Eight days later I had a moment of clarity, a what on earth is wrong with you you idiot? instant of understanding, as I realized that not only had I failed much faster than I would have believed possible, but that I had failed in an epically stupid way. I was on my front porch, in broad daylight, barely a week out of my cage, drinking rum straight out of the bottle. I didn't even have enough sense to pour it into a glass with coke to make it look like tea. All that had to happen was for my parole officer to drive by, look down the drive, see me with the bottle, and I was going to jail, probably back to prison. That afternoon I began my journey into recovery as I called out for help and for the first time admitted I could not control my drinking on my own. I felt afraid that I was going to screw up and have my parole revoked, so I wanted help to quit drinking and to not start drugging again....but for six months. I wanted a break, not a permanent vacation.
Over the next couple of months I tried and failed, but I was trying. People suggested things, and I would somewhat comply. I began working the steps with all the enthusiasm and dedication of a minimum wage employee who hates his job. Not very thorough. I did other things I was told to do. I managed to get two weeks sober and stumbled. Repeat. Then I managed 30 days, which I promptly celebrated by getting both drunk and high about a week and a half before seeing parole. If I tested dirty....I spent those days, guts twisting, waiting for the ax to drop. But by some miracle they didn't test me that meeting, and I had one last chance.
I felt like a mixed up and messed up version of the story of the exodus of the Jews from Egypt. I was both the slave asking to go out and make a sacrifice and the ruler refusing to let them go. Crazy signs were being thrown in my face repeatedly, and I would be convinced, until a short while later, and then it was all, maybe...Maybe I'm not totally a slave. Maybe I can quit just long enough not to violate parole and then I can enjoy my drinking and drugging. Maybe I can drink without drugging. Maybe I can learn how to control it, to manage it. Maybe I won't get caught. Maybe. And then I would take back my decree to do what was necessary to assure freedom. And from the slave side, I kept asking for a break. I wanted to leave the land of slavery for a little while, but I would return. I could easily make that promise, because I didn't really want to leave. I wanted the master to be nicer. I wanted the lash to be less harsh. I wanted the chains to stop hurting and the negative consequences to be excised, but I didn't really want to be free. I didn't want to move permanently into the desert wilderness, and I didn't really believe in the Land of Promise. There were things about my Egypt that were comfortable, that I liked, that I did not want to give up for the sun and sand and uncertainty and barrenness of the desert.
Finally that moment came. That Passover moment. No, no one died. But it was still one of those things in which everyone around me, seeing what had been happening the first three months of my release all said now? Now are you whipped? This was like the last plague after a long list of things that would have made even a half sane person repent and stop fighting, but not Pharaoh. Pharaoh was an idiot, and so was I. Something had to happen so horrible, so messed up that Pharaoh didn't let the Jews go, he drove them out, and something had to happen that made me not want to escape parole, not take a break from my chains, but scream to the sky NO MORE! I want to be free! I had to reach that place of desperation where the cageless desert became more appealing than even a gilded cage in bondage.
So began my journey toward the Land of Promise. By the way, I totally believe the promises now. But at the moment it really started, I wasn't chasing promises. I was escaping into the desert. I lost some things. More than just chains were set aside. And like the Israelites, I had my moments of looking back longingly for the leeks and onions, for the things I missed. I could ignore or forget the memories of death, destruction and misery and longingly crave the things I would remember as pleasurable, comfortable, etc. The desert wasn't fun. I also needed a barrier, a Red Sea, between myself and going back to make me commit and journey too far out to return. Still, I did relapse once more. I did go back to Egypt for a couple of months after being free 15 months. I did double duty to make up for all the work I'd missed and nearly built my own tomb.
My second exit to the desert was not fleeing slavery and bondage. I left the certainty of approaching death and a life so miserable I'd be glad when it arrived for the desert I had dreaded for years but had finally realized is where, despite possible hardships and lack and struggle and....would be found a life worth living. The desert is the least appealing place to most of us, most of the time. It is a place the self doesn't do well. Yet, it is in the desert and the solitude and exposure and stark need there where we can find God.
Jesus went into the desert to pray. Before His ministry began, He spent 40 days fasting in the desert and then being tempted. He left there strengthened and committed. John the Baptist spent years in the wilderness (some scholars say 30 years) preparing to prepare the way, and he never completely left until he was thrown in prison. Elijah and Moses had their deserts as well. Some of us are quick to say we want to be free, but we want to skip the journey through the desert, thank you very much. We want to be free of consequence or we want to skip the desert and be instantly transported to the Promised Land. Some of us say we want to serve God, to be used of God, but we want to be comfortable and selfishly blessed in the preparation and during our service. But if we are going to be truly free, and if we are going to be of maximum service to God and others, we will have a desert. It's not all going to be comforts and indulgence. Why? Because self never dies when it's comfortable. Because we never get desperate with distractions and options. God uses the deserts to bring us to that place where nothing else matters but knowing and relying on Him. He uses the desert to make us drop everything that isn't truly essential, that doesn't serve a purpose, that won't enhance our relationship with Him and the life He gives. The desert is not to be avoided. The desert is divine. It is the place where we can see that nothing else matters but our relationship with Daddy.
Unshackled Life Ministries is grateful for every person that reads the daily Unshackled Moments, the weekly Unshackled Echo and or listens to the Audio Messages. I want to thank those who have clicked "like" on something that blessed or ministered to them on social media, commented on the blog or replied to an email subscription. It is encouraging to know that God is using this ministry to help and bless others. Please remember that if God used something from this ministry to help, encourage or bless you, it could also bless someone else. Would you help get the devotions and sermons to more people by sharing this? Hitting the share button or forwarding this to a friend will help us reach more people with the good news of freedom and the encouragement to live an Unshackled Life. Thank you and God bless.
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