God is here to help us live

Addictions are in people I encounter — and they are in me. I'd be a liar at the head of the line to say, “Nah, not me. I'm better than that.” A friend, who lost her son four years ago to fentanyl poisoning, recently posted a quote online that stopped me in my tracks.

Here are the piercing words: “People say all the time, 'I'd die for my children.' Okay, but would you live for them!? Actually live. Make better choices. Try practicing sobriety. Take better care of yourself, both physically and mentally. Your kids don't need you to die for them. They need you to live.”

I never liked the flavor of alcohol. I didn't try cigarettes or drugs. So I guess sobriety in this sense does not specifically apply. I escaped these things. But I could have had, would have had, a problem. Problem is too namby-pamby a word for addiction. When you cannot find your car keys, you have a “problem.”

This is not the same as your entire life spiraling out of control. Another sizzling adage says, “Addiction is giving up everything for one thing. Recovery is giving up one thing for everything.” It sounds easy — just give up one thing. But it isn't when the one thing has become so all-consuming that you're lost in it.

That old movie with Jeff Bridges, "Crazy Heart", has it right: “Funny how fallin' feels like flyin' for a little while …” Whatever the lure, when I follow it, I find myself right here.

“Nah, I'm better than that.” No, I am not. I'd like to be. And for that to have a chance, I need a relationship with the One who did not follow the lure of addiction. The One who actually has the power to lift me from mine.

Just saying the name Jesus can make people uncomfortable. There are thoughts like, “Keep it to yourself.” Or, “I don't believe that stuff.” Or, “I don't want to get too close; I have things to hide."

When I read Jesus' story, I learn He is very approachable and filled with compassion — seeking those who suffer from addictions and other human weaknesses. Not to grind in failure, leaving us even worse off. He reaches out to heal and to save. He offers a way out — if I want it.

Not everyone did then, or does now. But for those who do, He turns none away. I wish I could say my faith in Jesus has prevented all pitfalls. That would be true if I always heeded His voice — a voice that knows me and what is and isn't good for me. But the “lure” has an enticing voice all its own — inviting me to take the risk — and ignore what's lurking beneath.

I may not avoid every temptation, but Jesus — “God with us” — rescues me from my own missteps when I call to Him. I go back to those words that yanked me to a stop. Would I, for others, make better choices and take better care of myself physically, mentally, and spiritually? Would I live for them?

And would I live for the One who died and rose again to rescue me?