Destination Discipline

Have you ever felt overwhelmed? Did you feel like you were hanging onto your sanity by your teeth and with your hands tied behind your back? Did the vices that used to captivate you erupt like poisonous gas before your eyes? Did you watch the green fumes thread the air, working their way towards you? Did you shiver with fear, knowing you had no choice but to breathe them in? Did you wonder, “Is this it? Am I a goner for sure this time?”

So often we hang on the razor’s edge while the vapors of our lusts weave around us. Whether we are one day, one week or one year sober, we long to inhale and drop into oblivion, even though we know we really just need to hang on.

Hold Fast to Hope!

I recently placed a reservation for my boss at an upscale hotel on the West Coast. The agent I spoke with had a French accent and described in luxurious detail the many amenities he would have to look forward to while traveling on business. She paused briefly after informing me of the complimentary “all you can drink” wine hour, as if there could be no more attractive perk than this. Candidly, I wondered how alcoholics respond. My boss is not an alcoholic, but I have many family members and friends who are.

So how do we say no when friends, family, and even hotels are spurring us forward?

I recently went in search of a really good story. I find that stories of people who have succeeded in the midst of tremendous adversity give me hope. I found such a story in the biography of Chuck Norris titled, “Against All Odds.” In an early chapter he describes growing up with an abusive, alcoholic father. Mr. Norris spent his formative years watching his dad bully and berate his kind-hearted mother. Still, he wrote, “She never gave up praying for Dad, and she never tired of telling Wieland (Chuck’s younger brother) and me that we could make something better of our lives, that God had good things in store for us.”

There are times when the only way to resist temptation is to wave our hope flag high. In the moment of temptation we may feel as if it will crush us. We may even feel the saliva building under our tongue as we think about the plate of brownies situated right outside our work station. We manufacture a thousand scenarios where we eat only one and are satisfied, along with a host of other lies that have led us into dark alleys of addiction in the past. But we must resist because we know that nothing good will come from consuming that thing we were once enslaved to, and then we must hold fast to hope.

Courage is Contagious!

I recently listened to an interview with Timothy Keller, a respected pastor, teacher and writer. His new book, “Walking with God Through Pain and Suffering” looks compelling. During the discussion he said,

“We know that if God is good, he doesn’t enjoy our suffering. We know that if God is powerful, he could stop our suffering, but he doesn’t.” He then said, “Part of the reason for suffering may be that it makes us better human beings.” He pointed out that a wise person once said, “If there was no evil or suffering, there would never have been such a thing as courage or sacrifice. Still, if God has a purpose in suffering that goes beyond making us better people, it remains that we do not know why evil and suffering continue. God knows, but we do not.”

That is difficult for me to fathom. After all, in this context God seems like a monster. But the foundational tenet of the Christian faith is that Jesus was God. He entered into our pain and suffering, and he sympathizes with our pain. The death of Jesus on the cross causes me to find courage. Courage to ask for help. Courage to cling to him when all other hope fails. Courage because of all the promises he has made in his word, The Bible. And this kind of courage is contagious!

“For people swear by something greater than themselves, and in all their disputes an oath is final for confirmation. So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath, so that by two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us.” – Hebrews 6:16-18

Steely-eyed and Stubborn!

There are times I question if God is faithful. I wonder, will he allow me to be tempted beyond my ability? Will he really provide a way out? Because Chick Fil A ice cream is a very real possibility and I weep under the strain of wanting and not having it.

Still, I have been practicing steely-eyed tenacity. Meaning; I continue to hang onto the metal bar by my teeth and I pray like the dickens for God to send a strong wind to blow the poison gas away. I have faith that he will. And even if he does not–even if I have to inhale it because I have no other choice–I will not stop hoping in Him. My feelings are irrelevant. My fears are irrelevant. I will not let go of the bar. Because my relationship with Jesus is sweeter than any confection Julia Child ever conceived of and more satisfying than the tie breaking home run in a baseball game that’s gone into overtime.

This is the crux of discipline.

Chuck Norris wrote about this kind of discipline in his book. He said that learning tang soo do, a Korean style of martial arts, required special permission from the instructors who looked at him with skepticism. They let him into their training sessions which were five hours long, six days a week. He said, “I was learning discipline by developing the ability to do something that was never easy, not always pleasant, and about which I was not always enthusiastic.”

