What makes a saint?

One of my best friends is a monster. He’s also a saint.

He’s an alcoholic and sex addict whose sins did irreparable damage to his family, friends, and himself.

He and I would both like to say he is beyond all that now.

We can’t.

And we never will.

What we know about the human brain–or what the ancient Christian apostle Paul calls the “sinful nature”–is that it is like a river. Our actions and thoughts form habits, which are like channels for water (behaviors, thoughts, etc.) to follow. Those channels cut in deep, like a river that carves a canyon over many thousands of years. Once the canyon is there, it will never go away.

The best you can hope to do is keep your life from flowing down that channel anymore.

And anyone who knows anything about controlling how water flows knows how damn near impossible it is to do that.

On my friend’s mind–literally in his brain–there is a deep canyon with steep sides. He will live on the edge of that canyon for the rest of his life.

I mentioned that my friend is also a saint. If you knew him like I know him, you would agree with me. If you chat with him in the church lobby or spend an hour with him over lunch, you’ll find him to be generous, honest, and wise. Sociopaths can come across that way when they learn to act the part. My friend will tell you that addicts have sociopathic tendencies. They can act a part to get what they want (and to keep away those who would stand in their way).

I’ve known my friend for almost 21 years. While his “inner addict”–the one that can act a part to avoid accountability and to get to his drug of choice–is well-evolved, I am certain he is not a sociopath.

Yes, he is a saint. And he is a sinner of the first order.

How is he really any different from the rest of us?

You may be thinking: “Well, I’m not like that. I don’t drink. I don’t sleep around.” Fine. Maybe you really are exceptional.

So, let’s consider that old apostle Paul again. He wrote most of the New Testament. When people think of the founding of Christianity, they think of three people first: Jesus Christ, Peter, and Paul. If there ever was a “super-Christian,” Paul is it. If Washington, D.C., is Christianity, Paul is the Lincoln Memorial.

And this is what he said about himself: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the worst” (1 Timothy 1.15).

And it was Paul who wrote these words:

“I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree that the law is good. But, in fact, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I that do it, but sin that dwells in me. So I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (Romans 7.15-24).

My friend could say these words himself and they would be true.

So, it seems, even a super-Christian who wrote most of the New Testament admits that he is no better than my friend, the addict.

The saint is really a sinner.

But the sinner may also be a saint.

Paul answers his own question: “Who will rescue me from this body of death?”

Perhaps it is because my friend asks and answers that question just as the apostle asks and answers it that makes them both saints:

“Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7.25).

The absence of sin (and a sinful nature) is not what makes a saint; what makes a saint is the recognition of, and submission to, the source of life and redemption of life.

When you recognize that life comes as a gift from God and that the redemption of life is also a gift from God, there is only one thing you can do: Give thanks. Simply be the happy recipient of the gift and re-gift of life.

My friend has taught me that thanksgiving is perhaps the most crucial, most fundamental habit of people in recovery. An alcoholic cannot make himself not an alcoholic. He will always be an alcoholic. But an alcoholic can recognize what an inexpressible gift it is to be given the gift of life–not just once, but every time the second hand makes a circle. An alcoholic can recognize what an inexpressible gift it is to be given another chance at life every minute of every day. And that alcoholic can give thanks.

An alcoholic can give thanks “without ceasing” (the apostle Paul again in 1 Thessalonians 5.18). Giving thanks is what makes saints.

And so anybody can be a saint, even the worst of sinners.

Grace and peace.