My Name Is Child of Light

My Name Is Child of Light

There are numerous secular recovery programs that help many people to reform their lives. But only Jesus Christ gives us an entirely new life. That new life is one of total transformation from darkness into “light in the Lord” (Ephesians 5:8). We must make sure we don’t stop short of this goal.

When is a thief no longer a thief? When he stops stealing? Society, the world, and our culture might settle for that response. But Paul provides a higher standard. A thief is no longer a thief when he not only has stopped stealing but also is seeking hard work as a means of sharing with those in need (see 4:28).

Paul offers many similar contrasts in this passage. Most of us can probably find our “former way of life” and our “old self” (4:22) in his writings. However, running down the road to recovery while looking over our shoulder results in a lot of unnecessary bruises. So as we advance down the road of recovery, it’s crucial that we also identify our “new self.”

Recovery is forward-looking. We entered recovery in the first place because we’ve experienced the damaging dangers of the darkness (see 4:17-19). Every single child of the light was, after all, like ourselves, “once darkness” (5:8). We’re discovering that we can “put off [our] old self . . . to be made new . . . created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness” (4:22-24). We are in the process of becoming an accurate reflection of God. Our goal is to “live as children of light . . . and find out what pleases the Lord” (5:8, 10).


My Name Is the Enemy of God

My Name Is the Enemy of God

According to Romans 5:1-11, each of us is either God’s child or God’s enemy. Paul’s words offer reassurance to suffering Christians. He wants his readers to know that their misery doesn’t signify that God has rejected them. The apostle reasons that, if Jesus died for us when we were still God’s enemies, he certainly won’t abandon us after we’ve joined his side (see v. 10).

As God’s children we begin to recognize that the path of trials, when traveled with perseverance, improves our character. And God is more interested in our character than in our comfort. Our improved character may be identified as an informed hope and a deepened experience of God’s love (see vv. 3-5). That Christ lives in us becomes apparent when our endurance of suffering differs from that of an unbeliever.

As children of God, we don’t have to react negatively and powerlessly to changing circumstances. Instead, we can respond positively and proactively to Jesus Christ. This new capacity isn’t our creation but God’s. Jesus made this attitude possible at the point where we were most incapacitated, at our worst rather than at our best (see v. 6). Understanding that Jesus came to restore relationships, not to establish another religion, is the key to enjoying reconciliation. As we grow in our relationship to him, God removes anything in us that has separated us from him (see vv. 9-11).

Jesus died for our sins once and for all (see Hebrews 7:27). And he did this while we were helpless, ungodly sinners and enemies of God. Therefore, we can pray confidently, knowing that God’s love for us can’t be diminished by any failure on our part. We can pray for direction and power, knowing that, since we have already “been reconciled,” there’s no doubt that we’ll “be saved through his life” (Romans 5:10).

My Name Is Esther

My Name Is Esther

As we travel the road to recovery, fear may slow us down. It’s not that we expected the trip to be easy. But some elements can be intimidating, like listing and then sharing all the ugliness in our life with another human being. Esther experienced the degree to which fear can make us falter.

Her people, exiled Jews then scattered across the Persian Empire, faced extermination because of the vicious plot of Haman (see Esther 3). Esther, in her role as queen, was their only hope. Mordecai had become his cousin’s guardian after the young Esther’s parents had died. He now sent a message and documents to Esther detailing the vile scheme and asking her to go to the king and beg for mercy. This was risky business. Esther’s predecessor had angered the king and lost her position. To appear before him without a summons could result in execution (see Esther 4:11). Esther understandably balked at what she had to do. She was afraid.

Mordecai responded to her hesitation by pointing out that her refusal would mean her own death, as well as the deaths of her father’s family, and that her position may well have been given to her in light of the crisis her people now faced (see v. 14).

Esther, to her credit, responded to the reasoning of a man she trusted, fasted to gain spiritual strength and insight, sought the support of others in her preparations, made a commitment, accepted the potential price (death) she might have to pay (see vv. 15–16), and developed a plan (see Esther 5-7).

