I’m sad.

And I’m mad.

Two former members of our community are dead. Talen, age 28, and Giana, age 34. Separate deaths. Separate lives. Both last month.

Both went through our program at different times. Both entered very sick. Both left marvelously changed.

Both had a period of weakness. Both made choices that cost their lives.

Talen was a tender-hearted, loving, simple young man. He didn’t need much to be happy. He was genuine and straightforward, hard-working, and pleasant to be around. He had a knack for making people laugh.

Giana was strong, courageous, and very intelligent. She was diligent and committed to her family as well as her recovery. She had a warm, infectious smile. As her father remarked at her memorial, “Giana was easy to love and hard to hold.”

Two beautiful people gone. Both loved Jesus. One was a son, brother, grandson, and uncle. The other . . . a daughter, mother, and sister.

I am sad for the family members and friends who lost someone near and dear to them. I am sad that the stories of two precious young people ended so abruptly and prematurely. I am sad that none of us in this life will get to know the full potential of who Talen and Giana could have become and what they might have done.

I am sad for them as well, that their burden was so heavy, so overwhelming, and that their pain was so deep, so excruciating. I am sad that the consequences of their actions were so tragic and final and unintended.

I’m mad too.

I hate drugs (the non-medical use). I hate what drugs do to people, families, communities.

Loss. Ruin. Grief. Heartache. Suffering. Fear. Stress. Bitterness. Confusion.

Waste. Emptiness. Regret. Guilt.

Devastation.

I’m mad at the system which perpetuates this crisis. Political, economic, pharmaceutical, educational, governmental, legal, digital, etc. There is a lot of blame to spread.

I’m also mad at those who measure success a certain way, who construe recovery by one singular factor: Rate of relapse. Percentage of individuals who go on to live “normal,” productive lives. Number of individuals who are drug free x number of years later.

Is that really the criterion for success?

Does using less count? Using more safely (e.g., medically assisted)?

What about a prolonged life (two months? two years? etc.)? A less troubled life? A more meaningful, productive life?

How about simply being a more loving person? Someone who is more faithful, more honest, more humble? Are these not just as important as being clean and dry? (I’ve met plenty of mean, stingy, self-centered upright people. I can be one myself.)

Isn’t success about being saved and brought into right standing with God through Christ? Isn’t that enough?

Of course, being drug-free is optimal. It is what we all hope for. But does a relapse or two (or more) negate and cancel out all the positive steps made forward by an individual?

Does a person’s final lap define and capture the essence of his or her life, . . . whether a person enters the success or failure category?

In light of how Talen and Geana’s lives ended, what would you say?

What would their parents say?

I will tell you.

Talen’s father emailed me: “I’m sure you heard about my son. I am thankful we got him through LC. I believe God saved his life then and used LC to save his soul. Truly thankful for you and ALL you do.”

Giana’s stepfather profusely thanked me and our ministry for our services saying, “You gave us three years with Giana. We know she is with Jesus now.”

I’m all for best practices and positive outcomes, but we do not have the final say in what constitutes success and what does not. Moreover, we don’t determine a person’s days or destiny. That alone is God’s prerogative.

According to provisional data conducted by the CDC over the last 12-month period of analysis, drug overdose deaths are projected at 107,477. (This number does not include all those whose drug-related deaths were officially attributed to cardiac arrest, liver disease, pancreatic cancer, etc. nor does it include those deaths which were the result of alcohol consumption nor those fatalities that were indirectly related to drug and alcohol activity such as suicide, homicide, motor vehicle crashes, accidents, etc.)

The figure above represents 1 person every five minutes. Almost 300 people per day.

These are people, not just statistics. Individuals with names. Moms and dads, brothers and sisters, friends, . . . People who loved and were loved.

And people who were part of this ministry. People I had the privilege of doing life with.

The following is a list of the incredible men and women who were once in our program whose lives were lost due to addiction:

Bill, Brad, Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, Pam, Jim, Jim, James, Jonny, Frankie, RJ, Jacque, Mary, Tatiana, Giana, Ryan, Dan, Daniel, Cody, Gary, Shawn, Steve, Talen, Megan, Tim, Tom, Tom, Josh, Josh, Justin, Nate, Tony, Cory, Kevin, Kevin, Kevin, Todd

I’m sad. I’m mad.

But I’m also glad.

I’m glad we as a ministry had the opportunity to be a part in helping to make the lives of these men and women better—temporarily and eternally.

We had the privilege of getting to know some of their stories, their unique gifts and talents, and what made them special. Our lives are better because of what they gave us and what we learned from them.

I am glad that we had the joy of introducing (or reintroducing) these individuals to the amazing love of God in Christ Jesus. These fellow image-bearers became part of our community and heard the life-changing message of the gospel.

I’m glad for those of you who have partnered with us, who have “held the ropes.” Your prayers and financial support have enabled us to put hope within the reach of desperate, needy people. Thank you. Together—by the grace of God—we have made a difference.

And most of all, I’m glad that there is a merciful God who remembers that we are dust (Ps. 103:14). He always factors our weaknesses, limitations, and inabilities in his dealings with us.

If I have learned anything over these past thirty-five years in serving addicts, it is this:

Every human being matters.

No one is too broken whom God can’t redeem.

God is faithful even when we are faithless.

Love never fails.

 

P.S. Talen and Giana, I miss you. Until we meet again in the arms of Jesus, see you later!