changed

I can remember a few years ago driving home from from the bar, my body totally numbed from the effects of drinking too much alcohol, vaguely wondering if this night would be the night that I got caught or had an accident; I remember asking myself the question of why I continued to submit myself to this destructive behavior, and I remember breaking down and literally screaming my lungs out to God, knowing He was there, watching, waiting for me to stop fighting. I fought so hard during those years, stopped up my ears so many times when I could almost physically hear Him calling me back into His arms. I wanted to be strong, to succeed and gain the world's approval for making my own way. I think maybe I even did. I had a good job, I probably could have found a nice girl, gotten married, and had a decent life. I could see that coming, and for awhile, that was good enough for me.

There were countless numbers of times that I drove home in that state of mind. Even when every other sense in my body was out of touch with reality, I could still hear that small voice calling me, calling me up and out of my rebellion. I knew that this dream I had of the "good life" was an illusion, but I didn't want to admit that I needed something more. Yet God never stopped calling. His arms were and are ever open.

I've spent some time recently pondering addictions and self destructive behavior. Even after going through and being redeemed from such things I still am not completely clear on what drives that behavior. I want to understand this so that I can use that knowledge to help others break free from addictions and find the fabulous new life in Christ that I have found. There are multiple ways of approaching this problem; there are both spiritual and physical things that need to be addressed.

Tonight I revisited an old haunt of mine from years ago, a place that I spent a considerable amount of time hiding from God and pursuing all sorts of temporary physical pleasures. I went to meet up with an old and dear friend of mine and to see how the place had held up in the years of my absence. Very little had changed, except for one thing. Another old friend of mine, after getting through the emphatic "how you doins?" and "it's been so longs," made the observation that I seemed different. I seemed "more mature" and "better." This was amusing to me, because in fact, physically I have not changed all that much. My hair is the same, I still shave every day, and I haven't gotten any taller or put on any weight. Yet I am different, and it got noticed, before I could even speak a single word beyond "hi."

I get discouraged sometimes. I wonder if God has ever spoken to me at all. I occasionally even have a crisis of faith. I think about slipping back into old habits and wonder if there really is a reason not to. I think maybe I haven't changed at all; I still struggle with sin and sometimes rage at God in frustration. But I am changed. God brought me up out of darkness and death and began to set a path before me, leading to glory. I am a light, and even though I sometimes don't feel very bright, there is still something within that shines. Without even trying that light can be seen, and I am in awe of that transforming power of grace.