Blogging – Sacred Sobriety: A Path for the Soul

When Loving God Feels Difficult

“And hereby we do know that we know him, if we keep his commandments.”
— 1 John 2:3 KJV

How do I love God when there have been seasons when I genuinely felt abandoned by Him? How do I learn to trust God when experience has taught me that depending upon someone else eventually leads to disappointment, betrayal, exhaustion, or being left alone? These are difficult questions, but they are also deeply human questions that many people walking through recovery carry quietly beneath the surface of their faith.

For some of us, learning to survive meant becoming fiercely independent because depending upon other people rarely seemed safe. We learned how to anticipate problems before they happened, keep everyone around us calm, meet other people’s needs, suppress our own emotions, and somehow keep moving even when we were falling apart internally. What looked like strength from the outside was often a survival strategy developed in environments where vulnerability seemed dangerous.

Others learned that love meant giving until we were completely drained. We became the rescuer, the fixer, the peacemaker, the person who answered the late-night phone call, covered another person’s consequences, loaned the money, absorbed the emotional chaos, and continually placed ourselves last. Eventually we began wondering why love always seemed to demand that we disappear.

These experiences inevitably influence the way we understand God. If people who claimed to love us repeatedly disappointed us, we may wonder whether God will ultimately do the same. If authority figures were harsh or controlling, commandments may sound less like loving guidance and more like another demand being placed upon us.

This is why John’s words in 1 John 2:3–6 cannot be reduced to a simple command to behave better. John is describing what happens when fellowship with God becomes genuine enough to begin reshaping our lives. Knowing God moves from information into relationship, and relationship gradually begins changing how we think, respond, love, forgive, establish boundaries, surrender, and live.

For those walking a path of recovery, this passage speaks directly to the movement from surviving toward thriving. God is not merely asking us to stop doing destructive things; He is teaching us how to live differently because we are learning who He is, who we are in relationship with Him, and what healthy love actually looks like. Obedience therefore becomes less about religious performance and more about learning to walk with Christ one faithful step at a time.

A Devotional Study through the Johannine Letters

Sacred Sobriety: A Path for the Soul

“My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous: And he is the propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world.” — 1 John 2:1–2

What Happens When We Struggle Again?

What happens when we know what is right, genuinely desire what is right, have prayed for strength to do what is right, and still find ourselves struggling? What happens when an old temptation resurfaces, when resentment begins gaining ground, when codependent behavior returns, when fear starts dictating our decisions, or when a moment of spiritual uncertainty causes us to question whether our faith is as strong as we thought it was? For those of us walking a path of recovery and sobriety, these moments can feel especially unsettling because they remind us that progress does not eliminate vulnerability.

Our immediate response is often shame. We tell ourselves that we should know better, should be stronger, should have progressed farther, or should no longer experience the thoughts, cravings, fears, doubts, or relational tendencies that once controlled us. Before long, a temporary struggle becomes an indictment against our entire identity, and instead of seeing ourselves as people growing in grace, we begin seeing ourselves only through the lens of our weakness.

John offers us another way. He does not minimize sin, excuse destructive behavior, or suggest that grace makes obedience unnecessary. He writes plainly, “These things write I unto you, that ye sin not.” The direction of Christian discipleship is toward holiness, truth, obedience, love, and increasing conformity to Jesus Christ. Yet John immediately follows this exhortation with hope: “And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.”

Failure does not have the final word because Christ does. The gospel does not teach us to deny our weakness, nor does it command us to live beneath perpetual condemnation. Instead, it invites us to acknowledge our need, walk into the light, confess honestly, receive grace, and continue moving forward with Christ.

Recovery Between Temptation and Grace

First John becomes remarkably practical when we place it alongside the realities of addiction recovery, codependency, trauma, dysfunctional family systems, temptation, spiritual uncertainty, and the daily discipline of sobriety. Recovery is not simply learning how to stop drinking, using, escaping, controlling people, seeking constant validation, or repeating destructive relational patterns. Recovery eventually becomes the transformation of how we understand God, ourselves, our weaknesses, our responsibilities, and the grace that enables us to become different people.

John has already told us that Jesus Christ is the Word of Life. He has invited us into fellowship with the Father, fellowship with Christ, and fellowship with one another. He has reminded us that God is light and that genuine fellowship with Him means stepping out of darkness rather than hiding within it. When sin becomes visible in that light, we are not instructed to deny it or pretend it does not matter. We confess it because God is faithful and just to forgive us and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

Now John answers the question that naturally follows: What happens when someone who sincerely desires to walk in the light still stumbles? His answer is not despair, rejection, or permanent condemnation. His answer is that we have an Advocate with the Father.

That truth changes the way we understand recovery. We are not required to manufacture enough righteousness to compensate for yesterday’s weakness, defend ourselves before God, or somehow persuade Him that we remain worthy of His attention. Jesus Christ the righteous stands with us before the Father, and His advocacy rests upon His righteousness rather than our ability to construct a defense for ourselves.

“My Little Children”

John begins this passage with remarkable tenderness: “My little children.” He is not insulting the believers or suggesting that they remain spiritually immature. He is addressing them as members of a spiritual family, speaking with pastoral affection and reminding them of their relationship with God and with one another.

This image carries significant meaning for those of us in recovery. Many people learned early in life that weakness was dangerous, vulnerability invited rejection, emotions needed to be hidden, and personal safety required controlling circumstances or anticipating the moods of others. Some developed patterns of people pleasing, emotional withdrawal, substance use, perfectionism, caretaking, hyper-independence, or codependency because those behaviors once helped them survive environments that felt unpredictable or unsafe.

Jesus calls us toward a very different posture. “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” — Matthew 18:3

Becoming like a little child does not mean becoming childish, irresponsible, naïve, or incapable of mature thought. It means relinquishing the illusion of complete self-sufficiency and learning to trust the Father. It means cultivating humility, teachability, dependence, honesty, and the willingness to receive what God provides rather than constantly attempting to save ourselves.

Recovery eventually brings us to the uncomfortable but liberating realization that self-sufficiency cannot heal us. We need relationship, community, truth, accountability, grace, and ultimately a Father whose love is not controlled by our performance. We need an Advocate who knows both our weaknesses and the way home.

Anchor Verse – “And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.” — 1 John 2:1

John does not tell us that we might someday obtain an Advocate if we become sufficiently worthy. He says that we have an Advocate. Christ’s ministry toward us rests upon who He is—Jesus Christ the righteous—rather than upon our ability to defend our record.

Shame asks, How are you going to explain yourself this time? Grace answers by directing us away from self-defense and toward Christ. We still take responsibility, confess honestly, make appropriate amends, and continue growing, but we no longer have to believe that our worst moment possesses authority to define our entire identity.

Therefore, First John 2:1–2 brings us into one of the most reassuring realities of Christian discipleship. When we stumble, face temptation, wrestle with addiction, experience a crisis of faith, struggle with codependency, or confront the consequences of our own choices, Jesus Christ does not abandon us. He stands as our Advocate before the Father, calling us away from condemnation and toward confession, reconciliation, transformation, and restored fellowship.

John’s description of believers as “little children” also reminds us that spiritual maturity does not mean becoming independent from God. It means developing an increasingly trusting dependence upon Him. For those walking a path of recovery and sobriety, this passage invites us to exchange accusation for advocacy, shame for honesty, isolation for fellowship, and self-sufficiency for a relationship with the Father through Jesus Christ.