It sneaks up on me. I make commitments, promises that I can only keep by drinking deeply from offshore oil rigs. I travel across the country – and occasionally beyond it – in the service of a calling that I believe comes from God. What sense does it make that my addiction should be fueled by what I believe is faithfulness to Christ?
This morning, however, I no longer feel guilty. I am done with beating myself up. I am ready to take the first step out of denial and confess: I am powerless over my addiction, and my life has become unmanageable. I see that I am incapable of overcoming this addiction on my own, that no amount of personal effort on my part will be able to release me from it.
But if I am brutally honest with myself, I have to confess that I am not sure whether I am ready to let God heal me. This addiction feels bigger than most other challenges I have faced in my life. Being released from other forms of darkness have actually had the effect of making me a more successful, better integrated person. I get along better in society because I am not depressed, for example. But breaking my addiction to carbon would almost certainly diminish my ability to fit in. How can I seek sobriety when our entire civilization is founded on intoxication?