Carrie Kay
There was a season of my life when I was convinced God had gone silent.
Not because I stopped believing in Him.
But because I couldn’t feel Him.
Addiction does that to you.
It wraps around your mind like fog. It distorts reality. It makes you think the darkness is permanent. It makes you think God is far away — or worse — done with you.
When I read Lamentations 3, I didn’t read it like a history lesson.
I read it like a diary entry from my old self.
“I am the one who has seen affliction…” (Lamentations 3:1)
That’s how addiction feels.
Affliction.
It’s not just “a bad habit.”
It’s not just “a rough season.”
It’s affliction in your bones.
The chapter talks about:
- Walking in darkness instead of light
- Feeling walled in
- Feeling weighed down
- Feeling like prayers are shut out
And I remember praying during my addiction.
I remember whispering, “God, help me.”
And then falling again.
And again.
And again.
And every time I failed, I thought:
“He’s not listening anymore.”
“I’ve gone too far.”
“I’m on my own.”
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“Even when I cry out for help, He shuts out my prayer.” (v.8)
That verse used to scare me.
But now I read it differently.
It’s not proof that God wasn’t hearing.
It’s proof of how broken the writer felt.
Addiction lies to you.
It tells you:
- God is tired of you.
- You’re too dirty.
- You’ve asked for forgiveness too many times.
- You’ve used up your grace.
But Lamentations 3 doesn’t end in despair.
And neither does addiction recovery.
The Turning Point: “Yet this I call to mind…” (v.21)
That word yet changes everything.
The writer shifts from:
“I am stuck.”
“I am crushed.”
“I am forgotten.”
To:
“Yet this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope.”
Hope doesn’t come from feelings.
Hope comes from remembering truth.
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed…” (v.22–23)
When I was deep in addiction, I felt consumed.
Consumed by shame.
Consumed by cravings.
Consumed by secrets.
But here’s what I know now:
I was not consumed.
I was still breathing.
I was still praying.
I was still wanted by God.
His mercies were new every morning.
Even the mornings I woke up disappointed in myself.
Even the mornings I said, “I’ll never change.”
Even the mornings I didn’t feel worthy to open my Bible.
His mercy didn’t run out just because I messed up again.
Addiction Makes You Feel Alone. Lamentations Reminds You You’re Not.
The chapter says:
“The Lord is good to those whose hope is in Him…” (v.25)
Notice it doesn’t say:
“The Lord is good to the perfect.”
Or:
“The Lord is good to the ones who never relapse.”
It says to those who hope in Him.
Hope isn’t perfection.
Hope is whispering:
“God, I don’t feel You, but I’m choosing to believe You’re here.”
Hope is trying again.
Hope is getting back up.
What I Know Now
Looking back, God was never absent.
He was patient.
He was waiting for my surrender, not my performance.
He wasn’t disgusted with me.
He wasn’t shocked by me.
He wasn’t done with me.
And if you’re reading this and you feel like you’re in Lamentations 3 right now — in the darkness, in the affliction, in the “He must not be hearing me” season — hear me:
Your feelings are not proof of His absence.
They are proof of your pain.
And pain is not permanent.
“Great Is Your Faithfulness.”
That line hits different when you’ve been rescued.
Great is His faithfulness —
When you weren’t faithful.
When you relapsed.
When you doubted.
When you felt abandoned.
He stayed.
He stayed through your worst.
He stayed through your shame.
He stayed through your silence.
And He will stay now.
A Prayer From the Other Side of Lamentations 3
Lord, I remember when I felt trapped in darkness and thought You had turned away from me. Thank You for staying when I couldn’t feel You. Thank You that Your mercies were new even when I was repeating old mistakes. Help me never forget that hope begins with remembering who You are. Great is Your faithfulness. Amen.
