November 19
Chained by
Choice
"Some of you say, ‘I have the right to do anything.’ But not everything is helpful. Again some of you say, ‘I have the right to do anything.’ But I will not be controlled by anything."
1 Corinthians 6:12 (NIrV)
Selena sat alone in her dimly lit apartment, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. The only sound was the faint hum of the city outside, but inside, it was silent—too silent. She hated silence. It left room for thoughts she didn't want to face.
She reached for the orange bottle in her desk drawer, her fingers shaking.
The pills had been her salvation once, numbing the pain of her back injury, helping her sleep, keeping her going when the pressure at work became unbearable. She was an architect, after all—her job demanded precision, creativity, perfection. And the pills had delivered. At first.
But now, they were her prison.
She no longer took them because she needed them; she took them because she had to. The fear of going without sent waves of anxiety crashing over her. She had tried before—tried to cut back, to stop. But the withdrawals were brutal. The nausea, the shaking, the unbearable cravings. She had failed every time.
Selena exhaled, twisting the cap open. The pills rattled inside, whispering promises of relief. Just one more. Just to get through the night.
A verse flickered through her mind, one she had long buried: “I will not be controlled by anything.”
Her breath caught. She clenched her jaw, squeezing her eyes shut as hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
But I am controlled, she realized.
She looked at the bottle in her hand, suddenly filled with rage—at the pills, at herself, at the lies she had believed. With a strangled cry, she threw the bottle across the room. It hit the wall and exploded, sending pills scattering across the floor. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing, her body convulsing with years of pent-up shame.
"God, help me!" she choked out. "I can't do this. I can't. But I don't want to live like this anymore!"
For the first time in a long time, she truly meant it.
Morning found her curled up on the floor, her eyes swollen, her heart raw. But something had shifted. She wasn’t free yet—far from it. The battle ahead terrified her. But she knew now she wasn’t fighting alone.
With trembling hands, she reached for her phone and called her sister.
"Amy... I need help."
And for the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope.
Prayer:
Dear Lord,
I come before You, broken and desperate for change.
Like Selena, I have let things take control of my life, even when I knew they were destroying me.
I am weak, Lord, but You are strong.
Help me to surrender this battle to You.
Give me the courage to seek help, to take the next step, and to trust that You will walk with me through the darkness.
I know freedom won’t come easily, but I believe You will carry me through.
Thank You for Your endless grace and love.
In Jesus' name, Amen.
