Addiction and Christianity: How recovering addicts show us a better way.

Hoffman, courtesy of Wikipedia

Addiction has been in the news a lot since the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman in a way, unfortunately, that it hasn't been with other, no less tragic, deaths. Still, any publicity is in a way good publicity. I listened last week to a radio show in the Twin Cities where caller after caller added their personal stories with addiction--some of whom in the past tense, walking the long road of recovery, and some in the present, still trying to figure out how to shed the addiction monkey always on their back. Then there was one email that I thought pretty well summed up the dissonance that we have as a culture around addiction, and, while I'm paraphrasing here, the gist of it was this: the writer said he had "zero sympathy" for an addict, plenty of sympathy for their families and loved ones, but no sympathy for an addict, because the emailer made the choice to abstain from drugs and alcohol and it was a free choice. He said that addicts, too, had that choice and, because they chose poorly, they are suffering the consequences.

I'm glad that this guy wasn't written off because he's right that commitment is not completely separate from the addiction equation, but I have a bone to pick with the contention that mere abstention from drugs or alcohol is a sure-fire bet to ward off addiction. Firstly, a person must be sure never to have surgery and get prescribed any kind of pain-killer, since any opioid (even a very small dose for a short period of time) can form an addiction. Next, there is no guarantee that waiting until a person is 21 will ward off addiction to alcohol or other legal substances. Again, a person can make a choice not to drink even then, but culturally it is acceptable at that time (and really much before, if we're honest). So we end up in a position where what is socially acceptable may lead to an addiction that is decidedly not. Finally, a person can be born to an alcoholic and drug-addicted parent and, apart from anything they do, they may develop a natural dependency. Surely we can't say this was within their control? This is before we get to other addictions that are not directly drug-related. I suppose the only way to abstain from any potentially addictive substance is to never eat, drink, or make any kind of free choice.

Part of the problem with the way we think about addiction is that it's easy to assume there is a one-size-fits-all cause and solution to the problem. Instead, some people have addiction written all over their genes. All it takes is one experience and, without any intervention, they will be addicted for life. More often, people become addicted more gradually or after a particularly bad spell, depending on numerous biological and psychological issues. Part of the reason this is difficult to quantify is because everything goes into this equation: everything. If a person is abused as a child that will make them more susceptible to escaping into things that are addictive; if a person is addicted to one thing it may or may not make them more likely to be addicted to something else. There is nothing universal about this.

Except maybe one thing. I firmly believe that everyone has the same potential for addiction--that potential is just magnified for some more than others both by genetics and environment. The reason we don't see much of ourselves in the meth addict or alcoholic that we see on the street is because we have decided that certain addictions are acceptable and certain ones are not; in short, we have decided that their addiction is gross but ours is not. Certainly drug and alcohol addictions are bad both for individuals and communities, but we hardly bat an eye at people addicted to sugar or social media or sex. All of these can have terrible repercussions for an individual, for families and for communities, but we often don't even recognize them as addictions. It's just something we enjoy.

Returning to the emailer above, I can see why we like to make addiction about choices. We like to think that our strength of will can conquer any obstacle and we like to applaud ourselves for our moral fortitude. Both of these are good things. It would be hypocritical to applaud an addict for the strength of their will in seeking our treatment but not to applaud somebody who abstains from the thing that causes that addiction in the first place. But life is never so black and white, and it's also not fair. The same person who may look down upon a junkie taking a hit to get that little, ever-receding high, may well get a similar kind of miniature endorphin rush when somebody likes their status on Facebook or sends them a text message. They may get the same kind of short-lived euphoria from coffee as a junkie does from speed. It's not that coffee is the same as speed; it's not; but it may very well be the case that, if you stood in that other person's shoes, you would be dependent on the drug that wrecks your nervous system rather than the drug in your latte.

It takes admitting our bondage to these things--whether drugs or alcohol, technology, drink, or food--to discover something true about ourselves: we are all dependent. Sometimes we are capable of rising above that dependency and sometimes not. There are many in my profession (pastor) that are addicted (or at least overly indulgent) to unhealthy things: food, work, sex, alcohol, drugs; and there are others who fight that high with other things that are just as escapist but potentially more healthy, like reading or working out. There are parents who are obsessed with their kids' success who may not be addicted to a drug but who are no less intent on controlling the narrative of their life to give them that ever-elusive high. Not all of these things may technically be classified as "addictions" but they are things that give us little highs in an attempt to give our lives pleasure and meaning; some of them good and some of them bad. On the surface, a person who eats cheeseburgers every day is different from a person who smokes cigarettes, but they may be just as likely to die from it (and it may kill them just as fast).

At the congregations I serve we begin every service on Sunday morning with corporate confession and forgiveness as a way to remind ourselves of the things we do poorly and also the things we cannot help about ourselves. We say, "We confess that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves. We have sinned against you (God) in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done and by what we have left done." It goes on from there and we receive a word of forgiveness--not to excuse us, but to remind us again that it is not ourselves who can make things right; it is a power bigger than us. Those who have been through 12-step programs like AA understand the confession better than the rest of us, because they have followed that same road to recovery. They also know it's never over.

This is why I find recovering addicts make some of the best Christians. They are people like Nadia Bolz-Weber, who see in themselves both the dark side of their sin and the light of grace to go forward from there. Recovering addicts are honest about the depths of humanity; they don't pretend to be something holy that human beings are not. None of us are perfect; all of us have these things that we do to escape from the reality of a world that is harsh. By the grace of God I am not addicted to anything that my culture considers "bad" but I get an endorphin rush just the same from positive responses on Facebook or Twitter, or a good run or bike ride; I also have way too much sugar and caffeine, and I eat nachos like nobody's business. I am also very capable of losing myself in those influences in a way that is harmful to myself, my family, and my community. Worse still, the fact that you might have the same problems as me does not make me any better. The criteria for righteousness is not to be better than somebody else but to be perfect. I can either fight my whole life to reach perfection or first admit that I am not enough. Never enough.

And that's the place for Christians to start--where all addicts do--with honesty. I feel like that is where Martin Luther found himself on the road in the storm, calling upon St. Anne with the promise to be a monk. He was aware of his dependence. Then, after spending years trying to be that perfect monk he discovered that he could never be enough of a monk. It was a moment of radical honesty with himself. It was a moment in line with the blessings Jesus gave in the gospels to the least, the last and the lowly. Blessed are the meek--blessed are the poor--blessed are the humble--blessed are those who mourn--blessed are those in recovery--blessed are those who shine a light through the darkness of addiction. To such as these is given the kingdom of God.