Maybe you will laugh at all my Chuck Norris analogies, but I have great respect for the man. This past week, after a month of torment by poisonous fumes via temptation, I read his words and found courage again. The stories of people who have succeeded give me hope. And that is why I have written this blog entry today. I hope my story will give you hope too. Never give up. Never surrender. Cry out to God for help and help will come. He has promised and He never breaks a promise.

 

 

It was an ordinary night. The treefrogs were chirping, her husband was snoring, and Nervous Nellie was tucked into her tidy bed with nary a concern. She was silently snoozing when suddenly her heart began to pound like the base drum at a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert. Her skin moistened and her muscles tightened, like a rubber band stretched taut and ready to sting the thigh of some unsuspecting adolescent. A recurring thought ran through her mind; “I’ve forgotten the horseradish sauce and the hoagie just won’t be the same without it.” Nellie knew all too well that she was the only one who made decent horseradish sauce and it seemed inconceivable that those who attended the church picnic would not notice. Sure, she could buy one at the grocery store but it just wasn’t the same as homemade. The red digits on her nightstand reiterated that it was no time to be galivanting around the kitchen and so she convinced herself that it would wait until later in the morning. Still, her heart had just gotten to the part of the song where the lead singer “gives it away now”, and the sheets were like seaweed around her neck, and it felt like a bole weevil was boring a hole into the side of her temple. So she closed her eyes and silently prayed that the commotion would cease so she could get a decent night’s sleep. Except it didn’t. And she didn’t. And after 5 nights of Chili Pepper madness she was getting pretty darn tired of “giving it away now”.

Have you ever dealt with chronic anxiety that seems to have no specific cause? Have you ever arm wrestled with lack of sleep and won the grand prize; chronic depression? Did you try to calm your mind only to imagine giant tree limbs falling on your house? Did you take so many deep breaths trying to calm down that you swallowed a spider? Take heart, dear reader! You are not alone, and the remedy is simple. Rum and bubble gum. But seriously, what does one do when one’s body rebels against good common sense? What does one do when the nights and days begin to blur into one crazy merry-go-round of dark and light with nothing but nausea in between? And what does one do when sanity skips town with a buck-toothed juvenile delinquent who has promised to introduce it to his inbred second cousin?

It’s simple, really. One smiles and says, “Howdy Cousin. That’s a mighty fine third earlobe you have there. Mind if I give it a tickle?”

Or, if you’re like Nellie, you develop and incorrigible itch. An ice cream itch that is. So not only does poor Nellie lay in bed at night humming horrible songs from the 1990’s and worrying about silly things like moles ravaging her iris bulbs, she now craves Chick Fil A ice cream every second of every waking moment that she’s trying not to fall asleep at her desk. And when not thinking about ice cream and how tasty it is, she is avoiding other humans because they might ask about the hollow look in her eyes or the agonized twitch at the corner of her mouth or the handfuls of hair that are accumulating in her bathroom trashcan because her nerves are so doggone shot.

But even though Nellie is dealing with a lot of internal combustion, she has one steadfast anchor of the soul; Jesus Christ. Even though the air popper stopped popping and the brain synapses stopped firing she can trust that she is never, ever alone in her suffering. She holds fast to the promise that the Lord’s portion is his people (Deuteronomy 32:9). She knows there is no God besides Him. He kills and makes alive; He wounds and heals; and there is none that can deliver out of His hand. (Deuteronomy 32:39). And when Nellie stands in the front yard and watches the falling stars at 1:52am while not sleeping and trying desperately to stop worrying about runaway trains, she praises God that she is never forsaken. She thanks Him for loving her and laying down His life for her and suffering unimaginable pain so that she could simply draw near to Him in times in these.

And Nellie knows this is only a season. And even if it isn’t there is nothing anyone can do to snatch her out of God’s hand.

So take heart, Dear Reader! If you are suffering with anxiety and depression today, you are not alone. More than that, you are deeply and desperately loved. Just like Nellie. Whose incorrigible itch found scratching when she did not eat the ice cream and instead enjoyed the sweet gift of homegrown Longans from a kind-hearted co-worker. (Thanks, Victor!) Because God knew exactly what she needed even when she didn’t. And what comfort could possibly be better than that?

