Let the Excuses Begin

He said to them, “You give them something to eat.” They said, “We have no more than five loaves and two fish—unless we are to go and buy food for all these people.” Luke 9:13

In my addiction, I had a lot of excuses. I knew what was right, but I wanted what was wrong, so I had to manufacture reasons to feel better about what I was doing. When it came to using, I told myself, I work hard. I deserve this. I need to sleep. Then, as I realized I had a problem, I had excuses for not getting help. I can’t go to treatment. I have a job. My family needs me.

This is generally what we do when we want to pursue destructive behavior. We rationalize our actions, making the wrong choice seem like the right one. In today’s passage, the disciples too succumbed to their human nature, making excuses and arguing with Jesus. In the story, a crowd of 5,000 followed Jesus, but as the hour grew late, the disciples asked him to send the crowd away for supper. But he said to them, “You give them something to eat.”

The disciples could hardly be blamed for their response. They didn’t have enough food for 5,000 people. We have no more than five loaves and two fish. You must be joking Jesus. We can’t possibly do what you’re asking (my paraphrase). The disciples didn’t get to see the miracle until they obeyed. Once they did though, they witnessed Christ doing the impossible, using their five loaves and two fish to feed 5,000.

This is often where we find ourselves. You must be mistaken God. I can’t go to treatment. That’s not possible. We know what’s right, but what’s right is hard, so the excuses start to flow.

I’d like to say that in recovery I no longer make excuses, but God still asks things of me that I resist. I like my comfortable life, so when he asks me to reach out to another, my first impulse is usually to make an excuse. I’m busy God. I need my down time. I don’t think that person has any interest in faith or recovery. I’m learning though, that it’s not my job to worry about the outcome. My job is to simply obey. In my excuses, I act like my old addictive self. In my obedience, I act like a disciple.