November 3, 2008 Wanting to be God

Several years ago I was loading folding chairs into the trunk of the car after enjoying a Christmas parade in downtown Fort Pierce, Florida. A family happened to be getting into the car parked next to mine at the same time and I overheard the mother and daughter—perhaps nine or ten years old—talking back and forth with some degree of intensity until they reached the bottom line to the conversation:

“No arguing, we need to hurry so that we get to your church play on time,” the mom said.

“But I don’t want to be an angel!” the little girl fussed. “I want to be God!”

I couldn’t resist joining in at that point as I slammed my trunk lid. “Don’t we all, honey. Don’t we all.”

Yesterday, November 2, the topic of the morning’s message in the “Hostage” series was Addiction. A large list of possible addictions was given along with scriptural insight intended to help us avail ourselves of the freedom for which Christ died. My husband David shared his personal testimony of a miraculous, instantaneous deliverance from drugs and alcohol when he was in his early twenties.

What struck me as I listened to the message was that not only are addictions substitutes in our lives for roles only God should fill (whether we are addicted to things like drugs, smoking, or pornography, or to more “socially acceptable” addictions such as spending, working hard, needing constant validation from others, etc.), but also, it boils down to who is going to be God in the first place.

You’ve probably heard the saying “Jesus is either Lord of all or he is not Lord at all” or seen the little diagram in the “Four Spiritual Laws” pamphlets depicting Self on the throne. With our own selves in power, our own desires and plans, we make unwise choices that can eventually turn into addictions.

Think about it—no one wakes up one morning and says, “I think I’ll become addicted to online pornography today.” No one just happens to get addicted to drugs, alcohol, or smoking. No one accumulates $5000 in credit card debt overnight (well, maybe a few people do!). The point is, sin gains a foothold when we do even one thing outside of God’s will. Sin becomes a stronghold as we continue to walk in sin, becoming ensnared and enslaved. What was once “just” sinful behavior becomes a sinful lifestyle, determining our very destiny.

I heard a woman give a simple illustration about sin—think about a white building. Sparkling new paint. Satan doesn’t smear it with black paint—that would be too obvious. Instead, he spritzes a dash of spray paint here and there. Every day. Until one day, the whole building is a dull gray. No one can point to the moment they recognized it was no longer white, but eventually, it was transformed.

Another man used the analogy of a brand new truck. He was talking about keeping a marriage in tiptop shape, but I think it applies to our lives in general. When you bring home a new truck, you’re oh, so careful about pulling in to the garage, where you park, picking up trash each time you get out. Then you come out to the parking lot one day after work, and there’s a little scratch—you didn’t do it, but it’s still there. Instead of polishing it out—it’s so small!—you’re not quite as careful about dinging it up yourself. You stop picking up; litter accumulates in the floorboard and seat. What was once pristine is now common in appearance, even shabby.

The best way to stop an addiction from gaining control is to never begin the addictive behavior in the first place. If you never look at pornography, you will never become addicted to it. If you never smoke a cigarette…if you never spend more than you can afford…if you look to God for affirmation rather than to people…

All easier said than done, of course. Each of us struggles with our own areas of weakness that may or may not qualify for the textbook definition of addiction, but which nevertheless lead us to yank Jesus off the throne of our hearts from time to time. Like the little girl leaving for the Christmas program, we all want to be God.

It’s just that we are so devastatingly bad at it.