This is a guest post by a dear friend. A friend who has journeyed through an immense amount of suffering to find their sobriety. If you find yourself in a valley, this will be well worth the read. Enjoy!
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When the fields are dry, and the winter is long
Blessed are the meek, the hungry, the poor
When my soul is downcast, and my voice has no song
For mercy, for comfort, I wait on the Lord
Suffering. An emotional state no human wants to endure but which is very much a part of this natural life. A job loss. A prodigal child. A crumbling relationship. An addiction. A Relapse. A season of depression.
There is a sobering effect with suffering. It draws our attention near, causes us to examine ourselves and our circumstances. But how does one suffer well? Is there such a thing? Can we suffer gracefully amidst tragedy and seeming defeat?
Nearly six months ago I lost the legal right to see, visit, or correspond with my young daughter. It has been a time of pain and sorrow, a time of loss and sadness. A spectrum of emotions wage within me—anger, angst, frustration, hatred, guilt. But certain days reveal to me glimpses of hope and greatness. Yes, there is hope and greatness in my situation.
A measure of introspection revealed much to be changed about me. Surely my outlook must change, or I must surely die. At that moment, life, and all it has to offer, hung in the balance with my desire to die. Alcohol and drugs had had their way with me. They had transformed me into an insane, angry, detestable monster, full of disdain for life itself. I was like a tornado, ravaging everything in its path. Yet, I was the victim.
Addiction mixed up my feelings and emotions. What’s up was down. What’s wrong was right. This caused me to become a victim of my circumstances. It was my former wife’s fault—if she weren’t so obstinate and hateful. It was the judge’s fault—if he would’ve only understood. It was opposing counsel’s fault—they certainly know how to twist the facts. It was my parent’s fault—they mistreated me so. You see the pattern. It was never my fault.
Broken, hopeless, helpless, and seemingly victimized through all of this, I was afforded a glimpse of myself. The lowest common denominator in my life—the one thing that permeated every facet of my being—was drugs and alcohol. If we think back to our high school Algebra coursework, the lowest common denominator can be turned into something useful. If we search hard enough for it, it will help us solve the difficult equations. By searching hard enough for it, I found the crux which my entire life revolved around. No real change, no real progress, no significant problem-solving could take place without first admitting that I was an alcoholic and an addict. Later I was to realize that I could either drink and use, or I could do everything else. By the grace of God, I was afforded a chance to do everything else.
Eliminating alcohol and drugs from my life left my soul bare. A fresh wound with nothing to cover. I had no mechanisms to cope with the loss of my child from my very arms. What I was left with was the raw emotions of suffering. I needed relief.
We must rise to life’s challenges. To suffer well, we must embrace the ideas of honesty, acceptance, and community.
That fateful day I learned I would not be able to see my daughter until certain conditions had been met, I telephoned my minister and we met for dinner later that evening. He is a kind and compassionate man. He wanted to help me and in exchange he wanted me to promise him certain things. “I will not tolerate any “crap”, he said. My pattern of white-washing, covering up, avoiding, and outright lying had caught up with me.
In order to fairly evaluate myself, I had to become rigorously honest. I had to face the fact that I no longer had any “crap” to hide behind. It never served me any good and only compounded my problems. There is immense freedom in honesty. Learning to be brutally honest with myself about every aspect of my life and all my character defects, and being equally as honest with my fellows, I started to suffer well.
In the harvest feast or the fallow ground,
My certain hope is in Jesus found
My lot, my cup, my portion sure
Whatever comes, we shall endure
Whatever comes, we shall endure
“Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today” says the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. And what peace there is when I just let go. If I get cut off in traffic—acceptance. If I can’t see my daughter for a year or more—acceptance. If I am misunderstood and the facts twisted against my favor—acceptance. There is freedom in accepting that which I have no control over. Life can be difficult, nay, life will be difficult. In order to suffer well, I had to learn the concept of acceptance. Until I cease fighting and learn to accept life on life’s terms, I will be a miserable human being.
Community is also an important component if one is to suffer well. In my addiction, I became a recluse and a nobody. I drank and used so I didn’t have to feel. I drank and used to (try to) become someone I wasn’t. I avoided people because, honestly, dishonesty is exhausting. Whether it be a small group from your church, a close circle of trusted friends, or a Twelve Step group; reach out and you’ll find a whole bunch of arms reaching back at you. To suffer well, we must learn to engage those around us—and we can only do that by being honest enough with ourselves to ask for it. Our closest confidants, or our Twelve Step groups, they do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.
Finding sobriety, and suffering well, I am certain that I’ll be a father like never before. I’m certain that I’ll be a friend to my former wife. I’m certain I’ll be an entirely changed person. I’m certain I’ll become happy, joyous, and free. I’m certain all things will be made new.
When the earth beneath me crumbles and quakes
Not a sparrow falls, nor a hair from my head
Without His hand to guide me, my shield and my strength
In joy or in sorrow, in life or in death
Lyrics by Sandra McCracken, “In Feast or Fallow Ground”
