The Question That Changed My Life

Blessed are Those Who Suffer...

Jul 07, 2025

I rarely see what God is up to in the moment, but that doesn't stop me from trying to figure it out all the time. The best way I can see God at work is looking back. It's in the events of my life and how they unfold that God's presence becomes ever so clear.

A simple question from my sponsor opened my eyes to a calling I never saw coming—one that would lead me to becoming an addiction crusader in the long run. I could never have come up with this plan. I just fell into it.

I was three years into recovery when that life-changing question came. My sponsor asked me something that would reshape everything I thought I knew about myself, God, and what my life was supposed to be about.

We were walking the trail from Holden Village to Hart Lake. Holden Village is an isolated community in the North Cascades National Forest that occupies an old abandoned copper mine town purchased for a dollar by the Lutherans, who now operate it as an amazing adult retreat center.

We were doing our weekly check-in, my sponsor and I, talking about how we were doing. As usual, I was complaining about how hard recovery was, how unfair my circumstances were, how God didn't seem to be answering my prayers the way I wanted. Classic early recovery stuff: all the self-pity with none of the self-awareness.

My sponsor Richard, a Lutheran minister, listened patiently as he always did. Then he planted a seed that would germinate and change me and my future in the coming days. He looked at me and said: "Ed, what if your addiction isn't your problem—what if it's your qualification?"

I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"What if everything you've been through—the pain, the shame, the years of living in denial, wrecking your life—what if none of that was wasted? What if it was all preparing you for something you can't see yet?"

The Power of Reframing

That question shattered something inside me. Not in a destructive way, but like breaking open a cocoon. For months, I'd been viewing my addiction as this terrible thing that had stolen years from my life, destroyed relationships, and left me starting over at square one.

But what if it wasn't a detour from my purpose—what if it was the pathway to it?

My sponsor went on: "The very thing you're most ashamed of might be the very thing that qualifies you to help others. Your addiction journey might be exactly what someone else needs to hear about their own life."

This wasn't some cheap "everything happens for a reason" theology. This was something much deeper: the radical possibility that our wounds, when honestly faced and properly healed, become our gifts to the world.

From Victim to Healer

I'd spent so much energy lamenting where I'd been that I'd never considered where it might lead me. I was so focused on escaping my past that I couldn't see how it might inform my future.

That seed of an idea took years to fully grow. It would be another two years before I'd enter seminary, another few years before I'd start working specifically with people struggling with addiction. But the foundation was laid in that one conversation: the understanding that our deepest pain often points toward our highest calling.

Not because God causes our suffering, but because God refuses to waste it.

The Disease as Teacher

Here's what I've learned in the years since: this disease wasn't just something that wrecked my life—it was also something to be learned from. The very skills you developed to survive your dysfunction often become superpowers in recovery.

The hypervigilance that once kept you scanning for danger now helps you read a room and sense when someone is struggling. The pattern recognition that helped you navigate chaos now spots denial from a mile away. The emotional radar that kept you safe in dysfunction now attunes you to others' hidden pain.

The person who learned to navigate an alcoholic parent's mood swings often becomes incredibly skilled at helping others process difficult emotions. The one who survived childhood trauma develops resilience that can inspire others facing their own dark nights. The addict who finally gets sober often makes the best sponsor because they know exactly how cunning and baffling denial can be.

My disease has been teaching me things I didn't even know I was learning.

The Qualification Question

So let me ask you the same question my sponsor asked me: What if your biggest struggle isn't your disqualification—what if it's your qualification?

What if that depression you've battled has given you a depth of empathy others desperately need? What if that difficult marriage has taught you things about forgiveness that could help other couples? What if that family dysfunction has shown you patterns that others can't see but desperately need to understand?

What if the very thing you're most tempted to hide is exactly what someone else needs to see to know they're not alone?

This doesn't mean we should be grateful for our trauma or pretend our pain was "worth it." Some things are just broken and wrong and should never have happened. But it does mean we can choose to do something good with what we've been given—even when what we've been given is unwanted and unfair.

Finding Your Calling in Your Wound

I'm not suggesting everyone needs to become a professional counselor or pastor. But I am suggesting that your experience with your particular struggle has prepared you to help others deal with theirs in ways that people who haven't lived it simply can't.

Maybe it's being the friend who notices when someone's drinking has crossed a line and says something. Maybe it's creating a safe space in your family for honest conversations. Maybe it's speaking up in your church or community when everyone else is content to pretend the problem doesn't exist.

Your qualification isn't your perfection—it's your experience with imperfection and what you've learned from it.

The Transformation

The question that changed my life wasn't really about my addiction. It was about purpose. It was about the possibility that our worst chapters might contain the seeds of our most meaningful chapters.

What struggle have you been walking around that might actually be preparing you to help others see theirs more clearly? What wound in your life might be waiting to become your gift to the world?

The transformation from victim to healer doesn't happen overnight. But it starts with a single question: What if this isn't disqualifying me—what if it's preparing me?

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.

—2 Corinthians 1:3-4