Being a bystander in the slavery of the soul

A dear friend of mine, one with whom my heart draws unto often, has recently fallen back into old traps. Bad habits and old ways seem to evade this man's territory and win the battle over future goals and ambitions. Everyone around him seek to support and uplift during such times, when his world seems to crumble under unstable footing for all to see except him. How is it, that walls can come crashing down in the house of one's life, walls that took such hard work and vision to build, and the builder not seem to notice their destruction?

All of a sudden, nothing else matters. Just getting his dirty secret, which no longer needs to be kept a secret. "After all, if people don't accept this about me, they must be rejecting all of me? If that's the case, did they ever really love me in the first place? Why should I even care what these people think? I much prefer the company of those who accept me for who I am."  he thinks to himself.

The hardest emotions to muster through such experiences come surprisingly from the emotions of another. His girlfriend asks me to watch out for him in genuine concern for his well being. "It makes me really sad that he has all these amazing goals in life and has the potential to reach them but then he chooses to smoke and all of a sudden none of that is important to him anymore. I think that's what hurts me the most outta all this," she says to me. What am I to think? What am I to feel? 

So the predictable patterns goes: a few months of idleness and depreciation go by, close ties are re-established in the need for help, support and motivation come with flowers and love, new goals are set, a few weeks or months go by, and the war begins to rage from within again. Unfortunately, this is a battle he can't win. When all of his soldiers come to the front lines, they are smitten and brought low and depression and hopelessness takes over. Freshly rebuilt walls built on a sandy foundation can't stand the blows of this enemy. The walls crumble, the pictures on the wall fall to the  floor, the mirrors on the wall and glass windows shatter. He is left homeless and friendless; but he's got his fix, so for the moment, he's happy.

The greatest fear for those that love such a man is that one day rock bottom will be to much to bear. Without the hands of Christ to bear him up, can such a man fight the seeds of depression which roots run too deep to pull out? They have encircled the heart, squeezing out all hope of anything better. What now? A blackened heart of heartbreak and shame. The only escape: a rope in a bathroom. Please, not again. 

How can you help such a man? Who is breaking apart into a million pieces from the explosions of the bombs he himself has set around himself with such precision and care, to which he lights the fuse with a grin on face? What is it that could possibly break this rhythm? Who is the angel that will enter this man's life that will show him the light? It's often a 3rd party member which would be least expected. I guess I continue to stand as a light, not a judge, continuing to pray with vision that God knows this good man more than I do, loves him more than I do. Watching those you love fade into the mists of darkness far from the path of safety toward the tree of light may be the hardest part of such a path.