A Boy Named Sue

On a recent road trip, I introduced my daughters to a couple of old-time country songs from my childhood. "A Boy Named Sue" by Johnny Cash and "Big Bad John" by Jimmy Dean. They're story songs and I learned to appreciate both in a new way that day.

The first is an irreverent, but solemn song about a man who hunted down the father that left him as a child after naming him Sue. A fight ensued when he finally caught up with his aged father. With the intent to kill, he attacked the man who'd given him the name that caused him so much pain. The old man fought back with surprising vigor. Eventually Sue overcame his father who, submitting to his fate asked, his son to consider his reasons.

Son, this world is rough
And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough.
And I knew I wouldn't be there to help you along
…
Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do

But you oughtta thank me, before I die
For the gravel in your guts and the spit in the eye
Cause I'm the #$%! That named you Sue.

The second is a reverent song celebrating the life of a large, shy man who drifted into a mining town and quietly went to work. Rumors spread and his name was defiled. The other men had fun at John’s expense. Then one day, things changed in an event that would live forever in the hearts of the men he worked with.

Then came the day at the bottom of the mine
When a timber cracked and men started cryin'
Miners were prayin' and hearts beat fast
And everybody thought that they'd breathed their last.
'Cept John.

Through the dust and the smoke of this man-made hell
Walked a giant of a man that the miners knew well
Grabbed a saggin' timber, gave out with a groan
And like a giant Oak tree, he just stood there alone,
Big John

That night, every miner in that mine returned safely to their homes. All but one: Big John.

Later during the road trip, in a quiet moment, I couldn't help but to see God in those roles.

Like Sue’s pa, God gave me weaknesses to make me strong. I've hated Him for my weaknesses and I've wrestled with Him over their necessity and how to overcome them. At the end of the song, Sue choked up and called his opponent 'Pa!'. His Pa called him 'Son!'. And Sue went away with a different point of view. Today, I call God Pa and I see him as a young, vigorous, close friend.

Like the men around Big John, I've defiled God’s name, and I've even made fun. And yet, like Big John, God went quietly to his death to make me safe. And now, with new eyes, I consider the cross, wipe away a tear and with a halleluiah!, I spiritually embrace my Savior.

By Ty, Writing Team

Hurt People Hurt People

One of the most awful paradoxes of my addiction is that I worked hard to try and get people I didn’t know to like me and that I repelled those closest to me.

At the height of my acting out, I was hurting those who loved me the most on a regular basis. It was an out of body experience. Jailed in anxiety and depression, I sat by and watched the addict attempt to burn everything in its path to stubble.

On a self destructive rampage, I just about lost everything from my job to my family to my soul.

For me, the narrative was that I was unlovable. So I needed to give my wife and my kids, coworkers and neighbors a reason to let me go. In my delusional state of self loathing and destruction, I had decided it was in their best interest and protection to run for the hills and leave me behind.

It was literally Hell.

And I was - and still am - completely powerless over it. This paradox became my God and I worshiped it regularly and without the ability to control or refute it.

Various forms of recovery came. The try harder method only worked in spurts, followed by more intense acting out. But man did I give that one a go and I sometimes still do.

An initial turning point for me was when I prayed for God to let me see the consequences of my actions played out to their conclusion. One night I had more than a dream. It was a vision that shook me for days. I got to see me and my asinine actions through my wife’s eyes and my oldest daughter’s eyes. I didn’t wake from this one. It replayed over and over again throughout the day and night. I wanted to die but realized that would bring no relief to anyone involved.

I began to pray for anything to salve my soul. And for the first time in a very long time, I began to feel peace. And beyond my understanding, I also began to feel loved.

Fast forward to my first Warrior Heart boot camp several years later. I walked in not knowing what to expect. Was it going to be three days of singing hymns and being told what I was doing wrong? More tricks of the trade to stop acting out? I had been to enough 12 Step meetings that I figured at this point I should be able to teach the 12 Steps. Yet recovery eluded me and I measured success by the days, weeks and months of abstinence. At times I felt Divine love but didn’t feel worthy of it.

The first guy to get up essentially told my story but with more graphic details. Abuse. Feeling unworthy of love. Self destruction. Destroying others. It was a 2x4 to the head.

Over the next few days and in return journeys to the mountains with different brothers in different states it has been cemented in my soul - God loves me no matter what.

I came to understand that I was hurting people because I was hurt.

