10/05/2026
I read this in The New Christian Counselor and had to sit with it for a minute:
“Not all addiction is sin, but all sin is a type of addiction to run our own lives and be the kings and queens of our domain.”
That statement will probably make some people uncomfortable.
And maybe that is why it is worth talking about.
As someone who has walked through alcoholism and now has more than 14 years of sobriety, I know firsthand that addiction is far more complicated than simply saying, “You sinned, so stop.”
There was pain underneath my drinking.
There was trauma.
Fear.
Anxiety.
Shame.
A desperate desire to numb what I did not know how to carry.
But recovery eventually forced me to look deeper than the alcohol itself.
Because alcohol was not my only problem.
Sometimes the deeper issue was my determination to be the one in control.
To manage the pain.
Manage the people.
Manage the outcome.
Protect myself.
Defend myself.
Fix myself.
And somehow still remain the ruler of my own little kingdom.
That is where this passage challenged me.
Because addiction does not always look like a bottle.
Sometimes it looks like control, approval, busyness, relationships, or the need to be right.
Even religion can become something we hide behind when what God is actually asking for is surrender.
Anything I continually reach for instead of allowing Christ into the deepest places of my heart deserves an honest look.
That does not mean every struggle, coping mechanism, dependency, or addiction should simply be labeled “sin.” Addiction involves spiritual, emotional, relational, and sometimes physical realities that deserve compassion, wisdom, treatment, accountability, and grace.
But I also do not want compassion to keep me from asking the harder spiritual question:
What am I asking this thing to do for me that only God can ultimately do?
What am I using to soothe me?
To validate me?
To make me feel safe?
To give me identity?
To give me control?
For me, recovery began with putting down alcohol.
But transformation has required laying down a whole lot more.
My will.
My pride.
My need to control outcomes.
My need to be understood.
My tendency to fight battles God never asked me to fight.
And I am still learning.
That is part of the Glory in the Story.
God did not simply rescue me from what was destroying me.
He continues to reveal the places where I am tempted to reach for something—or someone—before I reach for Him.
So I would genuinely love to hear your thoughts:
Do you agree with the statement that “all sin is a type of addiction to running our own lives”?
And maybe an even more personal question:
What are some things our culture does not usually call “addictions,” but that can quietly begin ruling our hearts?
Let’s have a gracious conversation about it.
No shame.
No finger-pointing.
Just truth, compassion, and a willingness to let God search our hearts.
Because sometimes the greatest glory in our story begins when we are finally willing to ask:
“Lord, what am I still trying to be my own savior from?”
✨ There is always more Glory in the Story.
