It was hard to watch my friend self-destruct. He’d been in recovery for so long. He’d been so successful, so happy. He’d even been named employee of the year at work. But now he was spinning out of control. Forgetting that resentment is poison for alcoholics, he had constructed a long list of grievances against his employer and his organization. And now his resentment had overflowed into the rest of his life.
My friend was angry at his wife (who didn’t understand him), his kids (who quit speaking to him), his boss (who had put him on leave), his church (who didn’t notice all he’d done for them), and his pastor (who he thought was the perfect example of a Pharisee). But the One he was most angry with was God—who apparently had chosen him to fill the role of a modern-day Job.
As I listened, I was reminded of my own tendency to “burn down the house”—to rationalize and justify the most errant nonsense. I wondered what I might say that would make any difference, but that “still, small voice” told me to wait. He wasn’t done ranting, and if I spoke too soon, everything I said would be ignored. So I prayed silently.
My heart connected with his that day as I waited him out. Then, suddenly, he was done. The light switch had been shut off and I was all but dismissed.
I know when someone’s ready to show me the door, so I thanked him for sharing with me, told him I was praying for him, and went back home.
A string of text messages followed. He’d been awake for several days but sleep eluded him. His rants turned into raving laced with profanity. His anger escalated, and he desperately needed to get away, so he made a trip to the mountains. There he would surely find peace.
As he traveled, his text messages became incoherent. And in the middle of the night, I got one saying he was done with me, and the language he used was … well, kind of rough.
As I searched my memory for anything I might have said that could have angered him, I remembered that God had impressed me to keep my mouth shut and just listen. He hadn’t been ready for a solution, so I resisted the urge to share my experience. Instead, I’d told him that I was sorry he was going through all this, that I loved him, and that we’d get through this together.
I’m so grateful the Holy Spirit urged me to keep my mouth shut. God was busy at work on his heart. There was a reason for all of this. And for once, I didn’t get in His way!
A calm feeling filled my heart. I know that calm. It’s what I strive for in sobriety. Peaceful trust that my Heavenly Father has things in control.
I love my friend, but God loves him even more than I do. He always uses the gentlest hand possible—but the pressure will increase! I don’t want to rob him of the experiences that will bring him to the point of surrender.
I relaxed in that serene moment, knowing that God will work things out. Then I remembered another phrase I heard long ago: “Be kind, because everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.”
