of the people from their dark past.
As Barbara and I were leaving our campsite, Peter rolled up in a golf cart. As he reached over to collect our trash, I said, “There is a tiny bag of trash under our camper. It blew under there and I can’t reach it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he cheerfully smiled. “I’ll get it when you pull out.”
“Be careful with it,” I warned. “The little bag actually contains what I cleaned up this morning from my dog.”
“No problem,” he said.
“Thanks,” Barbara said. “We appreciate it.”
“Where are you from?” he asked. As Barbara and I told him who we were and what we were doing, I noticed that his smiling countenance turned wistful.
“Are you a Christian?” I asked.
“I am,” he said. “I went to church for a while but I’ve stopped going.”
“I’ll bet you are Catholic,” I said. Most of the Hispanics I’ve met in New Mexico and Arizona have been Catholic.
“I am,” he agreed. “But I did go to a non-denominational church for while. I’m not going anywhere right now.”
“Is there something you’d like us to pray for you?” asked Barbara.
“No,” he said quickly. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” I encouraged, noticing how his countenance has changed.
“Well, you could probably pray for my court situation,” he said. “I guess I need prayer.”
“Court?” I probed. “That sounds serious." Peter was in Narcotics Anonymous and had been clean from heroin for 3 years. He’d lived a rough life but he had the clear eyes and confident demeanor of someone who was clean. He’d held the same job with KOA for three years, had tried church but felt unworthy, and had continued to go to his NA meetings at the treatment center where he’d found recovery.
Unfortunately, he’d also continued hanging out with his same group of friends. When the police arrested these friends for selling heroin, they also arrested Peter.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” he said. “I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. One of the people I was with made a heroin sale. I was guilty by association. My attorney convinced me that because of my history, they were never going to believe me. He encouraged me to plead guilty. They have reduced my sentence to 2 years in the penitentiary if I testify against my friends. If I testify and then go to the penitentiary, I’m a dead man. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I guess you could pray for that.”
Barbara and I were speechless. Our heart went out to this cheerful helpful well-groomed young man. Finally, I said, “You really do need prayer. Barbara and I will pray for you. You keep calling those people your friends but it doesn’t sound to me like they are friends.”
“I guess they aren’t,” he admitted. “They are why I am in trouble. None of them have bothered to tell the police I’m innocent.”
“You are also afraid they will kill you,” I reminded. “That isn’t friendship. My friends don’t try to kill me. Do you have a 12-Step Sponsor?” I asked.
“No,’ he said. “The people in my NA meeting are in much worse shape then I am. They couldn’t sponsor me.”
“Have you tried an NA meeting not in a treatment center?” I asked.
“Not really,” he said. “I’ve pretty much stayed in the same meetings.”
“I’ve heard it said that in 12-Step recovery programs you should stick with the winners. In treatment center meetings, people are usually very early in their recovery. It sounds like you need a sponsor with years of sobriety. One of the first things he would have advised you to do would be to get new friends.”
“You’re probably right about that,” he admitted.
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” I said. “I think you also need to be in church. Is there somewhere you could go?” He told us about a church he had visited once or twice.
“Is that a commitment?” I asked. “Are you going tomorrow?”
“Do I really need church?” he argued.
“Yes,” Barbara and I said in unison.
I looked at him. “You need a pastor and a sponsor to get through this. As bad as jail is, it would be worse to return to drug use. Even if you do go to jail, a church and a good sponsor would give you support while you are in jail. I’m also going to pray that you find new friends. Even if you weren’t doing anything, you are in legal trouble because of the friends you have been with. I am going to pray that you leave those friends and surround yourself with healthy spiritual people who will lead you where you need to go.”
Barbara and I both touched Peter as we prayed for him. We prayed for his safety, honesty, courage, and asked God to guide him as he surrounded himself with people that could lead him. In that prayer, we also gave the plan of salvation. When we finished, Peter tearfully thanked us. As we left, Barbara gave him scripture to read. She and I left feeling somber about his future.
“Do you believe him?” I asked as we drove away. “Do you really think he wasn’t doing anything?”
“He’s been working at KOA for 3 years. If he was stealing or using drugs, he wouldn’t have kept a job that long,” she said logically.
“I didn’t see any needle marks on his arm,” I said. “His eyes and speech were clear. I can usually tell when people are on drugs and it didn’t seem like he was.” We may be naive but we both believed his story. Unfortunately, our vote didn’t count.
The treatment center that Peter went to helped him get off drugs. They steered him towards 12-Step recovery and God. They helped him deal with the physical aspects of staying clean. Unfortunately, Peter needed to take the next step. When it was time to move beyond the treatment center and into a healthy world that would keep him on the right path, he chose to stay in what was comfortable. He needed to pursue peace leave his dark past completely behind. Peter may pay a heavy price for his procrastination on this journey to recovery but it isn’t too late for Peter. God can protect him while in the penitentiary and his church and sponsor can guide him one day at a time into a life of sane and happy usefulness.
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