God graciously protected Esther. When she entered the king’s chamber, he granted her an audience and listened to her petition. Carefully and methodically Esther moved through her meticulously developed plan.

The product of her faith and hard work was her own survival and that of her people. When fear causes us to falter in our recovery, we must seek help. We must go to our accountability partner, sponsor, recovery leader, pastor, or Christian counselor. We don’t have to face our fears alone if we take the risk. Our recovery and the well-being of our families require action. However hard the next step might be, turning back now will have tragic consequences both for us and for those we love.

My Name Is Delilah

My Name Is Delilah

Delilah was devoted to a life of deception. Her greatest “accomplishment” was the destruction of a man who loved her—a man named Samson. Samson was an easy target for her trickery, since women were this strong man’s greatest weakness. Delilah’s con was paid for by the Philistine rulers in the staggering amount of “eleven hundred shekels of silver” (about 28 pounds) each (see Judges 16:5).

Isn’t it amazing the degree to which living a lie makes us susceptible to the lies of others? Three times Samson misled this wily woman, and each time she complained, “You have made a fool of me” (vv. 10, 13, 15).

In reality, Delilah needed no help in the area of foolishness. She prostituted herself to land a fortune in silver, a ruse that included lying to a man who was in love with her. After her successful betrayal of Samson, Delilah disappears from the biblical account. Her inheritance: the knowledge that the man who loved her was maimed, humiliated, and enslaved by her deception and greed. By the time Samson awakened to his blindness to the truth, his eyes had been physically gouged out (see v. 21).

How often do deception and addiction go hand in hand? Like Delilah, the addict will weave a web of deception in order to continue feeding his insatiable habit. And, sadly, it’s often easiest to go on deceiving those who love us, over and over again. The end product is a life wasted—our own—and all too frequently other lives are devastated—those we love, or at least those who love us.

The only escape from a life of dishonesty is an encounter with the truth—his name is Jesus. He’s the one who said, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6). If we’ve wasted our lives in self-deception and in the manipulation and betrayal of those who love us, there’s still a way back to God. He can break the pattern of deception. Recovery forces us to face the truth in order to end the insanity that has taken over our life. David voiced a simple prayer that we may wish to make our own: “Into your hands I commit my spirit; deliver me, Lord, my faithful God” (Psalm 31:5).

My Name Is Samson

My Name Is Samson

Samson’s story presents the irony of a powerful and yet absolutely powerless man. God gave Samson incredible physical strength. But neither physical strength nor strength of will can overcome our sinful addictions. Samson’s particular addiction was sexual, and his obsession led him to squander his God-given strength. Addictions are often attempts to meet personal needs through physical pleasures. Each human being comes into this world equipped with a nearly insatiable, lifelong need for love. Only God is big enough to satisfy that demand. In fact, we’re created to love, and to be loved, by God. Sex can seem to be a powerful substitute for love. That shouldn’t be surprising, since sexual love is designed by God to be enjoyed by a husband and wife with such intensity that their intimacy reflects the love Jesus has for his church (see Ephesians 5:28-32).

What was Samson’s overriding failure? He failed to enjoy and share God’s love and the love of others. In addition, he didn’t care enough about his own people to use his strength to set them free. This strongest of men settled for the substitute and sacrificed his God-given asset.

Samson never fulfilled his purpose in life, even though he frequently demonstrated evidence of his amazing power. Regularly in his story we’re told that “the Spirit of the Lord came powerfully upon him” (e.g., see Judges 14:19). If we’ve worked through the first seven principles on the road to recovery, we’ve both experienced and displayed God’s power. However, if we fail to continuously practice Principle Eight, we’re in danger. Recovery includes sharing our experience of change with others. Real recovery will make the needs of others more important to us than our own: “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others” (Philippians 2:3-4).

Samson, like the rest of the judges God empowered, was born to deliver others from bondage. Instead, Samson squandered his gifts on personal gratification. Sobriety doesn’t equal recovery. It’s the beginning point of a process that will help us to fulfill God’s purposes in our lives. Those purposes include using our pain as a platform for proclaiming God’s power to heal broken lives and set captives free.