Excerpt from this article (originally printed September 1, 2013)
"For more than twelve years, I was a Christian drunk living a double life. By day I wrote books about parenting and prayer, and by night I drank myself blotto from a stash in my closet..How else but sick in body, mind, and spirit could you describe a mother who drinks so much she can't recall anything her kids told her the night before? Who, if she hasn't had enough alcohol, can't get her contacts in her eyes because her hands shake too much? Who, though she imagines she would die for her husband and children, can't quit drinking for them?"
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This is a fantastic article on Christians who struggle with addictions. It's easy to look down your nose at an addict and thank God that your not a sinner like that person. But it takes a lot more grace to roll up your sleeves and come up along side such a person and say, 'What can I do to help?'
I first came across the following poem when I was working on the psychiatric ward of a public hospital. Although the poem is about drug/heroin addiction, you could substitute your own 'addiction' if you like.
Miss Heroin
"So now little man you've grown tired of grass
LSD, acid, cocaine and hash.
Then someone pretending to be a true friend,
Said, 'I'll introduced you to Miss Heroin.'
"Well, honey, before you start fooling with me,
Just let me inform you of how it will be.
"For I will seduce you and make you my slave,
I've sent men much stronger than you to their grave.
You think you could never become a disgrace,
And wind up addicted to poppy seed waste?
"You'll start inhaling me one afternoon,
You'll take me into your arms very soon.
And once I've entered deep down in your veins,
The craving will nearly drive you insane.
"You'll swindle your mother and just for a buck,
You'll turn into something vile and corrupt.
You'll mug and you'll steal for my narcotic charm,
And feel contentment when I'm in your arms.
"The day when you realize the monster you've grown,
You'll solemnly promise to leave me alone.
If you think you've got the mystical knack,
Then sweetie, just try getting me off your back!
"The vomit, the cramps, your gut tied in knots,
The jangling nerves screaming for just one more shot.
The hot chills, the cold sweats, the withdrawal pains,
Can only be cured with my little white grains.
"There's no other way, there's no need to look,
For deep down inside you will know you are hooked.
You'll desperately run to your pusher, and then
You'll welcome me back to your arm once again.
"And when you return, just as I foretold,
I know that you'll give me your body and soul.
You'll give up your morals, your conscience, your heart,
And you will be mine until death do us part."
