Unshackled

Breaking Addiction’s Chains through God’s Grace

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On July 23, 2025, I will celebrate twenty years sober, having struggled with alcohol addiction for over a decade before I was finally free in July 2005. I’m writing a book on my experience in the hope it’ll encourage others, called Unshackled: Breaking Addiction’s Chains through God’s Grace (it’ll be released in 2026).

Here’s a preview of that book . . .

My Journey to Freedom from Alcohol and Addiction

Struggling in Secret

When I began drinking in my twenties, I never expected to become addicted to alcohol. In my early years of pastoral ministry, I was passionate, driven, and wanted to serve God and others. But along the way, the pressures of leadership, the emotional toll of caring for others, and my internal battles with anxiety and depression began to wear me down. I felt isolated in my struggles.

Rather than admit my pain or seek help, I turned to alcohol as my escape. Night after night, after long days of ministry, I would pour myself drinks to numb the stress and sadness I felt inside.

On the outside, I was a successful pastor and theologian (pastoring churches and lecturing at colleges), but on the inside, I was falling apart. I struggled privately with alcoholism and depression even while working as a church pastor. I was terrified that anyone in the church would find out.

This shame drove me to hide my drinking and despair, keeping them locked up and hidden away, afraid that people might find out. Only my wife, family, closest friends, and doctor knew the truth. I felt like a fraud, preaching freedom, hope, and joy to others on Sundays, only to drown my sorrows in secret.

The stigma and guilt were paralyzing. I told myself that a pastor was supposed to have it all together, that admitting my weakness would ruin my ministry. So I suffered alone, and my addiction worsened over time.

Looking back now, I realize there were early warning signs. I was using alcohol to self-medicate my depression and anxiety. I would drink until I felt numb, and momentarily, it seemed to ease the relentless ache of sadness. But the relief was short-lived: the depression only worsened, and I needed more alcohol to keep it at bay.

My situation hit its lowest point when I realized I could not get through a day without alcohol. I remember coming home one evening, closing the door to my study with a bottle in hand, and thinking, “This has to stop.” After a decade of daily heavy drinking, my life was falling apart. I felt God’s heartbreak and my own.

My family life was suffering. Even if I tried to hide it, my wife could see the distance in my eyes, smell the alcohol on my breath, and witness my body falling apart. My young children sensed something was wrong. I wasn’t fully present for them. The thought of losing my family’s trust or hurting them because of my drinking frightened me. They deserved better from me, and deep down, I knew it.

Turning Point: Reaching Out for Help

My turning point came in 2005. After years of this downward spiral, I finally reached a breaking point: a moment of clarity and divine intervention. In July 2005, as I reflected on the imminent birth of another daughter, and reflected on whether I wanted to be alive to see her grow up, I decided to stop drinking alcohol altogether.

I vividly remember the day I poured the remaining liquor down the drain and fell to my knees, weeping. I cried out to God for help because I knew I couldn’t break free on my own. I’d tried going to an addiction rehabilitation centre for help, but hadn’t gotten better. I knew I needed God’s help to get free, otherwise I’d die from my alcoholism. There was no dramatic vision or instant miracle; instead, there was a resolute conviction in my spirit that I had to choose life or death. I chose life.

I admitted to myself and God that I was powerless over this addiction and that I needed divine strength. That day, I told my wife what I had done (that I had quit drinking) and I confessed how bad things had truly become. It was an uncomfortable and humbling conversation, but it was also the first step toward honesty and healing.

That same week, I visited my doctor and sought professional help for my depression and withdrawal symptoms. I began seeing a psychiatrist and a Christian counsellor, who helped me unpack the underlying issues: the various sources of my depression, anxiety, and addiction, like unresolved grief and chronic stress.

With their help, I started to develop healthier coping strategies. It was an arduous journey; those early days of sobriety were filled with intense cravings, mood swings, and the temptation to go back to the bottle. But by God’s grace and with support, I stayed the course one day at a time.

I also confided in a few close friends and mentors, both inside and outside my church, who could hold me accountable and encourage me without judgment.

Quitting alcohol was a huge victory, but it didn’t solve everything overnight. I was sober, yes, but I was still wrestling with depression and anxiety. For years after 2005, I maintained my sobriety yet continued to keep my depression hidden like a dark and shameful secret.

I was dry, but not truly free in an emotional and spiritual sense. I still felt that stigma, shame, and fear about my mental health struggles. It took another turning point, over a decade later, for me to experience a deeper freedom.

