Jonathan Tepper, Shooting Up: A Memoir of Love, Loss and Addiction,

Author Background

Jonathan Tepper seems like a rather amazing and interesting individual. He grew up as a missionary kid among drug addicts. And yet received the Rhodes Scholarship, which is extremely difficult to get. It is one of the most prestigious and competitive awards, and requires exceptional academic achievement, but also outstanding leadership, character, and commitment to serve others. He earned an M.Litt. in Modern History from the University of Oxford. He is now the Chief Investment Officer of Prevatt Capital.

In addition to the book we’re reviewing, he wrote The Myth of Capitalism, which was ranked as one of the Best Books of 2018 in Economics by the Financial Times. Tepper does not mean that capitalism does not exist, but that monopolies ruin the benefits of capitalism. This is true in regard to large-scale markets as well as the local scale of your internet provider. We need a recovery and appropriate enforcement of antitrust laws to protect consumers and competition itself. So, part of the financial problem many families face is not a problem of capitalism but competition. Much of the apparent competition is an illusion. All the while, companies with a monopoly pay what they want and price how they want. The monopoly wins, and competition and the average American lose. 

Introduction

Shooting Up tells the story of the author growing up in a drug slum in Spain, where his missionary parents sacrificially loved and cared for heroin addicts. This eventually led to the founding of a groundbreaking drug rehabilitation center. It tells the true tale of care and dedication in the midst of destructive addiction. It recounts one family’s real and gritty love for the forgotten and left behind. It’s honest about the harsh realities of the world and the questions and struggles life brings. 

If God could part the Red Sea and multiply loaves and fish, why didn’t God heal His faithful followers dying of AIDS? “Jesus healed the lepers and raised the dead. He spat into the mud and rubbed it into the blind man’s eyes to heal him. But the Bible stories all  seemed like a sick joke when the men and women in the center were dying with no healing in sight.” (p. 203)

Here’s my own set of questions: “If Jesus loves the little children so much, then why did Ollie, Paige, MarieAnne, Torry, Terrance, and others need to die? If Jesus brings transformation, why did Mike steal Christmas presents from his kids to buy drugs‽”

I’ve always thought addiction is a microcosm of the sinful world we inhabit. It highlights the effects of sin in high definition and accelerated form. Shooting Up is an honest account of addiction, recovery, and loss seen through the eyes of a young boy coming to grips with the rugged realities we call life. “Shooting Up is a quietly devastating coming-of-age memoir that is as unsettling as it is unforgettable—a haunting exploration of belief, belonging, and the costs of sacrifice.” 

The author graciously shared a free copy for me to review. I was immediately interested based on my experience with my heroin addict friends. 

Insights and Impact

Overall, I appreciated the real-life story with real-life struggles and wrestling. It reflects the harsh realities we face in life. I also felt compelled to a real, gritty, in-the-trenches with people love. Love like Jesus’ love—Light going into darkness, the Pure entering putrid. Of course, that’s not the full reality. For when we truly enter into others’ lives, we see how alike we are to them, no matter what we thought before. We see our humanity is their humanity.

Four specific lessons stuck out to me…

1) Incarnation is real and painful.

In the house, there was a plaque with a quote from C. T Studd: “Some want to live within the sound of church or chapel bell; I want to run a rescue shop, within a yard of hell.” (p. 6) That’s what the Tepper family did. And in doing so, they imitated our Lord Jesus. Jesus had said, “As the Father has sent me, even so, in the same way, I am sending you.” The Tepper family listened and incarnated themselves into a diffrent people and culture. 

In the incarnation, God entered flesh. “Carnal” often has bad connotations. Yet, Jesus became in-carnate—in flesh. Jesus is God with boots on, well, sandals. If Jesus were walking our streets today, He would be talking and making disciples of junkies. 

Or as Bono from U2 said, “If Jesus were on earth you’d find him in a gay bar in San Francisco. He’d be working with people suffering from AIDS. These people are the new lepers. If you want to find out where Jesus would be hanging outit’ll be with the lepers.” (Alan Hirsch and Michael Frost, The Shaping of Things to Come, p. 44). 

Sadly, very often we as Christians are ex-carnational. We have a come and see mentality that makes those who don’t know Jesus cross borders—whatever those borders are—and be missionaries themselves. That, however, was not the case with the Tepper family. They infleshed the gospel. 

The Bible is honest about the brutality of the incarnation. Jesus took on flesh, and His flesh was bruised and battered, and He Himself was tempted (Heb. 4:15). Jesus, the Light, plummeted into our darkness, and the devil threw his worst at Him. When we serve and incarnate ourselves, we should expect no less. 

One of the difficult things about ministry, however, is that the whole family is often swallowed up by it. Missionary kids and pastor kids don’t necessarily choose ministry, but they’re still stuck in the thick of it.

“If your parents are engineers, plumbers, or lawyers, it doesn’t matter one bit to your life, but if your parents are missionaries, it changes everything. You can’t pick your parents, but they get to pick your life. They decide where you’ll live, when you’ll pack your bags and go, and you’ll get roped into their work saving the lost.” (p. 9)

2) After repairs, there are still scars.

