Addiction, worry, and worship are interchangeable

by Laurie Krieg

This is another one of those posts that I have been writing in my head for years.

I gathered ideas, looked for patterns, and then, well, I’m hoping today is the day I am able to articulate a long-awaited thesis statement: 

I believe addiction, worry, and worship are interchangeable words. 

This is not a new idea. I’ve seen the “Exchange your worry for worship” memes and even reposted them. I still want to flesh it out—perhaps only so I can “know what I think once I see what I say," as EM Forester once said.

Ditching my smartphone for a dumb one has made this concept of addiction = worry = worship even more evident. 

I sincerely love God, and I am trying my best to work on my “stuff” alongside you. But my loving of God doesn’t negate the fact that I’m still in my pre-heavenly state (i.e. a sinner).

If you read my last post, you know I had an addictive behavior of checking my smart phone when I felt anxious, bored, or in need of being seen. I tried to limit it. I was not as addicted as that guy. (Whomever I was hypothetically judging in the moment.) 

I honestly didn’t believe I was addicted until it was gone. Only after it broke did I hear the inner metronome that whispered Check your phone every few minutes like a phantom limb.  

"The best way to tell if you are addicted to something is not...when things are going well, but when you are in trouble," Tim Keller said. "We are all in bed with something, but you can tell when it's taken away."

"[Y]ou are a slave to whatever controls you." --Peter

When it was gone, I felt (feel) free. Younger. Less like my brain is wrinkling its eyebrows from the stress of posting, liking, commenting, and retaining information that is WAY TOO MUCH to retain. 

I also found I like people more as individuals. If I’m talking to you, I am really talking to you. If I’m with my kids, I’m really *trying* to be with them. (Emphasis on trying. I don't nail this.) If I’m commenting or liking your posts, I genuinely like them. Instead of half-engaging 5,000 things simultaneously, I am trying to engage less more deeply. 

It’s opening up more of my brain and heart to simply be and feel.

But guess what? Being and feeling are terrible when avoidance is our usual mode of operation. Within days of ditching the smartphone, I found myself running to the freezer more frequently to eat cookies.

I also found myself replacing phone scrolling time with worrying about life. Worrying is a form of worshipping my problems. 

I am made to worship. I am made to be addicted—to one thing. Not God and my phone. Not God and sugar. Not God and fixing my life.

"No one can serve two masters."--Jesus

It is only when I am addicted to (ie. worshipping) Jesus that the rest of my life is righted, including phone use, cookie eating, and healthily caring about my life. 

There is nothing intrinsically wrong with these things.  When I avoid being the person God made me to be in the world he made me to live, that is when anything becomes a problem. Because then I am not living; I am escaping. I am floating.

Those of us who are floating instead of living are neither a threat to the enemy nor an asset to the King. Because we are asleep. Satan doesn't have to mess with us, and God can't use us.

"Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy." --Peter

“Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be." --David

I’ll end with this seemingly strange section from Matthew 12 [emphasis mine]:

When an evil spirit leaves a person, it goes into the desert, seeking rest but finding none. Then it says, “I will return to the person I came from.” So it returns and finds its former home empty, swept, and in order. Then the spirit finds seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they all enter the person and live there. And so that person is worse off than before. 

That phrase about the home, “empty, swept, and in order,” doesn’t mean that the person got rid of something evil and then replaced it with good. Instead, their home is “neither for sin nor for grace, but for sin counterfeiting grace.”

They are ready for whatever might come their way. Which, we slip into sin. We never slip into holiness. 

“Godliness is never accidental,” Beth Moore said. “Neither is victory coincidental. Both stem from up-front, daily resolve….tenacious obedience.”

We cannot simply remove our phones, our sugary habits, or worry. Saying "Stop it" like Bob Newhart doesn't work.  We are addicts. Let’s addict ourselves to the only one who can make us sober through worship of Him.



***
Take the Next Right Step:

1. Read: Every day I start with zero. I don’t wake up like, “Yay! Jesus and humans are great! I love not sleeping!” (I got two kids two-and-under and a job, ya'll.) I’m tired. But then I read and pray, and I feel a bit better. Not outrageously so, but a bit. I joked with one of my sisters this week that you don’t hear yourself “level up” like a video game when you read the Bible. You only see it when you respond peacefully in a situation where you did not before.
2. Tell Someone: With whom are you in relationship—like real relationship? Who knows your addictions and struggles? Both the secret and not-so-secret? Satan doesn’t play fair, and his favorite place to play is in secrets and silence. Don’t let him win. Get someone on your team to exhort you on this journey (and you, them). {As always, let us know how we can help.}
3. Respond: Have you noticed an addictive behavior in yourself? Is it hard to name it as an addiction? Why? Have you ever removed a negative habit in your life, and then felt some other draw immediately? What helps you stay singularly addicted to/worshipping God?