That moment came in a seminary classroom of all places. I remember the day clearly. I was a theology professor at the time, teaching a class on being open and vulnerable in pastoral ministry. In the middle of the lecture, I felt a gentle but firm nudge in my heart: “But you’re not open and honest about your struggles. How is keeping this secret helping you or my church?”

It was the Holy Spirit speaking to me. I stopped mid-sentence, took a deep breath, and began to share with my students what I had never shared publicly before: my story of battling depression and alcohol abuse.

I told them about my years of silent suffering and the journey I had begun toward recovery. I was trembling, afraid of what they might think, but I couldn’t preach vulnerability and continue to wear a mask.

To my amazement, I was met not with judgment but with love, understanding, and support. After class, several students came up to me, hugged me, and even confided their struggles with depression and addiction, which they’d never dared to share.

That day, something broke loose in me. The shame lost its power. By stepping into the light, I experienced an overwhelming sense of relief and a profound sense of God’s grace. I began to see that being honest about my pain could help others start “the journey toward healing and recovery,” just as it was helping me heal more deeply.

Faith, Family, and the Journey to Wholeness

Through these turning points, I learned that recovery isn’t a solo journey (nor merely a physical one) but a holistic path involving God and community.

My faith in Jesus Christ became the bedrock of my recovery, especially as I confronted the underlying depression. I came to believe in a new way that God’s love for me wasn’t dependent on my life being perfectly together. In fact, amid my brokenness, I encountered Christ’s grace more profoundly than ever.

Scripture’s promises of forgiveness and new creation took on a very personal meaning. I clung to verses about God being near to the brokenhearted. In prayer, I often felt God assuring me, “I’m here. We will walk out of this valley together.”

Indeed, I could allow those seasons of difficulty to drive me toward my ultimate source of recovery, comfort, healing, hope, and strength: Jesus Christ. I also realized that God works through healthcare professionals in the recovery process. My therapists, doctors, and support group were gifts from God, guiding me toward wholeness. Recovery required both prayer and therapy, as well as faith and medicine. There was no shame in utilizing all the tools God was providing.

My family played a crucial role as well. My wife showed incredible patience and support, especially once I opened up about my struggles. She prayed for me and encouraged me daily to stay sober. Addiction professionals told her to give up on me, because I’d never stop drinking, given my addiction history. But she refused to give up and stood by me through my recovery, often at significant cost to herself. Her courage, patience, and character are astonishing, and I’ll be forever grateful to her.

My children, in their way, gave me hope for the future: I wanted to become the healthy father they deserved. I also can’t overstate the importance of the wider church community in my healing. When I finally shared my story with a few trusted colleagues and later with my church, I discovered an outpouring of compassion.

The ministry team of my local church stood by me and my family, caring for us during my greatest struggles. They didn’t cast me aside; instead, they walked with me, checking in on my wellbeing and covering my responsibilities when I needed rest. Their love and support made a huge difference to my recovery.

This showed me what the church can be at its best: a safe, healing, forgiving, loving, embracing, and vulnerable community that helps people find hope and freedom. If any one of them had shamed me or rejected me, I might have retreated into silence.

But their grace gave me the courage to continue in honesty. It also taught me that I wasn’t alone; there were others in the pews struggling with similar issues, quietly longing for someone to say, “Me too. Let’s get through this together.”

Another significant part of my faith journey was learning to accept myself as a person in recovery, not a failure. I had to internalize that my identity is in Christ, not in my past addiction. Yes, I am someone who dealt with alcoholism and depression, but I am also a beloved child of God.

Over time, I found purpose in my pain. I sensed God calling me to use my story to encourage others. I discovered the power of opening up and telling my story: it brings healing for me and offers hope to others who are still struggling. This realization transformed my perspective on my past. Rather than seeing it as a shameful secret, I began to see it as a testimony of God’s grace and deliverance.

Staying Free: Daily Practices of a New Life

Recovery isn’t a one-time event: it’s a continual process, a daily choice to live in the light. By God’s grace, I have remained alcohol-free since 2005. On 23 July 2025, I celebrated twenty years sober! That’s only possible by the grace of God and the love of family and friends. To maintain my freedom, I had to replace old, destructive habits with new, life-giving ones.

