Destination Discipline

Have you ever had the kind of day that necessitated escape? Did the report malfunction? Did your friend shout at you for no good reason? Did the pain from your chronic condition beat you about the head with chains of despair? Was the strain too much for your weary shoulders? Did you turn to that vice again for comfort even though you know it only tightens its grip on your soul? Take heart, Dear One. You are not alone.

My friend wrote to me today from the tail end of her treatments for breast cancer. For months now she has endured wave after wave of radiation and chemotherapy. All of her hair fell out. She has struggled with radiation burns, sadness and self-pity. Some days she wonders if she can take it any more, but she has two young boys who need her. So she fights with all the energy she can muster and presses forward. My friend is my hero. She is courageous in her fragility. She walks a path she did not choose and weeps with suffering. I too grieve that she must suffer. How I wish I could change her story, but I’m not the author of it.

Yesterday was a very tense day at work. My leader asked me to schedule a meeting with several very important people. It was comical in its complexity. In fact, I felt somewhat like it would be much easier to fly a kite on a breezeless day than put all of those people in a room together for an hour. His exact words via email were, “Margaret, make your magic happen.” But the stars did not align. Travel schedules conflicted. Instructions were vague, causing me to chase down additional details. It was frustrating and exhausting.  Finally, I said to one of the ladies I was working with, “My wand is broken. My bippity, boppity, boo is all bummed out.” And we had a nice little laugh. That’s how it goes sometimes. But as I was driving home I felt the itch–the overwhelming urge–the necessity to escape my stress headache with ice cream. Chick Fil A ice cream to be exact.

Let the reader be advised that this vice is one of my strongest. When I consume Chick Fil A ice cream, I go all in. I don’t eat it to enjoy a little snack, I eat it to escape my problems. It is an elixir, a tonic, an anesthetic. But not only does it not fix the problem, it hooks me once more. Whatever it is about sugar that affects my brain, turns me into a raging lunatic who must consume until I’m sick. And then, once the sickness wears off, I need more. I am disheartened to admit how frequently I have given into this craving and fallen prey to months of daily indulging. It is a horrible addiction–one I try to avoid at all costs because I know what a terrible trap it is.

I have spent the majority of my life turning to food for emotional comfort and therefore, no matter how long I practice living a healthy lifestyle, there are times when I must strain against the urge to turn to it once more. I do not always succeed, but today I choose not give in. Today, I choose courage in the midst of frailty and hope instead of despair. I choose to take long, deep breaths, hug my sons, and write instead. Even though today was worse than yesterday. Even though Chick Fil A ice cream is still calling (screaming) my name.

There isn’t usually an easy answer to fighting against the desire to escape our circumstances. But escape is actually an illusion. We chase after and cling to wisps of smoke thinking it will “take the edge off”. Which they may–for a moment. But then we face once more the jagged path ahead. It takes moxy to stand in the midst of suffering and refuse to try to escape. Often no one even notices the sacrifices we make. We cling to sobriety like a man clinging to a tree in a hurricane. We want to let go because our arms are tired, but to let go is certain doom. So we just keep holding on.

Today if you are struggling against a powerful vice or addiction, take heart. Your addiction does not define you. You can say no. I know it feels impossible. I know your arms are tired. I know it feels like an escape, but it’s not. It’s the mouth to a trap door from which it is very, very difficult to escape.

Take a deep breath.

Ask for help.

Pray for peace.

And never, ever stop fighting.

“My deliver is coming.” – Rich Mullins via the Jesus Record

Have you ever followed a path into the forest of affliction? No one goes there willingly, but sometimes, like Dorothy in Oz, the path turns weedy, the trees grow angry, and the sky goes dark. We were singing a moment ago and skipping as we looked forward to a glad day, and then a horrible witch flies across the sky on a broomstick and we are stricken with terror. We cringe. We tremble. And we began to chant, “Lions and tigers and bears, Oh my!”

I have recently been reading a most interesting story, “South: The Endurance Expedition”, by Sir Ernest Shackleton. It is a story of tremendous courage in the face of unimaginable adversity. 28 men, armed with curiosity and the King of England’s blessing, started out on the best ship man could build in August of 1914. They hoped to find safe passage across–in their minds–the last great frontier; Antarctica.

He wrote, “The first crossing of the Antarctic continent, from seas to seas via the Pole, apart from its historic value, will be a journey of great scientific importance.” He guessed the journey was roughly 1,800 miles through the Weddell Sea and ice encrusted waters. Their ship had been fortified to withstand the ice and freezing conditions and they were confident of success.

