It is not always easy to see the artistic masterpiece of God’s Image when it is covered in the graffiti of a fallen world.
For instance, if you saw a man walking down the street dressed in old blue jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt with his arms covered in tattoos, would you look away in fear?
If you saw the same man with his hands trembling terribly when he opened a door, would you assume he was a drug addict?
And if you asked him what time it was and discovered that he spoke with a slur and a stutter, would you think he was retarded?
Or if you met that same man in a bar and realized that he was an alcoholic, would you sit next to someone else?
What if you discovered that he lives in subsidized housing and collects social security benefits at 38? Would you think he was a freeloader? Or a loser?
Don’t you realize that ”People who are at ease mock those in trouble” (Job 12:5 NLT)?
If so, you’re certainly not seeing the big picture.
Because ”If you had known what these words mean, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the innocent” (Matthew 12:7).
So let me tell you a few things about my good friend, Chris.
His twin brother died at birth.
When Chris was a child, he went swimming. Some kids on the shore started throwing rocks. One rock hit Chris in the head. He almost drowned. And he was under the water for so long that medical science said he certainly should have. But Chris survived. He only suffered a traumatic brain injury resulting from oxygen deprivation–which is why his hands shake and his speech is slurred. He is, most assuredly, not “retarded.” But his disabled fine motor functions are precisely why he collects social security benefits and lives in subsidized housing.
When Chris was just ten years old, his mother passed away. And since his father didn’t want him, Chris had to–
Actually, let me say that again.
His mother died, and his father didn’t want him.
So Chris spent the next seven years of his life getting shuffled around the foster care system. He endured 25 foster homes, 3 group homes, and 2 reform schools (which is about average for a child in the foster care system). The first fight that Chris ever got into as a child happened shortly after another kid insulted his (dead) mother.
Chris also has a sister. She was adopted. But Chris never could find a family that wanted him.
And yet, Chris was nice enough to cancel his plans and invite me over once he found out that I didn’t have any place to spend Thanksgiving this year. (The food was great, but let me just say that I am NEVER carving another turkey again for as long as I live. And I’ll end this personal joke with that.) But, it makes me wonder–Would I have been so gracious if my life had been his?
Would you?
Chris also became a Christian several years ago. And he has made an astronomical effort to try to forgive his father, whom he still talks to on occasion.
But at night, when Chris closes his eyes to try to go to sleep, he can feel the pain of his life up close. He says that it is like a nightmare that won’t go away. He still feels the loss of his mother. He still feels the betrayal and the abandonment from his father. He still feels the rejection from all of those foster families–all 25 of them–who did not want to adopt him. Is it any wonder he is so angry?
And it is probably worth pointing out that the word “anger” originates from Old Norse. It literally means “to grieve”–not with tears, but rage. Consider everything that Chris has lost and all that he has been through and it is certainly easy to understand why he is so angry so much.
The only alleviation that Chris has from his sweltering rage, his immense grief, is drinking. He is not angry after he has had beer. And since Chris doesn’t like being angry, he drinks a lot of beer.
In When Lightning Strikes, I mentioned that because we are all made in God’s Image, there is a part of us that is always seeking the fulfillment that only He can give us. And when we don’t seek Him diligently–or maybe more to the point–when our burdens seize us and consume us like a nightmare that never ends, we turn to other things.
Like alcohol.
And the spiritual restoration that I discussed in When Lightning Strikes takes quite a while to complete. For example, it was ten years after my friend, Charlie, was brutally beaten and stabbed to death until I could pray, mercifully, for his killer.
And yet, like a well-trained athlete, that race gets easier once we’ve “run with horses” (Jeremiah 12:5). As I had mentioned in When Lightning Strikes, it was less than two years after Britany’s suicide that I had offered an invitation to an accused rapist to attend a Bible study at my house.
There is a big difference between ten years and two years. Fortunately, God patiently guides us through that step-by-step process every time, coaching us the finish line of our lives that we may receive our reward.
If I had to guess, I’d say Chris is on Step 4. Because the great tragedies he has endured have left him with an enormous hunger and thirst for justice. And Chris has been starving for so long that his soul is sick.
That reminds me of someone else who survived a great tragedy and got really drunk afterwards. Most people know the story of Noah’s Ark, but The Bible also tells us that Noah planted a vineyard and drank a lot after The Flood was finally over (Genesis 9:20-21).
Imagine seeing the strongest swimmers drowning in the cruelest currents. Imagine hearing all those people screaming for Noah to let them on board The Ark. Imagine seeing all those bodies drifting in the waters for weeks and months at a time. Imagine enduring the global survivor’s guilt Noah must have had.
Let’s face it–If you had seen all of those people die, you’d probably plant a vineyard and have a few drinks yourself. And yet, Noah was still considered the most faithful man of his generation.
Isn’t it ironic that the man who survived The Flood sought to drown his sorrows in drinking?
And, yes, I know what The Bible says about excessive drinking, but the moment I condemn someone else am I not condemning myself (Romans 2:1)? Being the only sober child from a long family line of alcoholics, I am very much aware of the consequences of alcoholism.
And I certainly know that some alcoholics get dangerously angry when they drink. When that happens, I know it’s time to leave. But I also know that tomorrow is always a new day. That is why I try my best “not to let the sun go down while [I am] still angry” (Ephesians 4:26b). Of course, there are times I fail tremendously.
But I am not enabling alcoholics or supporting excessive and irresponsible drinking. Nor would I ever dare to make excuses for somebody’s drinking. However, having had hundreds of conversations with dozens of recovering alcoholics, I have made an effort to understand it.
And I have learned the limits of what I can do, which is precisely why I stopped trying to control someone else’s disease a long, long time ago. I have also learned that it takes more effort to ask out of compassion “What’s wrong?” than to say in condemnation “Don’t do that!”
But God has always taken me as I am. So I figure it’s only fair that I try my best to take others as they are–especially people like Chris. (What a great friendship I could have lost! Besides, who would ever play air hockey with me so much?)
I am also convinced–like so many others who have made such detailed examinations–that alcoholism is a disease which no science, no medicine, no technology will ever be able to cure.
Alcoholism is a spiritual sickness that manifests itself in the form of a physical disease–which was certainly true in the case of Noah. And it is true for Chris as well.
And like Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick” (Matthew 9:12, Mark 2:17, & Luke 5:31).
With three different references to the same verse, I figure God must be pretty serious about that statement.
Do you see the physical symptoms with the hard eyes of arrogance and condemnation or the spiritual sickness with a heart of humility and compassion?
