Jacked on Jesus
Addictions suck. They’re designed to suck love from the heart, reason from the mind and connection from the soul. They do the job intended.
Drugs get you high, alcohol gets you drunk, pornography gets you alone and keeps you lonely.
I’ve been clean for sixteen years, or for one day, depending on how you look at it. My influence in keeping family members clean is marginal. It’s one reason I volunteer for prison ministry. Go where you are welcome. Kick the dust off your feet. Attraction not promotion.
The afterglow of being jacked on Jesus is always seeing the light shine in someone else’s eyes, not your own. The warmth of hearing a convict confess Christ is a blanket against the chill of fearing our
son may never do so.
He sings in church when he goes. He let me baptize him with his sister. His favorite bit of Christianity is “Do not judge, that you be not judged.” Bits and pieces. That’s how the chips fall when they
stay lodged on the shoulder of the black sheep of the family.
The Lamb of God came unblemished to cleanse the shamed and embarrassed. He was run out of His home town. Violent opposition to a call for faith. The same drama plays out again and again in the active addict’s family. The bottom line. The last straw. The Rock of Ages or rock cocaine.
My boy might see some Jesus in you he can’t see in me. Preaching ain’t the same as reaching. Something’s got to give.
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son,that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).