You ask a bunch of guys about their biggest fears, and you hope for some open dialogue. You don’t really expect someone to whisper from the depths of the fog.
“What if I’m hopeless? This addiction killed my dad and my grandma. My sister’s relapsed over and over for fifteen years. And I’ve prayed and done everything I can for a decade, but I keep falling into the same pattern.
“What if I’m broken so bad that even God can’t fix me?”
How are you gonna respond to that? Think carefully, because whatever you say better not rhyme. It better not be some platitude or theological truism. He’s heard them all, and they’re salt rubbed in an open, bleeding wound.
We don’t want to hear “God can’t.” Our first reaction is to argue—God can do anything! And when that fails—you can’t argue your way out of the fog—we’re tempted to retreat to the safety of the Christian cocoon where the light’s bright, the fog’s clear, and people don’t talk about the hopelessness of addiction and depression.
Of course, hopeless IS a lie. God DOES keep His promises. Jesus DOES walk with this man who feels so very alone.
The tough thing is, these things happen through you and me. Jesus offers us the opportunity to be His hands and feet. And that’s tough because we’re talking about a guy who’s lost in the fog. And to help, we have to go where he is—into the fog.
He doesn’t need more Bible studies or worship songs. He doesn’t need to know more or feel better and that’s really hard to understand if you’ve never been there.
He needs us, willing to enter and walk through the fog, willing to be there and stay there through the tough times. For as long as it takes. Even when it’s hard.
Because that’s what Jesus would do.
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