I read the headline with sadness and morbid curiosity: “Ben Affleck checks into rehab after Jennifer Garner stages intervention.” It has become almost cliché to read about famous people falling prey to their addictions. For Mickey Rooney, it was gambling. For Liberace it was money and possessions; most notably, his piano shaped pool. For Elvis it was fame–exacerbated by drugs. We often point fingers at these faulty figures while we nestle into our complacent beds; ignoring our own ill-natured habits of which we are so fond. We reason that we are not so negligent as them; using comparison to other people as the scale by which we measure virtue. This faulty standard plagues society like a slow growing cancer. It ripens in our cells; undetected and therefore undeterred. We are dying but we don’t want to acknowledge the disease.

I am not sure of the exact moment when food became a vice for me. If it were my only vice, that would be bad enough, but even now I consider it is the most visible, and one with which I will always be contending. Was it my mothers homemade chocolate chip cookies that caused my sugar addiction? Was my anxious and insecure nature–present even in childhood–that was responsible for driving me to food as a source of comfort and stability? Was it the absence of my father–who worked nights and long hours to provide for our family? Even now I consider my perpetual dependence on gorging to calm my nerves, and feel remorse. I really consider myself no different than Robert Downy, Jr., who became addicted to drugs at tremendously young age. No, I didn’t have my picture splashed across the newspapers, but I did go to prison; the prison of my own body. In fact, the only reason I confronted my toxic relationship with food was because the food I devoured began to devour me.

People are always looking for the quick “how to” approach to fix their most obvious deviancies. Companies capitalize on this and gladly take our money; promising health, wealth, and peace. If we were only thinner, we would be happy. If we were only more focused, we would make more money. If we were only more mindful and kind, we would achieve inner bliss. But our compass is off kilter. We have neglected truth and become comfortable with lies.

The most notable evidence of this is the recent report released by a Pennsylvania grand jury which details the sexual abuse of children by Catholic priests. We rightly squirm with horror when we realize the injustice perpetuated by those we are told we can trust. The Catholic Church has favored liars and abusers over innocent children and used God’s name to absolve them from guilt. Then they decided that as long as they locked the truth away, they could pretend it never happened. But it did happen. It is happening. And an intervention must be staged.

It is bad enough when we pretend that we are not diseased, but when our disorder causes harm to others we need someone to intervene. We need someone to say, “You are sick! You must stop!”

I recently engaged with someone on social media on the issue of the need for secure borders. The case at hand was the death of Mollie Tibbetts by an illegal immigrant and how it is being leveraged by some as an argument for stricter border control. Many conservatives will argue that stricter border laws will make us safe but I argued that safety is an illusion. My son was assaulted by an 11 year old in our subdivision the same day I made this comment. The child that pounded him is a US citizen. In fact, the popularity of crime shows on U.S. television alone should prove this narrative false. Still, someone took issue with my comment. Tim said he would concede that Christians “could possibly be worse without a Sky Wizard watching over their shoulder,” but they are often so hypocritical that they are not to be trusted. And he’s right. Christians are hypocrites, but so are people who don’t follow Christ. Religion doesn’t make us good any more than going to McDonald’s makes us a hamburger. Following Jesus aligns us with what is true, not necessarily human perfection. Still, Jesus is the only hope we have for escaping our deadly disease.

I posit that the disease that afflicts humanity is far more serious than location (citizenship in America versus every other country). I would even go so far as to say we are cursed, mainly because the Bible calls sin a curse–the punishment for which is death. Death is a just and fitting reward for sin in all its various forms; child molestation, alcoholism, and even gluttony. I spent far too many years lamenting my weight as unsightly and uncomfortable because it was easier than the truth. But it was only when I faced the truth; namely, that I loved food more than God, that I was able to accept His help in breaking out of my prison.

I accepted Jesus as my Savior when I was a child but I did not make him Lord of my life. I continued to seek after and to serve lesser gods. Food. Self. Fantasy. Romantic love. I didn’t really see a problem with committing sins as long as nobody knew about them. I was an insufferable sneak. Also, I could go into the virtual reality of my mind and do pretty much whatever I wanted. This began at a very young age and I decided that as long as I confessed on Sunday morning before I took communion, there wasn’t really a problem with my behavior. I have since come to know that there was a fundamental flaw in my logic; namely, God saw my heart and it was ugly. Worse, He let me have what I truly wanted–everything but Him. Because God hates sin and he will not dwell where He is not wanted.

