Some sins we cling to so hard because they are comfortable and familiar and the pain they cause is one we are used to dealing with, whereas the pain of everyday life is something we have carefully avoided and so we don't quite know what to do with it, even though, in truth, it may be far less than the pain of our addiction. Eventually though, if the pain of our addiction becomes great enough, we seek recovery.
What we can't see in the beginning is that by giving up our familiar friends that are destroying us, we are actually giving up our chains.
So, what if you were in prison? It could be a prison in the penal system or a political prison. It doesn't really matter. You are in prison because of something you did. It wasn't a mistake, a miscarriage of justice, or anything like that. You screwed up and violated some law of society and now you are stuck in prison. Your cell is fairly small and your privacy non-existent. Your whole world knows everything you do. What would you be willing to do to get out?... to start your life over?... to be freed from bondage?
That is an issue people are dealing with every day, whether it is freedom from an addiction, from unemployment, or from financial bondage. What would you do to get out from under that bondage?
Once the pain is enough, we will finally decide to give up a lot. For the unemployed, it may be pride over taking a job beneath their educational/skill level. For financial bondage it may mean getting rid of a lot of seeming necessities. For the addict, it may mean giving up friends as well as the addiction. What am I willing to give up? And just as important, what am I willing to replace it with in order to be delivered from bondage? Am I willing to give away all my sins?
I'm willing to abandon pornography and self-torture; I'm willing to believe my body is a temple and treat it like one. I'm willing to bring my hidden addiction out of the closet to those who need to know and I'm willing to let it go. I'm willing to have morning devotional and to pray and listen, even when I'm afraid that, like King Claudius in Hamlet, "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go." Still, I'm willing to keep praying until my thoughts accompany my words. I'm willing to accept consequences for my actions.
I'm willing to admit that I've come farther this time because I've finally realized that I can't do it without the Lord and I've started trusting in Him again.
Most of all, I'm willing to move forward when I'm scared to death. I'm afraid that the farther forward I move, the farther down I can fall. But I'm beginning to believe that, with the Lord's help, I can do it. That sort of trust is new to me. Faith in His great power I've always had. Trust in His willingness to forgive me is what I've doubted. Right now, I'm feeling more trust and peace than I can ever remember feeling.
So I'm packing my bags and moving on, hoping that I'm leaving my bondage behind. I now understand that I'll always have the addiction. But now I know that I can be strong enough that it is not a constant part of my life.
And that is Hope.
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