Addiction, prayer, Recovery, Spiritual Principles, Twelve Steps

God-Centeredness and Marbles in a Box on the Shelf

When I was a young boy, I found a small metal box in the attic of my grandmother’s home. Inside that box was a collection of marbles. Some of them were very old, and I found them intriguing. Grandma told me I was free to take them home with me, so I did.

I held onto them for years. Occasionally, I would get that box down from the shelves in my bedroom, and scatter them across the comforter on my bed to look at them. I would analyze them, and sort them in all sorts of ways. Then, when I was finished, I would put them back into their metal box; and place that box on the shelf once again.

Years later, with children of my own, I would bring that metal box out on occasion. I would tell stories of Grandma’s attic, and how I had once found the box. We even invented a game that was like Bocce Ball, where we would roll one large marble across the carpet, then take turns seeing who could land a marble closest to it.

A few years ago, when I was going through my divorce, I was only able to take a few things with me. Most items of sentimental value had to be abandoned. Among those items was that metal box filled with marbles. My best guess is that it ended up either in the trash, or as a donation to a thrift store. Whatever the case, I no longer have that little metal box, or the marbles.

For far too long, I treated God like that metal box filled with marbles. Despite being told that I could have a meaningful relationship with Him, I kept Him in a box on the shelf most of the time. Sure, God was brought down off of that shelf on Sundays. Sometimes, I brought God down from that shelf more often even; but in the end, I would always box Him up, and put Him back in His place.

Like the marbles, I spent a good deal of time analyzing God too. I wanted to sort out just who He was. I wanted to understand God’s nature, His power, and His potential for influencing my life. Also like those marbles, though, I would eventually grow tired to my pursuits, and fit God back neatly in His box on the shelf of my mind.

During the days of my active addiction, I lost track of the box in which I had been keeping God. There just isn’t room for God when I am using drugs. Like that metal box filled with marbles, I assumed I had lost God for good. After all, I had left no room for Him in my life. It would be no surprise if He had given up on me for good.

God had escaped from the box in which I had kept Him for all those years. Of course He was gone for good.

Imagine my surprise when I got clean, and began working the Twelve Steps, only to find that God had not gone anywhere afterall. God was still there, and He wanted to play an active role in my recovery from drug addiction. I knew in Step One that I was broken beyond my ability to repair myself. Step Two assured me that God could make the repairs that I could not; and in Step Three, I gained the willingness to let Him.

In Step Eleven, I made the decision to change how I had been treating God. Trying to keep Him in a box on the shelf, only to be pulled down on occasion would no longer do. I need to regularly seek God’s will for my life, and the power to carry it out.

Today, I make seeking God’s will a daily priority. It begins with prayer each morning. Then, meditation in the form of writing about ways in which I can best practice the spiritual principles He has put in place.

I do my very best to keep God at the center of every day. Seeking His will for my life, after all, has proven much more successful than trying to live in self-will. There may still be times when I try to put God back in a box. When I do, though, it doesn’t take long for me to be reminded where that approach landed me the last time I did so.

I am forever grateful for the role God chooses to play in my life and recovery. He never gave up on me; and He never will. When I practice God-centeredness in my life, I find the power to fully enjoy the new way of life I have found in recovery. A life that is more than just a life of abstinence. It is a life filled with freedom and joy.

Have a remarkable day!

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