I long believed the battle took place in my head, in my thoughts. That my spirit was the problem – too weak, too indecisive, too susceptible to temptation. But that was one of the greatest deceptions of my life.
The truth, which I painfully learned after forty years of addiction, is far simpler and yet more shattering: the real disturbance lies in our flesh, in our body. Our spirit and our emotions are so heavily bound to this perishable dwelling. We imagine ourselves to be masters of our own lives, yet we are constantly pulled by the needs of our body, like a puppet on strings.
This control isn't just about what we commonly understand as "fleshly desires" in the sexual sense. It's much broader. Anything that appeals to our reward system – be it the comfy sofa, the sweet drink, the distraction of a screen – exerts a silent power over us. The body cries out for quick gratification, the easy way. And we usually obey without even realising it.
Tracing the Quiet Seduction
This makes us victims of our own biology. We do what feels good, without considering the long-term costs. And we avoid what is challenging, yet would help us grow. A difficult conversation is postponed; necessary work remains undone. Instead, there's another episode of the favourite series. A small, insignificant decision, it seems.
Yet these small decisions add up. They carve deep grooves in our behaviour. With every indulgence, the path of pleasure becomes more familiar, while the path of resistance grows steeper and more alien. The older one gets, the more solidified this pattern becomes. You become a spectator in your own life, guided by the impulses of a body that knows only the present.
I know what I'm talking about. I lived like that for forty years. My entire existence was shaped by giving in to this inner urge. It was a life of full-blown addiction, even if it didn't always appear that way from the outside. A life that drifted from moment to moment, always chasing the next small high, the next numbing sensation.
My Reflection: A Puppet
Eventually, there comes a point when you look in the mirror and no longer recognise yourself. You see a person whose strings are being pulled from outside. By lust, by the fear of pain, by habit. You want to do the right thing; you know deep down what ought to be done – and yet your hand instinctively reaches for what harms you.
For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. They are in conflict with each other, so that you are not to do whatever you want. Galatians 5:17 (NIV)
For me, these words from the Bible were not a theological formula, but a description of my everyday life. An internal war that I repeatedly lost. The desire for freedom was there, but the strength was lacking. The chains were too strong. I was trapped in my own flesh.
And Then Came the Moment
True freedom isn't found by trying harder. Not through willpower, not through better self-control techniques. That would just be another attempt to defeat the flesh with the means of the flesh. A hopeless endeavour.
The turning point for me came when I stopped fighting and started clinging to the Only One who had already won this battle. In prayer, in quiet connection with Jesus, I found a stability that did not come from within myself. It was a power from outside that seeped into my inner being.
Jesus doesn't simply cut the strings and let us fall. He takes them into His own hands. He sets us free by offering us a new dependency: dependence on Him. And this dependence leads to an unexpected freedom. The old desires lose their power, not because they disappear, but because a new, greater longing awakens within us: the longing for Him.
The Word Became Flesh
It is undeserved grace to be able to live a free life. After decades of bondage, every day I am no longer a slave to my impulses is a pure gift. It is possible to become free. Completely.
Ultimately, for me, there is a profound truth that turns everything on its head. In the very beginning was the Word. And the Word became flesh. Not the other way around. God did not start with humanity and try to make them spiritual somehow.
No, the origin lies in the Spirit, in the Word, in Jesus Himself. He came into our broken, fleshly world to heal it from within. Our hope is not escape from the body, but the redemption of the body through the Spirit of Him who became flesh for us. He alone truly sets us free.