Addiction: The Human Struggle We Can’t Pretend We Don’t Understand
- Peter Hamm
- Apr 23
- 3 min read
Let’s get real.
Addiction isn’t just some tragic headline or a problem for “those people.” It’s not always some dramatic rock-bottom moment in a movie. It’s closer than that. It’s the friend who drinks to sleep, the guy at work with a painkiller smile, the sister who hides her vape like it’s a dirty secret. Maybe, just maybe… it’s you.
Addiction doesn’t care about your background, your faith, or your reputation. It’s not picky. It doesn’t knock. It just walks in, sits on your chest, and dares you to breathe.
Why? Because addiction is human.
Not a flaw in someone else’s wiring. Not a moral failure. It’s a human condition—something inside us all that hungers for comfort, control, escape. And yeah, it lies.
Addiction Is a Shape-Shifter
It looks like a nightly drink that turns into ten.
It looks like hours lost to TikTok, porn, gaming, or endless scrolling.
It looks like gambling, overworking, binge-eating, or being unable to say “no” because you crave approval like a fix.
Addiction doesn’t care what it uses to numb you. All it wants is to keep you from feeling, from healing, from dealing.
The Red-Hot Stove of Addiction
Here’s the ugly truth: the addictive brain doesn’t think like the normal brain.
Imagine two people. They both touch a red-hot stove. Both burn their hand. The next day, the normal brain says, “I’m not doing that again.” But the addictive brain? It stares at the stove and thinks, “This time, it’ll be different. This time, I won’t get burned.” And then it reaches out again.
And again.
And again.
And Again
That’s not stupidity. That’s bondage.
"All of us, like sheep, have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way..." — Isaiah 53:6
Every one of us has touched that stove in some form. Some just hide the scars better.
Addiction Feeds on Pain
It feeds on silence. On secrets. On shame. It whispers:
“You deserve this.”
“You’ll never change.”
“This is who you are now.”
But those are lies.
Because here’s the good news: Jesus didn’t come for the ones who have it all together. He came for the burned hands, the tired hearts, the ones who can’t stop reaching for the stove.
“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses…” — Hebrews 4:15
He gets it. Every temptation. Every pull. Every time you swore it was the last time and meant it. He’s not looking at you with crossed arms—He’s reaching for you with scarred hands.
Shame Is a Prison. Compassion Is the Key.
Let’s be honest. Shame keeps us stuck. It tells us to hide, to fake it, to go it alone.
But compassion? Compassion cracks the door open. It says, “Me too.”
It doesn’t excuse the behavior—but it understands the battle.
When we choose compassion:
We stop judging and start listening.
We stop shaming and start supporting.
We stop pretending we’ve got no struggles and start admitting we do.
Because healing doesn’t start with denial. It starts with surrender.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28
You Don’t Have to Stay Burned
If you’re stuck in that cycle—hand to stove, again and again—you’re not hopeless. You’re not broken beyond repair. You’re just human. And there is a way out.
Not through white-knuckle willpower, but through radical surrender. Through saying, “I can’t do this alone,” and letting God walk you through the fire into freedom.
Here’s the truth:
Addiction may be part of your story. But it doesn’t get to be the last chapter.
Jesus doesn’t flinch at your struggle. He moves toward it.
You are not beyond help. Not beyond grace. Not beyond change.
So stay with us.
This journey isn’t about pretending we’ve arrived. It’s about walking the road together—burned hands, bruised hearts, and all—toward the only One who can truly heal us.
Next up: “What’s Changed and What Hasn’t: Lessons from the Past.” We’re going there.
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