There’s a theme of repairing what is broken throughout the book. Repairing furniture, cleaning up buildings, and helping addicts. One of the things the drug rehabilitation center did to stay afloat financially was a furniture repair shop. “When the used or abandoned furniture entered through the doorway, the pieces came in with scrapes and dents, disfigured by years of neglect and abuse. The former owners had been unkind to the dressers, wardrobes, and desks. The handles were missing, the mirrors cracked and shattered, and often layers of faded paint covered what had once been solid oak.” (p. 70)

The men “took the furniture apart piece by piece, revealing stains and scratches in the wood, and peeling off all the old coats of paint.” (p. 70) “They loved taking something others thought was rubbish, cleaning it, caring for it and transforming into something new with sandpaper, varnish and care.” (p. 37) Maybe the men saw something in the funiture that resembled themselves. 

“As a child,” the author shared, “I believed that no matter how broken and scarred by scrapes the pieces were when they entered the shop, they could always be restored. Now, though, I saw that although the scratches and scars grew fainter, they were never gone. The woodworm remained hidden, but the ravages of time could never fully be reversed. How easily we are damaged, and how hard to put back together.” (p. 180)

The Apostle Paul said in 2 Corinthians 5:17 that if anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation; the old has gone, behold, all things are new. But he also said “before transformed by the renewal of your mind” and that we “are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor. 3:18). Transformation takes time, and scars remain. It’s true of furniture, and it’s true of each of us in this life. 

3) There are blessings and perils to education.

The Tepper family clearly valued education, but there are particular perils to education. The author shares that he couldn’t decide on many things about his life, but with his books and encyclopedias, his mind was free to roam where it wanted. “Books could fit in any backpack, yet they contained entire worlds. They were my magic carpet to change reality and take me wherever I wanted.”

“Books filled every corner of our small apartment. My parents had made a study with bookcases that lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling, as my father had when he was growing up. Books were stacked randomly in piles on the carpet like stalagmites. My parents said books had the power to transport and transform you.” (p. 9)

Education can be a blessing but also baffling. The author quotes Solomon: “For in much wisdom is much grief; and he that increases knowledge increases sorrow” (Eccl. 1:18). “Education can be a bittersweet experience. For all the joy of discovery, sometimes I wished I were a house painter and had skipped school when I was twelve. I would know how to read, but I might not be troubled by questions of belief. (p. 202)

4) Beauty will break forth from the brokenness.

Very tragically, the author’s mother got a brain tumor. After her surgery, she was not the same. She took her own life in 2012. She jumped from the rooftop of the drug rehab headquarters.

“With the added perspective of time, death has made me aware of the preciousness of life, the importance of family and friends, and the overwhelming power of love and memory.” The author goes on to share, “Shattering tragedies have marked my life, but I was always surrounded by a loving family and community. True misfortune and trauma are for those who suffer and are not surrounded by love.” (p. 266)

Yet, in reading the book, a question replayed in my mind. Why, if God is good, is there suffering? More than that, why doesn’t God protect His own faithful servants from suicide? There are many questions beyond my understanding, but I know God is love. And soon sin, and its chorus of chaos will end, and new creation will resound. 

As the author said, “My mother suffered a great deal, and now she is suffering no more. I hope people will remember what a wonderful woman she was all her life. I never met a kinder, gentler, more selfless person.” (p. 264) 

As Julian of Norwich said, and as is quoted in the book, 

All shall be well and 
All manner of things shall be well.

That is the Christian hope. We can minister in the dark because the light has come, and soon it will totally overwhelm the darkness. 

Favorite Quotes 

Suffering itself is meaningless. It is our response to it that gives it meaning, and it is not an easy task to thread the needle of suffering. The answer to suffering is always more love. We can love those who are hurting, and when we are grieving, we can treasure and remember those who have passed.(p. 266)

I could come home in the years ahead, but it would never truly be the same. You cannot turn back the days to the hours of youth and health. Home is not even a place; it is a fleeting state of mind—of innocence—you can never go back to. You can never truly go home. (p. 224)

Why was it that some Christians took parts of the Bible so literally—the seven-day creation, the flood, and the endless genealogies— yet viewed the Sermon on the Mount with its call to meekness, kindness, and love, and the Ten Commandments, as mere suggestions? (p. 117-18)

Suffering itself is meaningless. It is our response to it that gives it meaning, and it is not an easy task to thread the needle of suffering. The answer to suffering is always more love. We can love those who are hurting, and when we are grieving, we can treasure and remember those who have passed. (p. 266)

Every great love story will eventually become one of loss. If we do not love, we will not suffer. We cannot have it any other way. (p. 266)

Hate destroys you, but love transforms us and the world around us. (p. 69)

My mother and father had reason to be proud of all they accomplished over the decades, but not because of the size of the building or the numbers of addicts in the centers. My parents did not set out to create a large organization, seek political influence, or fight any culture wars. They set out to show compassion to one addict at a time. (p. 262)

What a vast gap between knowledge and wisdom! I was no more responsible for my odd, schizophrenic childhood than they were for their normal ones, yet I placed the burden upon them to understand me. It is easier to blame others than to accept our shortcomings and grow. And so I retreated further into my shell. (p. 224)

If only my parents had not taught me how to think, I would not have had the tools to take my own beliefs apart piece by piece and to saw off the branch I was sitting on. (p. 202)

“Thank you, Lord, that while we were stealing from the slot machines last night you didn’t let the police catch us. Thank you, God, for looking after your sheep. Amen.” (p. 39)

Some Christians were the worst possible advertisements for Christianity. (p. 117)

David shared a room with Timmy, and I bunked with Peter, who was only one year, two months, and one day younger than me. But my parents’ books had a room all to themselves. (p. 10)