Sitting
in my office, my eyes scanned the book shelves and fell upon one particular
book: "Addiction and Grace" by Gerald G. May, M.D.
It's an intriguing title, because those two words describe the universal
struggle and only remedy for humanity. Don't let the length deter
you! Some spiritual journeys can't be condensed to a paragraph or
two! It's a worthwhile read for anyone, but especially for
those trying to help and love people trapped by addictions -- which as he
points out, includes all of us to varying degrees. The "Introduction"
is from years of study, experience and reflection. It is followed by his
own "Personal Testimony." I found what he says
very helpful. Enjoy.Introduction:
"After many years of listening to the yearnings of people's hearts, I am convinced that all human beings have an inborn desire for God. Whether we are consciously religious or not, this desire is our deepest longing and our most precious treasure. It gives us meaning. Some of us have repressed this desire, burying it beneath so many other interests that we are completely unaware of it. Or we may experience it in different ways -- as a longing for wholeness, completion, or fulfillment. Regardless of how we describe it, it is a hunger to love, to be loved, and to move closer to the Source of love... Modern theology describes this desire as God-given. In an outpouring of love, God creates us and plants the seeds of this desire within us. Then, throughout our lives, God nourishes this desire...
But
something gets in the way... We become addicted to other things....
A self-defeating force that abuses our freedom makes us do things we really do
not want to do (Romans 7:15)... Moreover, our addictions are our own worst
enemies. They enslave us with chains that are of our own making and yet
paradoxically, are virtually beyond our control. Addiction attaches
to desire and enslaves the energy of desire to certain specific behaviors,
things or people. These objects of attachment then become preoccupations and
obsessions They come to rule our lives. The word "attachment"...
comes from the old French "atache" meaning, "nailed
to." Attachment "nails" our desires to specific objects or
things -- alcohol, narcotics, ideas, work, relationships, power,
fantasies, money, moods, and an endless variety of other
things... Addiction makes idolaters of all of us, because it forces
us to worship objects of attachment, thereby preventing us from truly loving
God and one another... It is the absolute enemy of human freedom and the antipathy
of love. Yet, in still another paradox, our addictions can lead us to a
deep appreciation of grace. They can bring us to our knees....
Personal
Testimony:
It
was in working with some of the most tragically addicted people -- those
enslaved to narcotics and alcohol -- that I began wondering about addiction and
grace. It was there also that I began to recognize my own addictedness. Most
importantly, it was in the course of that work that I reclaimed my own
spiritual hunger, a desire for God, and for love that many years had tried to
repress.
As
nearly as I can recall, the repression of my spiritual desire began shortly
after my father died. I was nine at the time. Prior to that, I had had a
comfortable relationship with God. As with all children, the earliest years of
my life were "simply religious." In the innocent wonder and awe of
early childhood awareness, everything just is "spiritual."
My religious education had given me a name for God, but I hardly needed it. I
prayed easily; God was a friend. In a reaction typical for a nine year
old, I expected God to somehow keep me in touch with my father after his death.
I prayed for this, but of course it did not happen. As a result, something hurt
and angry in me, something deeper than my consciousness, chose to dispense with
God. I would take care of myself. I would go it alone. My wanting -- my love --
had caused me to be hurt, and something in me decided not to want so much. I
repressed my longing. Just as my father faded from my awareness, so did God,
and so did my desire for God.
During
college, I fell in love with literature and philosophy. In retrospect, I think
this was my desire for God resurfacing again as a search for beauty and truth.
I even tried to go to church on occasion, but I wasn't consciously looking
for God. By then I was searching for something that I could use to develop a
sense of mastery over my life, something that would help me go it alone. In
medical school and psychiatric training, I tried to make a god out of
science. Science seemed learn-able, master-able, and controllable.
Throughout, I resisted prayer and rebelled at religiosity in others. Such
things seemed immature; they were signs of weakness. I wanted to be autonomous,
although I wasn't completely sure what that word meant.
