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Last month I shared a piece on an addictive behavior I struggle with that I’ve entitled countaholism. On a similar note, I now share a bit more in one particular area God has opened up in me and, thus, begun a healing process—perhaps you’ll be touched as I have:
The Piece I’m Holding Back
What Every Addict Struggles With
Twenty-year-old Jeremy was jogging when he missed a step and fell, hitting his head on a sharp rock that slashed his forehead deeply. Blood gushed forth until he was able to stop the bleeding only with pressure and a large bandage. The wound was unsightly, bothering him to the point he could not bear looking at himself in the mirror. So he didn’t, and continued to wear a bandage atop the wound.
He hoped no one would notice or ask about it. They did, of course, to which all he’d say was, “I’m fine.” His curiosity getting the best of him, he uncovered it one day, only to find it looking far worse than before, and oozing colored pus—it was hideous. So he decided to stay home, out of the public eye, and treat it himself with petroleum jelly, then cover it with a bandage. He remained faithful to his regimen, fearing to see the doctor (who’d likely prescribe the antibiotics he desperately needed) due to his embarrassment and shame. The infection eventually developed into sepsis which led to Jeremy’s death.
As I think about this hypothetical story, it is not unlike the person struggling to free himself from addiction, isolating and wondering why he’s not been successful.
As one who has struggled with addictive behaviors, I can attest to the fact that addictions are interesting “critters,” to say the least. Whether one’s addiction involves sinful behavior or not, I’d argue that all addictions, regardless of the brand, involve one common feature. That feature is the unwillingness to yield to God the very temptation we are fighting. We choose not to go to the “doctor,” if you will. Most addictive behavior can be traced back to an old wound which may be buried deep inside us and covered up so well that we often cannot even recall what it might be. And that wound can fester, and perhaps even kill us, unless we seek its identification and healing.
Through counseling, I’m in the early stages of discovering exactly what my wound is. What little I know is that it has to do with my feeling of not being enough. While I don’t recall ever being explicitly told that in order to be loved and appreciated, I had to perform (and perform well), my formative years led to my believing just that. My younger sister and I were certainly well-regulated, e.g., our mother told us in later years that she would place us as babies in the sun, fifteen minutes on each side, to ensure we were exposed to just the right amount of ultra-violet light each day. In retrospect, while our parents were supportive of us as we grew, I don’t recall being hugged or told I was loved. I remember my father saying that men don’t cry.
What I’m learning is that truly—I am not enough. Sometimes I think I am enough, but I’m only lying to myself. I know intellectually that in my weakness, I am weak, and in my strength, I am still weak. Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 that only in my weakness am I strong, when I choose to let Him be my strength. That’s heavy, but vitally important for me to grasp.
We know from Scripture (Philippians 4:19) that God can supply all our needs (including our perceived needs) but somehow, in these problematic areas of addictive behavior, we’re not convinced He can do the job as well as we can. We’d rather take it on ourselves. What’s interesting is that every time we attempt to fix the problem without help, we’re not only dissatisfied, but wish we hadn’t attempted to do so. We regret the vicious cycle we’ve created for ourselves.
A powerful verse comes to mind:
I can do all things through him who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13
Perhaps it’s time for me to more fully trust—and believe—this!
One of my favorite hymns is I Surrender All, with lyrics written by American art teacher and musician Judson W. Van DeVenter. It was put to music by Winfield S. Weeden and published in 1896. Here are the first two verses and chorus of this
magnificent anthem:
All to Jesus I surrender
All to Him I freely give
I will ever love and trust Him
In His presence daily live
All to Jesus I surrender
Humbly at His feet I bow
Worldly pleasures all forsaken
Take me, Jesus, take me now
I surrender all
I surrender all
All to Thee my blessed Savior
I surrender all
I’m convinced that, were the addict to sing this hymn honestly, he’d have to change the words, “I surrender all,” to:
“I surrender most,” or
“I surrender some.”
It sounds silly, I know, but what he is saying in essence is, “Lord, I know You want to meet all my needs, but I don’t believe You can meet this one as well as I can.” Crazy, huh? It’s just like Jeremy not trusting his doctor enough to seek treatment, and we saw how that turned out. We must learn to become vulnerable enough to trust Him.
My Prayer: Lord, teach me that You not only want to meet all my needs, but are able to do so in a manner I’d find most surprising, if I’d only let You. Help me to know You more intimately and thus allow You to heal the deep-seated wound that keeps me bound in addictive behavior. Give me the courage to become vulnerable to Your healing touch.
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