These were not ordinary men. Shackleton and his friends, Wild, Worsley, Clark, Hudson, and the others were hard-scrabble, flinty rocks of men that fought through the ice and survived to tell the tale. They spent nearly two years on their journey, 10 months of which were spent on an iceberg after their ship was consumed by it, and they lost nearly all that they possessed in the process.

They departed with 100 dogs for the land portion of their journey, a ton of whale meat and many other provisions. But the elements were against them. They learned what it means to suffer. Frost bite. Sleepless nights. Hunger. Fear. But they experienced also incredible hope. I have never read such an account of a leader who cared so much for the mental fortitude of his men that he aspired continuously to save them from discouragement. He allowed no grumbling, but instead sought to fill their hearts with hope in order that they might find courage despite despicable odds.

I have been reading this story from the forest of affliction and marveling over the tenacity of these men. Having experienced a recent blow of heartache and disappointment, I have struggled to see a way out. So deep and dark have been the woods that I have often wept with despair. My thoughts of hope failed me and I thrashed with grief. In this state of torment, I distrusted God. I felt the bite of my adversary and groaned. And because I could not find a way out of the forest, I cried out to my friends to come and light the way.

“But now it has come to you, and you are impatient; it touches you, and you are dismayed. For affliction does not come from the dust, nor does trouble sprout from the ground, but man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.” – Eliphaz via Job 4:5 & 5:6-7

It interests me the things that people say when someone is hurting. When someone is in the bowels of despair, there really are no words of encouragement that can touch them. I have dear, sweet and wonderful friends who have said kind things to me over these past days and for whom I am incredibly grateful, but words have not eased the pain. And that is why when a friend was trying to comfort me I blurted out, “I don’t care if God wants to make me holy! And I’m angry at you for saying that. I ache. And nothing can stop the pain but Him from whom it comes.” And I felt terrible for saying those words, even though they were true. And that is when I fled from human contact and buried my nose in my Bible and considered again the words of Job. Because the very last thing I would ever want to do is hurt the ones I love. And sometimes they truly just don’t know what to do to help.

“I loathe my life; I will give free utterance to my complaint; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul. I will say to God, Do not condemn me; let me know why you contend against me.” – Job 10:1-2

Only one who has truly suffered can understand how important it is to be silent and weep with those who weep. Sometimes there is no clear explanation for the pain. This is the essence of depression. Other times the foe is a physical ailment that robs mobility or comfort. Would we say to one in a wheelchair, “Rise and walk! Why are you so lazy?” And so when the heart is so heavy and the burdens are not light, there really is only One person who can comfort the soul. His name is Jesus. And He knew what it meant to suffer.

Near the end of Shackleton’s journey he wrote, “When I look back at those days I have no doubt that Providence guided us, not only across those snowfields, but across the storm-white sea that separated Elephant Island from our landing-place on South Georgia. I know that during that long and racking march of thirty-six hours over the unnamed mountains and glaciers of South Georgia it seemed to me often that we were four, not three. I said nothing to my companions on the point, but afterwards Worsley said to me, “Boss, I had a curious feeling on the march that there was another person with us. Crean confessed to the same idea. One feels ‘the dearth of human words, the roughness of mortal speech’ in trying to describe things intangible, but a record of our journeys would be incomplete without a reference to a subject very near to our hearts.”

“Human effort is not futile, but man fights against the giant forces of Nature in a spirit of humility. One has a sense of dependence on the higher Power.” – Ernest Shackleton

Are you walking through the Forest of Affliction today? Has your heart failed you? Can you not taste and see that the Lord is good? Are dust and ashes your only solace? Have sores covered your skin? Have your relationships ended in darkness or death? Dear friend, take heart! You are not alone. He is with you. Even when you cannot sense his presence, He is there. Tell him all your heart. Tell him your pain. Weep and mourn. It is okay to be sad about sad things. But do not despair. You will come out on the other side if you trust Him.

“That’s what happens when hope dies. People die. Or go mad. Or get on drugs.” Tom Hanson in American Junkie

Huey Lewis famously sang about craving a new drug back in good old 1983. He said he wanted something that didn’t come in a pill, or make him sick or feel nervous or make his eyes too red. I could champion the song–after all, the new drug is love–except that it’s the kind of love that is completely self-serving. The new drug is “one that makes me feel like I feel when I’m with you.” In other words, Huey Lewis is still chasing intoxication, just a kind that is more socially acceptable.

I thought of that song after I read an article in the Wall Street Journal on Friday that pointed out opioids are not the only drug people die from. Researchers that study these things closely pointed out, “The complexity behind the trend means that slowing or stopping the curve will require deeper change than just cracking down on one substance or another.” While the White House has made opioid addiction one of the top focuses of its agenda, throwing millions of dollars at states in an effort to curb drug abuse, I learned my home state will receive $29 million to fight drug addiction. When I see a figure like that, I am humbled. Still, it is clear we are not making headway. No one has the solution, though many are trying to find one.

