Director’s Notes: When Youths Grow Weak
Most people drive right past them, never suspecting a thing. But in residential neighborhoods all over Phoenix, sober living homes and residential treatment centers are popping up.
In my neighborhood alone, I know of 16 of these houses. These are just the ones I’ve learned about through my ministry. Who knows how many there are in total?
In each of these homes, 6 to 10 individuals live communally. The cost of staying in the home is sometimes covered by insurance. Some homes, charge rent. The worst of them, farm out the residents to low-wage, back-breaking labor. The wages they earn barely cover the weekly cost of staying in the sober living home, trapping the residents in a cycle as pernicious as any payday loan scheme.
But in all of them, individuals interested in sobriety are eating, sleeping, and living their lives.
It’s my job to provide some encouragement to these folks and for some of them, I help them make a plan to stay sober after rehab.
Today I ran a Bible study/support group for about 10 individuals. They come from three different homes and meet in an ordinary suburban living room. The home is about 5 miles from my house and is in a housing development so new, some of the homes are still under construction.
We read a section from Romans in which the Apostle Paul discusses his frustration with himself. He says he keeps doing things he doesn’t want to do. And he keeps failing to do things he really does want to do. He wraps up the section crying out that he is wretched and needs someone to save him.
In typical support group fashion, we take turns responding to the verse. This question guides our discussion, “do you feel frustrated with yourself? Is there some area where you feel stuck?”
This particular home caters to Native Americans. About 80% of the residents are from a small section of one of Arizona’s Apache Reservations. Some residents knew each other before arriving at this Residential Treatment Center.
The frustration is palpable. One man can’t believe the things he did while drunk. Many are frustrated at their inadequacy as parents. They have children who were removed from their custody. Children as young as 5 years old learned how to hide dad’s stash when the cops came around. Adult children were manipulated and cajoled into giving their parents some money, knowing it would be used alcohol or meth.
Residents are also frustrated that they can not help family members in need. On phone calls and through Facebook they learn that an uncle needs firewood. Or that a cousin is in the hospital. Or that a brother-in-law left a sister to go drinking and the children don’t have warm coats.
They want to go back. They want to help. They want to intervene in difficult situations. But, they suspect they would not stay sober if they returned to the Rez.
Stuck. Frustrated. Weak.
We stop for prayer. It’s too much. No one has a simple answer to the misery. A few offer gratitude that they are sober and healing. They hope to return soon—and they hope to be a force for stability in their communities.
In the second half of the meeting, we review the parable of the lost sheep. Jesus seeks the lost. He rejoices over one recovered sheep.
We take turns speculating this question, “why heaven is so joyful about a single lost sheep being found?”
“Because comeback stories are powerful.”
“Because the one sheep is just as valuable as the 99 that aren’t lost.”
“Because it is great to be complete again. The 99 don’t feel content until everyone is safe.”
“Because Jesus is a doctor. He’s not here for the well.”
Interestingly several people decline to comment. They say things are percolating in their minds and they aren’t ready to give voice to their thoughts. One person says, she feels too emotional to respond. A final person says, “I like what everyone else has to say. Thanks. This question is hard. I need to think some more.”
I wonder why people found it so easy to share their frustrations and feelings of being stuck and found it so hard to share reasons for hope and joy.
Maybe it’s the old Christian conundrum: the Offense of the Cross.
The authors of the new testament, inspired by the Holy Spirit, discuss the fact that God’s undeserved love and mercy are a challenge to contend with. The proud among us refuse to accept a handout. We don’t want to be a beggar, a freeloader, a slacker. We want to play a part in creating the meals we are served. We’d prefer our own cold and meager soup, to the unmerited feast of the Lamb.
But there is another explanation, too. Maybe it is like Mary when she learns about her role in the birth of the savior.
“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19
Maybe the residents are quietly processing the good news.
I can’t know for sure. But it certainly is my hope that the 3-4 people who demurred from speaking were treasuring and pondering the good news. I hope they were contending with the possibility that they were completely forgiven—unshakably, permanently, thoroughly loved, and accepted by the Creator Himself.
It’s my prayer today. That the message of forgiveness, love, and acceptance will become fuel for an internal sobriety furnace that will power them when temptation threatens to destroy their progress:
30 Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
31 but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint [Isaiah 40:30-31]