Jesus addressed this in his famous “Sermon on the Mount”, as recalled by Saint Matthew in chapter 5 of his gospel. He spoke of the law, i.e. the Ten Commandments, and said, “I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.” He continued, “You have heard that it was said to those of old, You shall not murder; and whoever murders will be liable to judgement. But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to the hell of fire.” (Matt. 5:21-22 ESV) This is a startling indictment for the Christian. Our unrighteous anger is the same as murder. If that is true, how can any of us possibly escape judgement? Jesus is basically telling us that we all deserve hell and that our only hope is through the atonement that was made on our behalf–namely, that He bore the full wrath of God the Father on the cross and that his sacrifice is the only means by which we can be saved. But this is not the end of our salvation. The Apostle Paul goes on to describe the life we should be living. “So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live.” (Romans 8:12-13 ESV)

As long as I lived in this state of sinful virtual reality, I bore the fruit of my wicked root. My life reflected the things I loved. I could pretend all I wanted, but I did not have peace and I could not understand why. I was dissatisfied with my job, addicted to food, and depressed with no hope. I reasoned that “I believe in God and was therefore a Christian.” But I was not living like one and God knew it. I nullified the grace of God with my behavior by rejecting it and continued to be enslaved to those things that captivated my heart. The Apostle Paul wrote, “The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs–heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.” (Romans 8:16-17 ESV) So how do we suffer with him? How do we take up our cross (Matthew 16:24) and follow him? We stop sinning. Remember, Jesus never sinned.

But you say, “How is that even possible? I am addicted to alcohol. I can’t stop. I am addicted to gossip. I can’t stop. I am addicted to romance novels. I can’t stop. I am addicted to sex with underage boys. I can’t stop.” I would suggest that you love those things more than you love God or you would ask for His help and you would stop. And this is where I will lose a lot of people. They will click away from this page and say, “I can’t do that. It’s too hard!” And that is where I write, “It is difficult, but not impossible.” The Apostle Paul said the same thing when he wrote, “I can do all things through Him (Christ) who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13. The “stopping” is the evidence of a changed life. Without it, one could argue that you don’t really belong to Him at all. That is what Romans 8:13 means.

When I first heard the name, John Owen, I was desperate for guidance in this area of my life. I had begun walking the path of discipline but I continued to struggle with my desires. I not only wanted to stop the pattern of sinning, I wanted to stop the desire for sinning. So when I heard of his book, “The Mortification of Sin in Believers,” I could not wait to read it. I was certain that in this realm lay my hope for peace. I only needed to take hold of it and claim victory. But the prose was hard to read and the concepts proved difficult to grasp. Still, I fought through it, and–once grasped–the truth was like streams of living water in my soul. John Owen taught me to love the law–the ten commandments. He taught me that nothing was sweeter than fellowship with Christ. And He taught me that to mortify (discipline) the flesh was a worthwhile endeavor. John Piper echoes his words in a sermon, “Make war killing sin!” I learned to read, to re-read and to put into practice these concepts and in so doing came to know my Savior in a fresh way; namely, by obeying his commands by the grace of God.

I do not write this from a place of perfection. What John Owen and John Piper–via God’s Word–continue to teach me is how to more effectively fight my sinful tendencies. And while friends and family have urged me to “stop being so hard on myself” and to “just rest and accept God’s grace”, that is not what the scriptures tell me. God’s word says I must fight because my enemy–the devil–is a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour. So when I write on social media that Jesus Christ is our only hope for a cure to the problem of evil, that is because he is the only one who can banish evil from the hearts of men. I know this because I’m living proof.

I no longer compare myself to other people to determine my virtue. Instead, I compare myself to the sinless Christ. I know I am no different than Ben Affleck, or for that matter, Bernie Madoff. I am as guilty of murder as Charles Manson and adultery as Donald Trump. And it is only by the love of a sinless Savior who took my punishment so that I might be set free from the power of sin that I can write this blog. He enabled me to stop eating myself to death, to stop coveting what my neighbors have, and to stop believing I was completely self-sufficient. He is the cure for the deadly curse, and He is my best friend.

Today, if you are dealing with an addiction that is killing you, call out his name. Allow him to replace the other loves in your heart and He will set you free.