My wounds were deep but the wounds Christ took on willingly are infinitely deeper. I felt worthless but Jesus had purchased me at a great price.

I am worthy to be in recovery and to share recovery BECAUSE He loves me. His love IS THE ANSWER.

I couldn’t wait to be perfect to do good things. What I now had was a confirmation that God loves me no matter what and what the world needed to know is that He loves them too.

If hurt people hurt people, then loved people love people.

And to be recoverED, I need to manifest that love constantly and consistently. And that is the peace I walk in fairly consistently today.

And when hurt people hurt me, I feel Christ - my older Brother’s hand on my shoulder reminding me that when I was hurt I did a lot of hurt. And that judgment is His to keep but compassion and empathy have been given to me in abundance and now I can give the same to others. Even when they are trying to use or abuse me.

God loves you. All the time and all the way. Give into it and let it consume you. He will take you on many great adventures and restore you. He loves you because He loves you. I promise this and pray you can give it a little room to settle into your heart.

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By Pete, Writing Team

He is Mighty

God, or a higher power, is a large part of the culture in addiction recovery circles. He's central in 12 step programs and His position can be elevated or subdued in other programs, but He's nearly always in the culture.

This aspect of the culture infuses our recovery efforts with the hope of being healed from addiction by an external source. Some of us know people who have had experiences with God after which they feel sometimes instantly, but always lastingly healed of addiction. The rest of us have heard rumors of these people. For me, it prompts the question: Why, then, does our culture, even within 12-step groups, seem to rest most heavily on self-help principles?

I love that my recovery group studies topics like goal-setting, self-mastery, connection, wounds, and boundaries. They have provided me insights and a measure of peace and hope, but not lasting recovery. Adding more God and especially shifting weight to the expectancy of an experience with Him advanced my recovery.

I recently read the book, "He is Mighty to Save" by Vardell Taylor which reinforced my conviction that my recovery is entirely a result of God's intervention. Taylor chronicles his experience with God in which he is nearly instantly changed after finding himself in desperate despair over his sins and his failing family business. He begins his story with what we might call 'rock bottom'. He was completely defeated at his moment with God and he fully embraced that defeat. In that moment, he begged God for mercy and he got it. Tears flowed as peace, forgiveness, and healing washed over him. His life was never again the same.

The book continues with Taylor's search for an explanation for what happened in that moment. His suggestion that he was able to identify a formula is the backbone of the book. Here are some highlights of his formula as I understand it.

• Understand my nature: I'm nothing. Without Him, I will fail. Ultimately, I can't do it.

• Understand God's nature: He IS love. He's pleased, not disappointed; close, not distant; engaged, not distracted; safe, not dangerous. He's mighty, not weak and He's eager to use His power for me. He can do it. He doesn't want to make me a drone, He wants to make me more me.

• Accept that a moment will come when this all combines in a powerful mix of despair and hope and embrace it when it does.

• In that moment, surrender and cry out for His mercy.

In Taylor's moment of surrender, the weight of hope had shifted from self to God. He was nothing and God was everything. His efforts had failed and a measure of trust that God could help was present. Taylor uses the word Redemption to describe what followed his surrender. He emphasizes that redemption isn't perfection; that God offers it even though He sees our future shortcomings.

This redemption is not just worth it - it's amazing! Taylor's book strongly resonates with me because years ago, I had an experience with God that parallels his. Prior to that moment, I was an addict, afterward, I was not. This wasn't a panacea; life still presents its challenges, and I continue to battle temptation. However, I now have control, and my compulsions no longer dominate me. Further, this book has strengthened my resolve to continue a fruitful practice of daily surrender in which I acknowledge my nothingness and God's might. I've found a productive balance between this and the pursuit of the benefits of self-help.

Self-help's ultimate gift is its ability to draw me to a moment in which my reliance on it is burned up and I am left empty handed at the doorstep of God's mercy. It's precisely when self-help fails that I can reach for and find God.

"A serious moral effort (self-help) is the only thing that will bring you to the point where you throw up the sponge (throw in the towel). Faith in Christ is the only thing to save you from despair at that point."
― C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

"I had never been taught that at some point my decision to follow Christ would actually lead to feeling worthless and fallen. I had never heard that feeling discouraged was normal-even beneficial, and just another temporary step in my progression."
― Vardell Taylor, He is Mighty to Save

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By Ty, Writing Team