“MY SON IS A DRUGGIE”
Duke is the pastor of a church today. It was not always so. Duke was a very strong-willed child from the day he was born. At age seventeen he was in complete rebellion. He used drugs, stole, was rude and obnoxious. His parents sought help from counselors, doctors, and the police, but none could help. He ran away from home for eleven weeks. Then he returned on his own. He continued his uncooperative, obnoxious ways. His father’s job required travel, so his mother attempted to deal with her son. They restricted him to the house, but he refused to comply, threatening to leave again.
I was speaking on family relations when an elegantly dressed lady, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world, approached me after one session and asked if I could help her. She told me this story. She had run out of ideas, not knowing what else to do.
Knowing how to respond to such a problem with so little information is very difficult. At a time like this I need to turn Godward, admit my helplessness, and appeal to Him for wisdom. Theoretically, I need information—what is she like, what is her husband like, some history about Duke. Without proper information, how could I help?
My heart was filled with sympathy and compassion for this obviously desperate, anxious lady. It seemed logical to comfort her by reassuring her that it was quite normal to be anxious. However, that’s not what I heard myself say. Instead, I told her that she had at least two problems, perhaps three.
First, she needed to relax. Two Bible verses came to mind:
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths. (Proverbs 3:5-6, NKJV)
Let the peace of God rule in your hearts, and be thankful. (Colossians 3:15, NKJV)
Her response was total unbelief. How is it possible to calm down under these conditions and be thankful? I reminded her that to say the least, she could be thankful that she got a chance to be reminded that God would direct her path. She seemed more disturbed than ever.
Second, whatever she did about her son, she needed to be sure that she and her husband were like-minded about any action.
Third, I could not advise her specifically what to do, but something, probably quite drastic, should be done quickly. I reminded her that she and her husband needed to trust the Lord and not be afraid of losing their son. They probably already had; this was the opportunity to win him back.
She left, looking more despondent than ever. A quickie conversation immediately after a meeting is hard to handle. This one surely looked like a dud. My intentions were good, but it seemed that the more I tried to help, the more agitated she became. One thing, however, I have learned—to depend upon a person’s second reaction to a conversation rather than the first.
Several years later a clean-cut young man came to the platform after a meeting and introduced himself.
“My name is Duke,” he said. “I’m in college preparing for the ministry. I came to thank you for encouraging my parents not to give up on me.”
Twenty years later, at another meeting, this same lady named Catherine and her husband Bob came up to me. I didn’t recognize her. They gave me a report on Duke. He finished college and seminary, married a fellow student, and today they are pioneering in the opening of a new church. Then we set up time for them to tell me what happened after she left the meeting twenty years ago.
She did have a second reaction. She had to admit that she had not considered it even remotely possible to relax. She was at her wit’s end over what to do; professionals were no help. But she had not thought of turning the problem over to God and to consciously team up with her husband.
She and her husband renewed their commitment to do anything to save their son from sure destruction and to depend on God to direct their paths.
Now Duke was up against two people renewed in their dedication to seek God’s best for their son.
They agreed to expect Duke to do what was right and to do whatever was necessary to enforce righteousness—whatever that means.
A few days later, Duke and his father were in the kitchen, just the two of them. On the counter was a bottle of vitamins that his mother used. Duke wanted some of the vitamins. Bob was not sure if these were prescription drugs so he told Duke to ask his mother for permission.
Duke cursed his mother, and Bob rebuked his son sharply. Duke swung at his dad; Bob knocked him to the floor. A vigorous fight followed.
The tussle moved into the dining room and then into the yard.
Duke managed to get away and took off on his bicycle. Bob took after him in his car, but couldn’t find him.
Bob returned home and went to Duke’s room where he found a sizeable quantity of marijuana. He went to the police station and swore out a warrant for his son’s arrest.
Wow! Does this sound like the Lord directing Bob’s path? This all took place on Mother’s Day.
They accepted this crisis as God’s leading. They were doing the best they knew how, on behalf of their beloved son.
When Duke came home to pack up and leave, Catherine called the police. They arrived quickly, with not one but three cars with lights flashing, attracting the attention of the whole neighborhood. Two policemen arrested Duke on assault and battery, handcuffed him, and led him to a police car. Duke’s sister and the neighbors were appalled.
The hearing was scheduled; bail was set high enough so that Duke’s friends could not get him out for two weeks. Duke had bragged that the police would never catch him, but now he was in jail on a warrant sworn out by his own parents.
At the hearing Duke was sentenced to ten days in jail and one year of probation.
While he was in jail, Duke refused to talk to his father. He would talk to his mother. She visited him and brought him reading material. While he served the ten days a doctor discovered that Duke had a serious case of hypoglycemia.
When Duke began his probation, a police sergeant instructed him to fill out a daily report of his activities, accounting for each hour, and submit it weekly. He warned Duke that if he failed to submit the report, he would personally see to it that Duke would get a five-year sentence. He showed Duke the pictures of several young men who called his bluff and who were all in prison. Duke was paroled in the custody of his parents.
Catherine nursed Duke back to health. He continued to ignore his father, but complied with the terms of his probation.
When Duke regained his health he got a job with a contractor. It was a pick-and-shovel job, mostly with a partner. This fellow was annoyingly cheerful and considerate toward Duke. Day in and day out, week in and week out, this fellow lived a consistent, cheerful life.
Every chance he got he tried to tell Duke about Jesus, who had saved him from a life of anger and misery.
One day Duke said, “Mom, guess what happened to me?” Her heart sank. What trouble is he in now? she thought. “I gave my heart to Jesus,” he said. “From now on I’m living for God.”
Duke then made a dramatic U-turn. He went to places where he had stolen things and made restitution. He changed his friends and graduated from college and seminary.
Today he is pastor of a church and I had the pleasant surprise of sharing lunch with Duke recently. I asked him to tell me his memories of that period. Here are a few of his reflections:
One day these two giant policemen walked into my room at home and arrested me. Man, they were prepared. They surrounded the house. They had a dog in case I tried to run away. Guns and everything. I sat in jail for two weeks before getting out. But I didn’t stop drugs . . . I just got smarter and more careful.
I had this job working for a construction company with a pick and shovel with this long-haired hippie that kept talking about Jesus. One day we were in the bottom of an empty swimming pool shoveling out slimy scum. Man, it was the worst job I have ever had. Smells got all over you. Yuck! One day when we took a short rest break, this fellow, with whom I was working, told me about Jesus. Now a lot of things from that part of my life are a little confusing—having taken everything from LSD to you-name-it, but something clicked inside of me. What he said seemed to make sense.
I went inside to wash my hands and face at lunchtime. When I looked up at the mirror to dry my face, I felt clean—I knew something had happened. I went out and told my working buddy that I had become a Christian. Later, I told my drug friends about Jesus. They said, “Ahhh, you’ll get over it. You’re just going through a phase.” Well, they may be right, but it’s been over twenty years and I haven’t gotten over it yet.
You know, Dr. Brandt, there’s another thing. I never quit doing drugs; I just didn’t want them any more.
Don’t take too lightly the help that is available to a listener with an open heart. God had prepared a solution for that mother. Our brief encounter after a meeting had to be just a tiny part. My little advice motivated her to bring God in on the solution. It didn’t seem very hopeful as she walked away from our little chat, but God’s ways are not our ways.