Movies and Other Drugs
I'm tired of being drugged up, but I'm addicted.
We're always told about how drugs are bad because they don't take away your problems; they just give you a new problem. I thought I was okay because I'd never touched cocaine or marijuana or even gotten drunk. But my drugs are just more socially acceptable, encouraged even. And they are prolific. And they have been killing me.
What are some of my drugs of choice?
-You liking me and approving of what I do.
-Movies...I mean, I can watch them without it being a problem, but I am also at times a user. I use them to try and get life when what I really want is Jesus.
-Being the ideal woman to random guys I pass on the street or see in the subway, the way that the girls on the posters are. I'll carefully pick my outfits in order to be seen as attractive and fashionable to random strangers. (Let's be honest. A lot of fashion is about being a sex object.)
How have they brought me death?
All of these bright, shiny things I like to play with sparkle like deep, shiny, satiating wells of life, but their water does not make me peaceful and content, but instead, even thirstier than I started. I end up leaning so far in to these wells to try and reach their ever-receding water supplies that I eventually fall in and find myself at the bottom of a dry dirt pit, bones broken, look up at the distant sunshine with no ability of my own to get out of this death trap.
For some reason, it is not natural for me to take the hand of the one reaching in to save me. At this point in the saga, I've made such a fool of myself that I become more concerned with recovering my reputation (getting your approval) than with getting out and finding life. So, I dig deeper and deeper, looking for that shiny supply of liquid that I lost, all the while turning my back on the only one who can save me.
It takes my shovel hitting rock bottom, so that I can dig no more, for me to finally collapse, near death, and let him carry me out.
I am trying to listen to Jesus' voice when he repeats to me the words he said so long ago to another woman at a well: "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:13)
Rehab takes time, but the first step is admitting that I have a problem.
We're always told about how drugs are bad because they don't take away your problems; they just give you a new problem. I thought I was okay because I'd never touched cocaine or marijuana or even gotten drunk. But my drugs are just more socially acceptable, encouraged even. And they are prolific. And they have been killing me.
What are some of my drugs of choice?
-You liking me and approving of what I do.
-Movies...I mean, I can watch them without it being a problem, but I am also at times a user. I use them to try and get life when what I really want is Jesus.
-Being the ideal woman to random guys I pass on the street or see in the subway, the way that the girls on the posters are. I'll carefully pick my outfits in order to be seen as attractive and fashionable to random strangers. (Let's be honest. A lot of fashion is about being a sex object.)
How have they brought me death?
All of these bright, shiny things I like to play with sparkle like deep, shiny, satiating wells of life, but their water does not make me peaceful and content, but instead, even thirstier than I started. I end up leaning so far in to these wells to try and reach their ever-receding water supplies that I eventually fall in and find myself at the bottom of a dry dirt pit, bones broken, look up at the distant sunshine with no ability of my own to get out of this death trap.
For some reason, it is not natural for me to take the hand of the one reaching in to save me. At this point in the saga, I've made such a fool of myself that I become more concerned with recovering my reputation (getting your approval) than with getting out and finding life. So, I dig deeper and deeper, looking for that shiny supply of liquid that I lost, all the while turning my back on the only one who can save me.
It takes my shovel hitting rock bottom, so that I can dig no more, for me to finally collapse, near death, and let him carry me out.
I am trying to listen to Jesus' voice when he repeats to me the words he said so long ago to another woman at a well: "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:13)
Rehab takes time, but the first step is admitting that I have a problem.
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