From 1986 to 1995, I worked at a gold mine in central California.

In the beginning it was a good job—interesting, challenging, even fascinating at times. We learned on the job, worked hard, and there was something deeply satisfying about the process of taking raw ore and seeing it refined. It felt purposeful.

But alongside that steady work, another world quietly ran in parallel.

An Unexpected Influence

Around 1989, a man named Brad joined our team. He seemed serious, fairly reserved, but easy enough to get along with.

As I got to know him, I discovered something else—he had connections. Strong ones. He bought and sold drugs, and had access to almost anything: cannabis, cocaine, meth, LSD… even heroin.

He didn’t use them himself. He drank beer. He made money.

At the time, it didn’t feel like stepping into danger.
It felt… accessible. Convenient.

Looking back, I can see more clearly what I could not fully see then:

He was a dangerous person for a drug user to know.

A Moment That Should Have Changed Everything

One day, I went to his house in Keyes. I had done this before—nothing new, nothing unusual.

I walked in through the back, and we sat down in the front room. There was a small slice of polished jade in front of me, a razor blade, a straw, and a pile of white powder.

Then—someone knocked at the door.

“Come in,” he shouted.

The door opened, and a man walked in. I didn’t know him. I didn’t know what was happening. Everything in me tightened. I felt exposed… vulnerable… unsafe.

“Are you crazy?!” I blurted out.

In an instant, Brad pulled out a pistol, pointed it toward me, and fixed me with a cold, steady look.

“Be quiet. I’ve got it under control.”

At that moment, whatever illusion I had been living under began to crack.

This wasn’t casual.
This wasn’t safe.
This wasn’t controlled.

I couldn’t wait to leave.

The other man took what he came for and left without a word. No introductions. No explanations. Brad turned to me and simply said I should go too.

No apology.

I gathered my things, left quickly, and as I drove away, I saw him standing at the door, watching me… drinking a beer.

The Fear That Lingers

On the drive home, I took a long, winding route—checking, doubling back, making sure I wasn’t being followed.

By the time I reached Sonora, I avoided my usual places. I sat somewhere unfamiliar, trying to settle myself, still shaky.

Something in me knew:

This path leads somewhere dangerous.

And Yet…

Despite all of that…
Despite the fear, the tension, the unmistakable warning…

I went back.

“Regardless of the experience, I still met with him on many occasions…”

 

Why Do We Go Back?

This is the quiet reality of addictive patterns.

They do not always look dramatic.
They do not always feel out of control.

Often, they sit quietly alongside an otherwise normal life.

Addiction doesn’t need chaos to begin—it only needs permission to continue.

Even when we see the danger…
Even when something inside us says this is not right…
We can still return.

Scripture speaks directly into this tension:

“For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.” (Romans 7:19)

There is a deeper struggle at work—one that goes beyond behaviour, into the heart.

The Illusion of Control

What made it easier to keep going back was the sense that things were still under control.

Brad seemed in control.
The situation seemed manageable.
Nothing had gone “too far.”

But that moment with the gun told the truth.

Addiction creates an illusion:

• You’re managing it
• You’re choosing this
• You can stop anytime

But slowly, subtly, the ground shifts beneath your feet.

What feels controlled… begins to control you.

The Pull of Familiar Paths

Even after fear, there is a pull back.

Back to the same place.
Back to the same person.
Back to the same pattern.

Why?

Because these patterns become familiar. And familiarity can feel like comfort—even when it is harmful.

Addiction is rarely just about the substance.
It is about the rhythm of returning.

A Better Invitation

But there is another path.

Where addiction leads us into secrecy, Christ calls us into light.
Where addiction stirs fear, He offers peace.
Where addiction binds, He frees.

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” (John 8:36)

This freedom is not instant perfection.
It is a new direction.

A turning away… and a turning toward.

Again and again.

Ponder

• Where do I find myself returning, even when I know it is not good for me?
• What moments has God used to gently warn me?
• Have I ignored those warnings?

Action

• Identify one pattern or place that keeps drawing you back
• Share honestly with someone you trust
• Take one small but intentional step to change direction

Prayer

Lord,
You see the paths I return to—the ones that feel familiar, even when they are not good for me.

Thank You for the moments when You have opened my eyes, even if I did not respond straight away.

Would You give me courage now to walk a different path?
Help me not to ignore Your gentle warnings.
Lead me into freedom, step by step.

Amen.

Challenge

The next time you feel the pull to go back—pause.

Remember where that road leads.

And choose, by God’s grace, to take a different step.