A recent webinar hosted by the Community Addictions Peer Support Association (CAPSA) delivered a profound message. It wasn’t just another public health presentation; it was a deeply moving invitation for churches and community groups to fundamentally rethink their approach to substance use. It called us to embody the compassion of Christ in tangible, practical ways, confronting the pervasive issue of stigma.

The CAPSA presenters emphasized that substance use exists on a spectrum. People relate to substances in myriad ways—from complete abstinence to occasional use, to higher-risk patterns, and even to substance use disorders. What unites everyone on this spectrum, regardless of their experience, is the fundamental human need to be seen, valued, and supported—not judged.

One of the greatest barriers people face, as highlighted in the webinar, is stigma. It’s rooted in false beliefs that label individuals who use substances as “bad,” “broken,” “dangerous,” or “morally weak.” These beliefs are not only untrue but deeply harmful. They isolate people from their communities and prevent them from seeking the very support and healing that should be available, especially within faith communities. As a Christian, I was struck by how contrary this stigma is to the life and teachings of Jesus. Christ welcomed the outcast, touched the unclean, and extended mercy without conditions, before any confession or change.

A truly tangible takeaway from the webinar was the critical importance of language. Words carry immense power. Labels like “addict,” “junkie,” or even terms like “clean” can dehumanize and shame. Instead, we are encouraged to use person-first language—phrases such as “a person who uses substances,” “a person in recovery,” or “someone with lived experience.” This simple shift can affirm a person’s dignity and worth, reminding them (and us) that they are not defined by their struggles. They are human beings made in the image of God.

Perhaps the most convicting reminder was that compassion does not have conditions. Within the church, we can sometimes unconsciously link compassion to behavior. We might show care only if someone is actively trying to change, if they meet certain expectations, or if they align with our moral framework. But God’s love is not earned by behavior—and neither should our care be. As Christians, we are called to walk with people, not fix them. Our support must begin with empathy, presence, and a willingness to listen without judgment.

We also learned that fear-based approaches to substance use, often relying solely on prevention messages, frequently fail to support real change. While prevention certainly has a role, health promotion is far more effective. This means creating environments of trust, encouraging mental and spiritual well-being, and providing emotional and practical support. In short, the church can and should be a space of healing. We may not all be medical professionals or counselors, but we are ministers of hope. Every member can offer something vital: a listening ear, a compassionate word, a safe place to belong.

Bearing One Another’s Burdens

Reflecting on the session, my thoughts turned to Paul’s words in Galatians 6:2: “Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” To bear another’s burden means to sit with them in their struggle without judgment, to offer presence without pressure, and to love without conditions. It means recognizing that substance use is part of a person’s story, not the whole story, and never the final word on their worth.

This experience has profoundly challenged me to consider how we, as people of faith, can be more intentional in removing stigma from our language, our relationships, and our ministries. What would it truly look like for our churches to become places where people who use substances feel safe, welcomed, and loved? How might we examine our own assumptions, and how can we embody the radical hospitality of Jesus in this context?

The call is clear: we are not asked to be experts, but to be faithful. Faithful in listening, in loving, and in standing beside others. May we open our doors—and our hearts—to those the world has often shamed. And may we always remember that in doing so, we are welcoming Christ himself.