Someone I love is struggling with addictions.  Addictions that consume them more than any substance they consume.

I planned to write about Advent of Peace this week, but preoccupation has interrupted peace.

This blogpost is my flailing attempt to write about a peace I don’t always feel.

But maybe God is unsettling me to help someone else light their candle of peace?

Let it be my hope, then.

 I hold out for and hold on to the hope of Peace for them, for me, for you… in Jesus’ holy name.

This person I love can no longer love what their heart loves. There is no more space except for the constant need.

Dependency is more than chemical, it’s a heart and soul need taken over by a flesh need.

If I had suffered from amnesia or displacement, say from a long sleep like Rip Van Winkle, or this lady I read about who woke up and didn’t recognize anyone after having a stroke, I’d wake up and not recognize my loved one anymore.

But I’ve been awake all along, painfully aware of the slow transformation. There will be never-ending peace in eternity, but I hope I don’t have to wait until heaven to see them transformed into full glory (2 Corinthians 3:18).

The hardest part for me is to know rebirth is all up to them and God. There’s no five minute makeover for the soul. No drive through rehab for a ravaged heart.

I see glimpses of who they really are through the haze sometimes:  a generous, loving, funny, spritely, creative person who encouraged me through difficult times and celebrated with me in times of joy.

If I were to video them as they are now, I pray they’d see it, too, but I’d fear they wouldn’t see past the body bent by disease and heart damaged by disappointment.

All things tangible are real; all the hurt and all the sadness real; but love is real also, and it sees down through the surface and the sadness of these temporary things.

I don’t know what to do so I pray jumbly tearful prayers ending in long sighs. I know my Advocate is into interpretation (Romans 8:26).

I pray for peace because I know addiction is only a symptom of something more sinister. Something or someone that kills steals and destroys.

But I call upon a power more mighty than principalities of darkness in Jesus’ name (Ephesians 6:12,13).

It’s hard to have peace when shadows loom, a presence we feel but cannot see.  And how easily we mistake that shadow for our own reflection.

But aren’t we children of the light? So why can’t we be lead by light instead of slinking shadow?

I pray for peace because I need it too. To know He has them under His wing means I don’t have to overextend my puny wingspan.

I’m not strong enough on my own but for Grace anyhow (2 Corinthians 12:9).

I pray for peace for my loved one because sometimes our love is not enough.

Yet, it’s what we most want. Someone to love us. But human love always falls short if it doesn’t reflect God’s love. And we’re such poor imitators.

So we need love directly from the source of sustenance.

This person has forgotten many things, but they’ve most forgotten we are loved:  YOU ARE LOVED.

I pray for peace because it’s the child of love. Because peace means rest in the knowledge that we have always-finally been enough to love.

I wonder, if people could see themselves the way Love sees them, would they be more likely to love themselves and each other better?

Our hearts are supposed to pump more than blood, I think. We’re extensions (shoots) of the Life Giver. But we can’t give from a depleted store house, so we foolishly consume or accumulate garbage instead of nourishment. We’re spiritual, emotional, physical junkfood junkies.

I know this because it’s my thorn, too.  Is it yours?

That I’m not quite enough. That I’m not worthy of love. That I’ve finally gone too far for Love to reach.

And it’s the root of my addiction:  I crave acceptance, seeking admiration and affirmation that I’m loved, yet substituting “likes” for love, for peace, for grace. So I accumulate pretty stuff to cover up my true need. No matter how I hang it on my walls or on myself, the pretty stuff is just junk cluttering the corners, substance with no true substance.

So, I know just what they’re doing…

This person that I love, having found no peace in pretty things, has moved on to self-inflicted amnesia, anesthetizing themselves through this painful pruning operation we call life.

If I may be so bold, I want to tell my loved one what God would say if He spoke to them directly:

I see you as a vivacious little child, the apple of my eye (Proverbs 7:2).

You have always been and will always be enough for me (Romans 5:8).

I see you as lovely. I make no mistakes (Jeremiah 31:3).

The person you’ve attempted to erase, my eternal child, I have not forgotten (Hebrews 13:5b).

I am coming back for you (John 14:3).

l see you as worthy of love. I sent Love down for your redemption (John 3:16).

Not even everything you have done can separate us. (Romans 8:38)

The people in your life who truly love you, truly love me; they are my body (Romans 12:1)

When you hold on to them, you depend on Me (John 15:9-17).

Lean into Love, then, and know that I am close to you even in your brokenness (Psalm 34:18).

And, finally, finally find rest and peace. (Matthew 11:29)

We all have our addictions, what is yours?

Are you suffering from lack of peace?

Read all the scripture in the post to yourself or with your family. Did you find peace in these assurances?

What does peace mean to you? Reflect on Jesus’ words in the scripture below as you and your family light the candle of Peace, then discuss what you think Jesus meant:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:7

Pray with me during this Advent season of waiting, that those in need (that’s all of us) would know Hope and Peace.