One such man, Michael Kuhar, writes in his book, “The Addicted Brain: Why We Abuse Drugs, Alcohol and Nicotine,” that “Drugs, the brain, and addiction create this dreamland of fantasy.” Yes, part of the problem is that people desire a fantasy but they also turn to drugs because of depression, pain (physical and psychological) and stressful situations. He points out that “Drugs couldn’t produce a reward if these capabilities weren’t already in the brain.” Therefore our  brains work against us in this regard. Much of his research focusses on finding different kinds of drugs that will neutralize the affect of the bad drugs because, “addiction is a brain disorder, maybe like a migraine headache or a seizure.” His research with animals and humans lead him to believe we are pretty much helpless without pharmaceutical intervention and he seeks to prove that with a series of pictures of brains under the influence.

If, as Dr. Kuhar describes, we are hard-wired to experience pleasure, how do we manage the regulation thereof? It is obviously illogical to spend ones life sitting in a room and pressing a lever that delivers electrical stimulation directly to the pleasure centers of the brain simply because they exist. Life is more than the pursuit of pleasure, but the culture we live in seems bent on convincing us otherwise.

C.S. Lewis highlights the “dryness” we mere mortals experience on our journey and how it can be exploited in Chapter 9 of his work, “The Screwtape Letters.” This fictional discourse between devils Screwtape and Wormwood are insightful. Screwtape writes, “Never forget that when we are dealing with any pleasure in its healthy and normal and satisfying form, we are, in a sense, on the Enemy’s (God’s) ground. I know we have won many a soul through pleasure. All the same, it is His invention, not ours. He made the pleasures: all our research so far has not enabled us to produce one. All we can do is to encourage the humans to take the pleasures which our Enemy has produced, at times, or in ways, or in degrees, which He has forbidden. Hence we always try to work away from the natural condition of any pleasure to that in which it is least natural, least redolent of its Maker, and least pleasurable. An ever increasing craving for an ever diminishing pleasure is the formula. It is more certain; and it’s better style. To get the man’s soul and give him nothing in return–that is what really gladdens Our Father’s heart.”

Thus we are tempted to indulge our physical bodies at the expense of our spiritual selves. Worse, we start to believe the lie that the physical self rules the spiritual and we are in fact helpless, hopeless and completely at the mercy of our cravings. We are so fully ensnared that we make peace with our chains. We are so unwilling to remove them that we parlay with the devil once more rather than face the reality of our situation. We are not simple dabblers, casual connoisseurs or rubes. We are nothing short of slaves and if we do not make war against our captor, we will perish.

I believe this is where the “deeper change” must occur. But we cannot change to something unless we know what we must change from. We must pick up the mirror and look intently at our natural face. We must observe and acknowledge. Then we must take up our sword.

“But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.” Galatians 5:16

“For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God’s law; indeed, it cannot. Those who are in the flesh cannot please God.” Romans 8:6-8

The first time I took up my sword it was very heavy. I was so accustomed to indulging my desire for sugar and food that saying no took every ounce of strength I had. I agonized beneath the weight of my desires. I squirmed and writhed. I went through withdrawals. I ached with insecurity and anxiety. I tossed to and fro in my bed. I was weak and that is why I cried out to God. I needed more than what I could offer myself. I fought on my knees in prayer and with the Word of God–which I memorized. For the first time in my life I embraced sobriety but I had no lasting comfort that I could sustain it. So I managed one minute at a time, and then one hour, and then one day. I made a choice between my chains and freedom. It is the hardest choice I have ever made in my life and the best.

Some may read this and say my answer is too simple. “Cry out to God,” she says. “I’ve done that! It didn’t work. You don’t understand. It’s just too hard.” Dear Friend, fear is rational, courage is optional. But remember what John Owen says, “If you are fighting sin, you are alive. Take heart. But if sin holds sway unopposed, you are dead no matter how lively this sin makes you feel.”

America–indeed the world–has a pleasure problem. But we are not without a solution, no matter what the news media says. Jesus Christ came to seek and to save those who are lost. If you are struggling with addiction today, please know that He cares for you. If you will surrender your life to him, indeed the chains that bind you will be broken. Sin and death will no more have dominion over your life. No matter who you are or what you have done, there is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still (Corrie Ten Boom). Then, knowing Him, you can rest in the pure pleasure of his love and grace. I promise, there is no sweeter friend than He who spoke the world into existence.

“Because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.  For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” Romans 10:9 & 13