I
was in the Air Force during the Vietnam War. Much in the Vietnam
experience I had to repress. But much of it I could not repress. In a way, the
tragedy of Vietnam woke me up a little. Afterward, I took a position as
director of a community drug abuse clinic. With all the energy that might
be expected of a young doctor, I applied my best psychiatric methods to
the treatment of addictions. None of them worked. I was able to help
people with their emotional and social problems, but but they remained addicted
to chemicals. Since so much of my desire for meaning and wholeness had become
attached to professional success, and I was not being successful, I started to
become depressed. A colleague called it, "a normal professional
depression." He went on to say, "All decent
psychiatrists experience such depressions when they can't cure the people
they treat. If you didn't feel depressed, it would mean you didn't care
enough." It was some consolation. But not much.
Then
one day in the middle of this depression I was casually introduced to a faith
healer at a conference in a nearby town. I did not believe in faith
healers, but as we shook hands she paused, holding my hand, and told me she
thought I was meant to be a healer too, but, "I wouldn't take my dog to
you, because you think you are the one that has to do the healing."
These are not words one might expect to be helpful for a depressed
person. But they struck me deep and well. In my search for
self-determination, I had also been trying to command the very process of
healing. It was obvious that some change in attitude was called for. I still
wasn't certain, however, what form that change should take.
At
about that same time, I embarked on a little informal research. I identified a
few people who seemed to have overcome serious addictions to alcohol and drugs
, and I asked them what had helped them turn their lives around so
dramatically. All of them described some sort of spiritual experience. They
kindly acknowledged their appreciation for the professional help they had
received, but they also made it clear that this help had not been the source of
their healing. What had healed them was something spiritual. They didn't
all use religious terms, but there was no doubt in my mind that what they spoke
of was spiritual.
Something about
what they said reminded me of home. It had something to do with turning to
God. As a result I relaxed a little. I honestly considered there might be
some power greater than myself involved in healing, and that I might be better
off cooperating with that power instead of trying to usurp it. I also set
about trying to understand more of what constituted
"spiritual experience" and why it had been so helpful to these
addicted people... I described these spiritual experiences to some clergy
friends. Most of them didn't seem to understand what I was talking about. The
least helpful friends tried to give me Freudian explanations. "Why,
it's simply a narcissistic regression of the ego to a state of infantile
dissociation in order to avoid reality issues that have stimulated
unacceptable libidinous impulses." They said such things as if
I should have known them already. But the problem was I did know them already,
and knowing them didn't help...
I
studied Eastern religions, psychic phenomena, psychedelic drugs,
biofeedback, all the great stew of psychological pop and pap that was
percolating across the nation at the time. I read Alan Watts and Baba Ram Dass.
I mediated every day. From a comfortable distance I watched the charismatic
renewal in Christian churches, and from an equal distance, I sensed something
powerful I couldn't understand in Alcoholics Anonymous. One evening about
six months after my quest began, I was diligently practicing a form of Yoga
meditation that encouraged the free coming and going of all thoughts.
It is a method that might be described as the opposite of repression. In the
freedom I gave to my mind, one of the thoughts that came was prayer. It was, in
the beginning, the prayer of a nine year old, embarrassingly immature.
"Dear Jesus, help me." I would have stifled it immediately had
it not been dutifully allowing all my thoughts to come and go. It was a
sad and painful thing just to let that prayer happen, but it did.
As
months and years passed, the prayer grew, and with it, my awareness of my
desire for God. I realized my exploration was less a professional
research project and more a personal spiritual journey. I was not in control of
my life. I needed as much of God's grace as any of my patients did. With
that growing realization, my spiritual desire seemed to pick up where it had
left off some 20 years earlier. Now it was out in the light again, and I
gradually became able to reclaim it as my true hearts desire and the most
precious thing in my life."
When
I read testimonies, I seek to compare my own journey to the paths others
followed. There were places where my path crisscrossed that
of Gerald May. That may be true for others who were children of the
60's, 70's and early 80's. The tendency to look to other "saviors"
before we return to the One who truly is, is not uncommon. How right he
is when he says, "Addiction attaches to desire and enslaves the
energy of desire to certain specific behaviors, things, or people. These
objects of attachment then become preoccupations and obsessions. They come to
rule our lives." And once they do, only God's all powerful and
relentless grace can liberate us from those addictions and restore us to sanity
and the freedom to follow Him. To root out those idols which are, "the
absolute enemy of human freedom and the antipathy of love."
Living
in the Grace of Jesus, Pastor Jeff
