Tonight was my second night observing a Celebrate Recovery group (12-step program like Alcoholics Anonymous) for a class paper on support group facilitation. I was moved by honesty of the group participants’ worship. Lyrics like I’m desperate for You, I’m lost without You coupled with men and women kneeling and pleading in worship were enough for me to melt into tears.
And as I sat and listened to them talk about their “hurts, hang-ups, and habits,” I was reminded of one of my own. I’m addicted to comfort.
I bet it’s possible to trace back most sins I am guilty of to a need for comfort.
If an opportunity presents itself to share in a friend’s pain and needs and I don’t do it, it’s because it would have made me uncomfortable.
Similarly, how many times have I felt led to pray with someone right in that moment but instead reverted to “I’ll be praying for you” in fear of the uncomfortable situation that may ensue?
If I was given a chance to live in an underdeveloped country and I didn’t do it, it would be because I would have to give up many comforts.
If a person tries to start a conversation with me inside Target and I hurry away, it’s because it makes me uncomfortable.
And when something comes in the way of my “comfort routine” — comprised of things like taking a long, hot shower, drinking coffee in the morning, and watching Conan at night — I get grumpy.
I can think of about 10 times today I didn’t do something I should of for fear of uncomfortableness. Many of these were instances when I had an awesome opportunity to share God’s love. I am so addicted to comfort it is getting in the way of my relationship with God.
Yet he has given me a vision for my life that is not comfortable. What ways I have been deaf to His urgings because I am so comfortable in the habits I have created for myself?