The Premise is More

I’m just not that big of a deal despite how I often feel like it. In active addiction, our own wants and demands become a tornado, stifling reason, piercing relationships and deadening sensibilities.

We don’t even mean to let it happen, and sometimes even backpedal to prevent it’s worsening, but we are caught in a downward spiral ultimately beyond our control.

Sidesteps remedy situations for a time, willpower steadies us for a bit, and the advice of others helps in moments of weakness. But we slip back into old patterns without heart change, without major rearrangements.

It can seem like drastic action is needed—and it can help. But the basic propulsion that we lack is the willingness to let go of our own belief that we will one day figure out our own mess. Some days are good, after all. People love us. We haven’t lost much.

But we are missing a foundation—a premise by which we know we might and even ought to live by and for.

We were intended for more. We were made for more. We’ve found ourselves in a trap of addiction that allows the seeking of more without the fulfillment that we need and desire.

At the end of the rope, willing to try anything, many go to treatment for separation and resetting. Many come to meetings and churches and counselors.

And God, I think, cares little for the details. He just wants us to get to the end of ourselves so he can work in and through us.

Listening for Him once we have begun the road of recovery becomes a daily habit that is in turns infuriating and hopeful.

God, help me be still.