I became very intentional about developing my emotional, relational, and spiritual resources so that I could flourish without needing to numb myself. In practical terms, that means I built a sustainable rhythm of healthy practices and boundaries that guard my wellbeing. Some of the key practices that help keep me free from alcohol and addiction include:

Daily spiritual disciplines: I foster a vital relationship with God through devotional reading and prayer. Every morning, I spend time reading Scripture or uplifting books and meditating on God’s promises. Prayer has become my lifeline: I honestly tell God how I’m feeling, and I draw strength and comfort from divine presence. My daily practice involves engaging in Lectio Divina prayers in the morning and Examen prayers in the evening. These habits center me and give me hope each day.

Mentoring and accountability: I meet regularly with a spiritual director, a Christian mentor, a professional supervisor, a Christian counselor, and a small group of trusted friends. That’s a lot of relationships, but I’ve found these essential to my emotional, psychological, and spiritual wellbeing, and my freedom from addiction. In those meetings, I remain open and vulnerable about my struggles: nothing is kept in the dark. They ask me the hard questions about how I’m doing. This accountability and encouragement are crucial. As I often say now, I’m no longer afraid to talk about my experiences and struggles. Keeping that honesty prevents secrets or new addictions from taking root.

Exercise and recreation: I learned that caring for my body is a key part of caring for my soul. I go on daily walks with my Golden Retriever, and I picked up swimming at the beach: physical activity relieves stress and improves my mood tremendously. I also make time for recreation and hobbies I enjoy, like reading novels, building Lego sets, and spending time in nature. These bring balance and joy to my life, where I once lived solely to work (and then drink).

Therapy and self-care: I continue to see a therapist periodically (a Christian psychologist), especially during challenging seasons, to help me process any new issues that arise. I practice self-care by getting adequate rest (avoiding late nights of work and drinking), maintaining a healthy diet, and recognizing my emotional triggers. If I notice signs of depression or anxiety returning, I reach out for help immediately: I now know where to go to get help when I need it.

Helping others: Perhaps one of the most fulfilling practices is helping others who struggle with addiction or mental health issues. I openly share my testimony in churches, classes, men’s and women’s groups, addiction gatherings, podcasts, and conversations, not to boast, but to break the stigma and let people know they’re not alone. In doing so, I have found that sharing my recovery story is not only healing for me but also for others. It reminds me how far I’ve come and reinforces my commitment to never return to that darkness. It’s incredible to see how God can redeem my past by using it to guide someone else toward freedom.

Each of these practices is part of a holistic lifestyle of recovery. There’s no point at which I can say, “I’m cured, I can let my guard down now.” I remain vigilant, but not fearful. I know I’m not fighting alone. I rely daily on God’s grace to sustain me. Whenever I face stress or sadness now, I have healthier outlets and a supportive network to lean on. And I continue to dwell in God’s promises, which give me hope and purpose.

A New Chapter of Freedom and Purpose

Today, I am living in freedom. It’s the freedom of being unashamed and unafraid to be honest about who I am: a man who has struggled, who has fallen, but who has also been redeemed and renewed.

It’s the freedom of no longer needing a substance to get through the day, and the freedom of experiencing joy and peace in sobriety. My depression, while still present at times, no longer defines me; it’s something I manage with God’s help, not a dark secret that controls me.

Writing this account as if it were a chapter in my memoir, I feel immense gratitude. I’m grateful to God, who never gave up on me and gently led me back into the light. I’m thankful to my family and friends, who “stood by me” in love even at my worst. I’m grateful for the church communities that embraced me and allowed me to heal rather than condemning me.

And I’m grateful for the second chance at life that recovery has given me: the chance to see my daughters grow up, to continue serving in ministry, and to walk alongside others in their pain.

If there’s one message I hope my story conveys, it’s this: You don’t need to feel condemned or ashamed when you struggle. There is hope and help available. For me, that hope was ultimately found in Jesus and in the loving community he surrounded me with.

No matter how dark or hopeless things seem, freedom is possible. I found it by taking the courageous steps of honesty, reaching out for help, and trusting God one day at a time. My journey to freedom from alcohol and addiction has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but also the most rewarding.

In place of despair, I have hope. In place of secrecy, I have authenticity. And in place of addiction, I have purpose. Sharing this story is part of that purpose: a testament to the reality and worth of recovery. I am living proof that a person can struggle mightily and yet, with support and faith, emerge into a life of wholeness and freedom. All thanks be to God for this journey of grace.

Note: This post is a preview of my new book, which comes out in 2026: “Unshackled: Breaking Addiction’s Chains through God’s Grace.”