A Loving Goodbye: What Christ Taught Me Through My Addiction

By Austin, Guest Writer

I’ve been sitting with NF’s song “Running,” and it’s been stirring something deep in me. The more I hear it, the more it feels like my own story with Christ and recovery. Not as a battle. Not as a shame-filled knock-out brawl. But as a loving, honest goodbye to the part of me that survived through addiction.

What hits my soul is the compassion in it.

No hatred.

No self-condemnation.

No, “You ruined everything.”

Instead, NF’s lyrics remind me of Christ’s invitation for me to be more gentle with myself.

“I see why you showed up. I see what you were trying to protect me from.

But I can’t let you run my life anymore.”

My addiction wasn’t the villain—just a wounded part of me trying to cope.

I didn’t turn to addiction because I lacked faith or strength. I turned to it because I was hurting, and I didn’t have the tools or safety to face that pain.

Addiction became a shortcut to comfort. A wounded protector. A survival instinct.

Christ didn’t meet me with disgust.

He met me in the middle of the mess—with compassion.

He saw the little kid inside me long before I did.

And as I listened to this song over and over again, I realized the emotions I heard—grief, gratitude, release—were the very ones the Savior had gently walked me through as He began healing the parts of me I used to hide.

Recovery didn’t start when I tried to kill the addict inside me – It started when I acknowledged there was a wound inside, and I began to let Christ heal that part of my heart.

For years, I thought I needed to hate my addiction to be free of it. I thought repentance was beating myself down and punishing myself. It never worked. Shame only drove me deeper into the dark.

Christ showed me a different way.

He taught me to acknowledge why that part of me existed.

He taught me to thank it for helping me survive what I couldn’t handle alone.

And then—only then—did He teach me how to set it down and follow Him into something bigger and new.

It wasn’t about saying, “You’re evil.”

It became, “You helped me when I didn’t know better. But Jesus is leading me now.”

This song feels like the boundary Christ helped me draw.

The phrase “I want what’s best for you, but you’re not what’s best for me.” runs through my head whenever I listen to this song, and every time I hear it, I feel God’s arms around me saying:

"It's okay to let go.

You are safe.

You don’t need that anymore.

I’ve got you."

It feels like speaking to that wounded part of me with love, not hate:

“Thank you for your service.

But Jesus is my strength now.

Your shift is over.”

That’s the heart of my recovery.

Not shame.

Not war.

Now I am walking hand-in-hand with Christ as He teaches me how to let go of my old self with love… and create a new life with Him.