Coming clean

First off. Accountability time. I totally snoozed the alarm clock this morning because the kids were still sleeping and frankly I need the rest. But I did do my Bible study. I started the Beth Moore study "Breaking Free" last year but got derailed by major morning (read "all day") sickness and didn't finish it. So I got the audio CD's and I'm going to work through this. I'm so psyched, anticipating how God will move me to a new level of freedom in Him.

But that's not what I want to talk about today.

A dear friend at church is struggling with forgiveness. A family member of hers has sinned in such terrible way that their entire family is being affected. He will go to jail. His wife will have to sell their home and go back to work. Their children will have to go to school since mom will not be home to teach. His sweet little girl has had her innocence taken from her by her own father, the one she should have been able to trust. This man's sin is devastating his family.

We talked about how the situation could have been prevented. We wondered who he could have turned to in the beginning, when the sin was just a seedling, a tiny sprout of temptation. But even though we are ALL sinners, there are some sins the Church does not talk about.

Which brings me to my story.

Some of y'all know this already, but I was a drug addict.

I realize that according to Narcotics Anonymous, I will always be a drug addict, but I reject this idea. I think it reduces the magnitude of Christ's redemptive work to say that my sin is my identity. Addict is who I was. Tamara, God's clean, redeemed, whole daughter is who I am.

After Nate was born, I was working in postpartum/antepartum at a large teaching hospital. I was the charge nurse at night, and part of my duties included going through the narcotics cabinet and discarding outdated narc bags for our PCA's. One day I took a bag home in my pocket. Not sure why. Was I lonely? Tired? Stupid? And I injected it into my blood stream. I was hooked.

Over the next four years I descended into a crazy spiral. I'd steal drugs, and then feel terribly guilty. I would repent and promise myself and God that it would never happen again. Until it did. My husband knew something was up. But he didn't know what it was.

And I was sure I had it under control. If I just prayed harder or had more willpower I would be free. I didn't feel like there was anyone I could confide in. I mean, drug addiction? Stealing? Those aren't things that good girls do. Not things that ORU grads do. Not things that loving moms with small children and houses in the suburbs do. So I kept trying to fight it on my own.

And failed.

Until I got caught.

I was working at a new job after Abigail was born. Only my second day on the job. I had sworn to myself that I absolutely would not start stealing drugs again. I'd been clean through pregnancy, so surely this wouldn't be a problem again, right?

Until it was. And I found myself caught. The nurse manager and charge nurse were coming down the hall and asking me to take a drug test. And I started to sob and confessed.

And felt so free. The process of restoration was hard. The discipline of the Lord is never easy, but it is good. I lost my job. I went to rehab, leaving my 12 wk old baby, my toddler and my preschooler. My marriage suffered greatly. I wondered if we would all make it through intact. I had to go through a 2 yr peer counseling program to retain my nursing license.

But God was faithful. Even when I was not. Today, those days of addiction and craziness seem so far removed. I can't even imagine willfully heading back that direction. I am so grateful for being caught before the consequences were greater. I thank God that while I was acting like a complete freaking idiot, He was still watching out for me. I had been shooting up at work. I drove my car high. I cared for my kids while drugged and somehow had convinced myself that I was a better mom because the drugs made me function so great. At least in my head. But I could have killed someone. And I am grateful every day that my story didn't end with me in jail, having ruined or ended someone's life.

And I didn't want to share this with anyone for a long time. Because it's embarrassing. Because I knew better. Because good Christian girls just don't do things like that.

But the longer we keep silent about our temptations the more they grow. And when we only confess bullshit sins like "I care too much about other people" or "I'm too much of a perfectionist" we won't grow. Honesty is what we desperately need in the Church. Who are we fooling? We walk around like we aren't all sinners who need redemption. Like my filthy rags of sin aren't as disgusting at the next guy's.

So what can we do as a Church? How can we help each other be honest?