By Mark Bruno as told to Chris Knight
Go ahead, Mark, you had one an hour ago. You might as well have another one now. You can’t possibly make your life any more miserable.
I leaned against the garage workbench in our house. The late morning sun brightened the open entrance to the garage. Songs of chirping sparrows filled the air. While peace and joy ran their course outside, in my mind I fought a losing battle. In my left hand, I held a lighter. In my right hand, I rolled back and forth between my fingers the object of my mental conflict—a cigarette, fresh from the package.
Two years before, I had searched the entire house and disposed of every pack of cigarettes I could find. I was convinced that my long addiction was finally conquered.
Meanwhile, summer turned to fall, then fall to winter. One chilly morning, I wore a jacket I had not worn for about a year. As I stepped into the frigid morning air, I reached inside my pocket to find an overlooked pack of cigarettes.
It’s been so long since I smoked a cigarette.
As I pulled out one of the inviting tubes of tobacco, I imagined the refreshing warmth of the cigarette—like being in a cozy, warm room on a freezing December day. I lit the cigarette and placed it between my lips.
I’ll only smoke one. Just one shouldn’t hurt too much. This will be the last one.
Excuses flooded my mind as I silenced the still, small voice within me.
This continued for two and a half years. “Just one” became “just one more.” Then I would quit again—for a month. Then it would be “just one more” again and again.
This is the last one, and then I’m finished for good, I would deceive myself.
Now, here I was, once again determined to end this enslaving addiction. With one last, desperate attempt, I crinkled the cigarette pack in my fist, threw it in the trash, and slammed the lid shut. I had overcome! Or had I? The temptation was too overwhelming. I threw open the lid of the trash can and jerked out another cigarette from the wrinkled pack.
That night, I prayed to God in despair and humility. “Lord,” I cried. “I can’t do it. I’ve been trying for over two years. There’s nothing I can do to stop. I’m not even going to try anymore. If You want me to quit smoking, You’re going to have to do it. The problem is Yours. Do what it takes to break my addiction.”
I got up from my knees feeling lighter, as if a great weight had been taken off my shoulders. My problem was now in God’s hands. Suddenly, thoughts of lung cancer bolted through my mind. Now that would be pretty convincing! I shuddered at the thought.
Back on my knees again, I pled, “Lord, please be gentle!”
One night, I found myself in a strange room. Dim lights cast dancing shadows throughout the room. Familiar friends and family spoke in hushed tones to one another. I strolled over to a coworker.
“Hey! What’s going on?” No reply. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence. I tapped him on the shoulder. Not even noticing, he continued talking to another friend who also didn’t seem to see me. Frustrated, I walked past them.
As I moved to the far side of the room, crying broke the hushed atmosphere. Close family members were weeping in front of an open black coffin. A cold, icy feeling tingled up my spine. I realized that I was in a funeral home. I walked past the mourning family and peered into the open coffin. I gasped! It was me!
Terror surged through me as I read the death certificate placed on the chest of the corpse. On bright parchment paper, written in the blackest of ink were the unmistakable words—“Cause of death: cigarettes.”
I jerked awake with beads of sweat lining my forehead. The jet-black writing burned deep within my mind.
Several weeks later, the dream and those menacing words forgotten, my wife and I were invited to a health seminar conducted by Dr. Rose, a chiropractor and nutritionist. After the first lecture, we were dismissed for a 15-minute break. As I got up to go outside, all set to have a smoke, Dr. Rose said, “For those of you who are still stupid enough to be smoking, I would like to ask you to stay behind. I have some interesting information you might want to hear.”
Sure, I thought. I had heard all of the warnings and dangers about smoking.
I did some quick calculations—smoking a pack and a half of cigarettes a day was like receiving 300 chest X-rays a year. And I’d been smoking for 15 years!
Yet something encouraged me to stay behind and listen to what he had to say.
“Did you know that smoking supplies your body with several vitamins?” the doctor proceeded.
No kidding, that’s interesting. I had never heard that one before.
“It’s true,” he continued. “The tobacco plant has a shopping list of vitamins and minerals that it pulls from the soil. But along with these minerals, it also pulls two radioactive compounds. That’s right! Tobacco thrives on these elements. These radioactive isotopes are stored in the veins of the plant and accumulate over time. When you smoke the leaves, the radioactive particles convert to a gas and penetrate through the lungs. Then, as the vapors cool, they reform back into particles. Now you have radioactive debris swimming around in your lungs—for life. Your body cannot dispose of it. You are subjected to a lifelong radiation risk.”
Hmmm. I’m a walking Chernobyl. The thought of being a living radioactive waste plant didn’t impress me.
“Now, one more interesting tidbit,” the doctor added. “How many cigarettes do you go through in a day? Did you know that one and a half packs of cigarettes smoked every day for one year are equivalent to receiving 300 chest X-rays a year?”
I did some quick calculations. 300 chest X-rays a year. I’ve been smoking for 15 years. Hmmm…
That was enough for me! I stormed outside, pulled out the pack of cigarettes, crumpled them up, and dumped them into an ashtray. I knew from that point on, I was no longer a smoker.
Twenty-nine years have passed. I can honestly say that since that day, I have never felt the desire to smoke another cigarette. God worked a miracle in my life. Though God works in different ways for different people, the principle is always the same. When we humble ourselves before Him, realizing that we cannot overcome our sinful habits on our own, that only through His grace and power are we able to have victory, then God will work a miracle. He will provide just the right circumstances to encourage us to leave our sinful practices behind. He will tear away the desires that hold us in bondage, and He will set us free.
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Chris Knight was a Christian Publications Management student at Hartland College when he wrote this article. Mark Bruno currently resides in Madison, Virginia, and has been smoke-free for 45 years.