Dear Kevin
During Philly outreach I talked with Kevin, a heroin addict. Streaks of red painted the sides of his pupils and his throat, where he injected, pulsated to the beat of the djembe playing in the background. I felt brokenness but I also felt glad that I didn’t sin like Kevin. I felt a sense of security and even comfort. I secretly said to myself, “Thank you God that I do not sin like this man.” It was so sad to see how blinded I was to my own ignorance, feigned brokenness, and lack of true compassion.
God has painfully revealed to me recently that I am a Kevin and that sin is sin. Sure there are no needles or sensual encounters with prostitutes. But I am an addict to sin. My needle may not be visible to human eyes, but I do seek the next high while neglecting my Father who cries and tears his royal robes in anguish. I do seek the next high not knowing the consequences of what it does to my body, the body which He owns and which His spirit dwells in. I do seek the next high which leaves me delusional and onto a path away from the Father. The wise and common saying the “church is a hospital for the broken not a museum for sinners” leaves a personal touch on me for the first time. I am proud to be a patient. Kevin, brother, check yourself in, my Doctor is real good.