Six Months Without Smoking… Then I Blew It

I still remember the last pull I ever took off a cigarette.

It was 2005. I had been in Teen Challenge for a while, and it was one of those days that felt cursed from the start. We were out doing door-to-door fundraising in the suburbs of Long Island. House after house. Rejection after rejection. Nothing landed. Nothing worked.

To make it worse, my fundraising partner was angry at the world. Every step felt heavy. Every knock felt pointless. By mid-afternoon, the whole day felt like it had conspired to break me.

Somewhere between doors, we started talking about how good a cigarette would feel.

Six months without smoking. Six months clean. And suddenly, the stress felt like justification enough to break the streak.

A few houses later, my partner ran up behind me holding a lit cigarette. He’d found one.

I didn’t hesitate.

I took two pulls, dropped it on the ground, and froze.

It wasn’t the nicotine rush that got me. That lightheaded feeling passed quickly. What hit me next was something deeper — something heavier.

I knew immediately what I had done.

I didn’t knock on another door that day. I just walked. No destination. Just replaying the moment over and over, already bracing for the consequences of my own choice.

That night, we all went out to dinner. I sat in the corner of the restaurant and didn’t say a word.

Now, I need to pause here — because I know what some people think when they hear this story.

It’s just a cigarette.It’s not meth.God isn’t angry over one slip.

All of that is true.

But the rest of the story matters.

Where It Really Started

My addiction didn’t start with methamphetamine.

It started when I was thirteen years old.

I used to go door-to-door in a college neighborhood, bum cigarettes from college students, then sneak off into the woods to smoke. Afterward, I’d drown myself in cheap cologne before going home, hoping my parents wouldn’t notice.

At first, it was just something fun. Then it became routine.

I didn’t catch addiction like a disease. I learned it.

I learned that sin is pleasurable for a season. There was a rush in knocking on doors. A rush in hiding. A rush in getting away with it. And then — guilt.

Conviction.

At first, that guilt was loud. Over time, it faded. Eventually, it went quiet enough that I could ignore it completely. Smoking just became part of who I was.

So there I was years later — free from meth, free from everything else — sitting in a restaurant corner feeling crushed over two pulls of a cigarette.

Part of it was memory. Knocking on doors again. The same pattern. The same behavior. The same rationalization.

But most of it was this sinking realization:

I blew it.

The Fork in the Road

The next two days were worse.

I started negotiating internally.

Maybe I just confess this to God and move on.No one needs to know.It’s not a big deal.

And then I remembered who I used to be.

The guy who always justified.The guy who always blamed circumstances.The guy who always found a way around conviction.

I was done being him.

Two days later, I found a pastor on campus and told him everything. No minimizing. No framing. No excuses.

And I was stunned by the response.

Mercy.

Scripture says it plainly:

“Whoever conceals their sin does not prosper,but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy.”— Proverbs 28:13

This was never about nicotine.

It was about breaking agreement with a master that had ruled my life for years. It was about learning to respond to conviction before it went quiet again.

Anyone who has lived in addiction knows this truth: if you ignore that inner voice long enough, it almost disappears.

That day, I chose to listen.

From that point on, temptation was easier to recognize. Escape was easier to find. Freedom became something I actually walked in — not just talked about.

I’ve never smoked another cigarette since.

What Freedom Looks Like Now

This is how I try to live today:

“I have the right to do anything,” you say — but not everything is beneficial.“I have the right to do anything” — but I will not be mastered by anything.— 1 Corinthians 6:12

That’s the line I refuse to cross now.

Not because God is waiting to punish me —but because I’ve tasted what it’s like to finally be free.

And I don’t ever want to go back.