Alcohol trama

He wrote last evening inviting Rhoda and I to dinner in January. Really it’s far more then dinner. Celebration would be a better word. He’s been 5 years sober, working a responsible job, and planning a wedding in June. It’s hard to believe this day has arrived.

He came to church with his parents at one time. I did not know the battles he fought. He was painting odd jobs. I simply knew him as a successful athlete who wrestled in state finals back in High School. I really don’t remember when or how he let me know of his secret troubles and I really don’t remember if he came to me for help, but somewhere along the way I learned that there were some fines to be paid.

I don’t know why I feel I need to fix every problem that comes up. But here was a guy who sat with me in church. When a young persons sits with you in church instinctively I think you feel like his problems are my problems. I remember thinking as we drove from one Justice of Peace office to another clearing the ten charges which had accumulated; I wondered if this is what Jesus felt like when he took on himself the sins of another. I wondered how far should one carry this mandate of real love we feel in the church when we walk in the other’s shoes. How skeptical should our discipline be or how naïve is our trust when we care for another. But there was no one else for him to turn to and the hole was so deep life seemed impossible. I wanted to see him succeed and build from level ground.

We rented a room at a Transitional Living Center in Lancaster, got groceries, set up a budget and I believed we were on our way. How little I know of the power of addiction in ones life. After several months of faithful church attendance all on sudden he disappeared and I found him in the County prison. Seeing him in handcuffs in front of the judge was probably harder on me then him. He seemed to understand the legalities of this world almost as routine. When he served his time of 6 weeks we checked into Water Street Rescue mission to start once again. He did not believe he needed the year long program they administer. He thought he was strong enough to start fresh once more. He wanted to get a job and get on with life. Again this commitment lasted a couple of months. I found him next time at the York Prison where he was committed for 6 months.

We talked about the history of his substance abuse. It started innocently enough; looking for highs using alcohol, gradually experimenting with drugs. Working as a supervisor at Dart container he first refused the harder drugs but later experimented and he was hooked. Driving to Reading for his fixes he claimed you could buy a house with the money he spent. Each time in prison he would go through cold turkey and be clean. I wondered how could you be attracted to this “demon” that cost you so much. He looked at me and said, “Jonathan, it numbs the pain”.

When he was discharged Water Street would not accept him any longer. Crispus Attucks was the end of the road. As I dropped him off I asked if I could pick him up on Sunday. He told me he cost me too much, he appreciated what I done, but he needed some space. So your on your own, I asked? “I’m on my own”. He said smiling. We shook hands and I watched him walk into the building. He looked so alone. It made me cry. I felt alone also. But I needed to watch him walk away.

I learned later he was arrested again, this time sentenced to a facility upstate and I lost contact with him. 5 years later, this past year I found him again on facebook. We “friended” each other. He came to church and gave testimony. Now he invites us to dinner. Indeed this is a celebration. Relationships are sacred and forever.

Alcohol and drug use has always traumatized me. Growing up my parents hosted former inmates coming out of prison in the “summer house” attached to the main house. My dad would give them work on the farm until they could establish themselves independently. I remember one morning seeing my mother literally shaken to tears. It was hard for her to talk. She took me over to the summer house to show me the beer cans scattered on the floor. Bill had borrowed a bicycle to ride to Millersville. I was sleeping but somehow Bill came home drunk. Apparently he was talking really loud, using threatening language. My Dad told him to go to bed. In the morning Bill was sober and asked my Dad if he could stay. I’m sure my Dad knew he could not say yes if he wanted to keep his wife.

It’s tough to argue from Holy Scripture for a conviction opposing alcohol use when Jesus himself provided the best wine at a wedding he attended. Paul was opposed to coming to the communion table drunk, but he encouraged Timothy take a little wine for his stomach’s sake, and leaders were not to be consumers of “much wine”. Maybe Solomon’s admonition that ”Wine is a mocker, Strong drink is raging and whoever is deceived thereby is not wise”, is the strongest negative instruction.

It wasn’t till I graduated from High School that I was exposed to alcohol consumption. My dad thought it would be fun for me to take a trip with farmers to a bus trip to Watertown NY to see how farmers used their Harvester Silos. That evening they planned a clam bake. I watched the guys at our table consume pitcher after pitcher of beer and then the protests when the faucet was turned off after several persons actually vomited. Clearly I had never been in a situation where there is strong peer pressure to indulge. This experience and others strengthened my resolve to live alcohol free. When I married, Rhoda had a dark bottle she used for home decor which probably wasn’t a wine bottle but I did not want anything that even suggested it could be. Rhoda and I operate a photography business where I have photographed close to thousand weddings. Alcohol is used as an expression of romantic celebration at many weddings. My greatest worry in business was that my children may believe that alcohol could become attractive, necessary for social identification. I believe I embarrassed my children when I would turned the TV off during super bowl commercials promoting alcohol.

I wasn’t willing to accept that alcohol may be a problem among the people I cared for in our “Karen” population who come to church. Living in denial, the people I cared so much for could do no wrong. Gradually I realized we have a serious problem and life became an emotional roller coaster hopelessness followed by experiences of some success. A father, who had left wife and children to drink with friends on weekends, repents once on the threat of his wife’s divorce, lives happily for over a year, relapses for several months, and repents again and continues to live happily at this point. After cleaning up many garbage bags of cans at an apartment vacated by 4 young men seeking jobs in North Carolina, they begged to return. I tried to negotiate a no drinking clause in my conditions if we bring them back. I thought it may have been working until Rhoda and I returned from a weekend visiting children on a Monday this spring. I got a call from a potential employer needed 4 workers; jobs we needed desperately. I called every phone number I knew trying to get an answer. In desperation I decided I would run into the house where most of the young guys lived. I arrived just in time to meet one guy was leaving for his job. He left me in the house where I saw evidence of last night’s beer binge. What I saw destroyed me. Trash bags of cans, beer spilled on the floor and sofas, and all four were sleeping off their drunken spree upstairs. I think I screamed shaking everyone awake telling them I have jobs today. They shook themselves awake, washing their faces, and we went to apply for the jobs. Today they tell the story of my rant claiming I kicked the cans which I don’t remember, but I suspect it could have happened. I was so angry. But we got the jobs which most are still working.

With this experience we had a renewed commitment to live alcohol free. I think it lasted 6 months. I asked one person they look to as a leader to explain this dependency on alcohol. He said he is a smart person but he does stupid things. I wondered if they drink for happiness when there is so much sadness. He agreed, it is self medication.

I cannot begin to identify with the sadness they do live with. One, a child soldier of 15, bound by the enemy and whipped for 2 weeks, escaped in the jungle, lived in the refugee camps for years, lives here with a wife and daughter in the Thailand camps. Everyone has their own story of tragedy. Is the healing we promise through Christ and his healing body called the church sufficient to fill the vacuum and heal the injury these guys live with? I trust it is.

They lived in such a poor house. In August we found a new house for them. Hardwood floors instead of carpet for them which can be cleaned. The toilet works properly and heating system is more efficient with a washing machine downstairs. The young man who others look to as the leader saw a no smoking sign on wall of an office and turned to me and asked if they could have a sign like that for their house. “You would like one I asked? I would love too”. So I made the poster you saw at the beginning of this post showing pictures celebrating all the good that can be lived for.

Today I am celebrating the victory of the struggle 5 years ago. Maybe I’ll have another dinner invite in 5 years. I’m believing so.