Faith and Keeping My Eye on the Ball

Mike was a talented pitcher. He pitched for the A’s. No, not the Oakland A’s. Mike pitched for the Lowell A’s. The Little League baseball team on which I played as a child.

He had beautiful form on the mound. He had obviously invested a lot of time with his dad working on his wind-up, as well as on a variety of different pitches. The fastball was Mike’s specialty, though. It was deadly accurate, and for a young boy, pretty darn fast. Fast enough, in fact, that no one wanted to stand too close to home plate when Mike was pitching.

One day, playing on a dusty field in late July, we all discovered that Mike had an Achilles’ heel in his pitching game. Once he had let go of the ball, he assumed his job was done. Off balance, and catching his breath, Mike would take his eye off of the batter for ever-so-brief a period of time.

No one had noticed it before that day; but when it caught up with him, everyone quickly saw its effects. The young boy who was at bat had hit Mike’s fastball. In fact, he had hit it right back at Mike. In that flash of an eye when Mike found himself distracted, the ball slammed right into his forehead. He fell to the ground like a rag doll. The coach rushed to the field. Soon, he was joined at the mound by the umpire and Mike’s mother.

There was nothing for the rest of us to do but to stand by helplessly, wondering what would happen. Thankfully, Mike after a few minutes, Mike was back on his feet. His mom took him to see the doctor, just to be safe. Soon, he was throwing that fastball again. Only now, he had learned not to take his eye off the ball… EVER!

Earlier this week, at the very beginning of the mission trip my son Shaun and I are on with the youth group from our church, the Youth Director spoke of how easy it is to be drawn close to God during a week like this one. With the distractions and responsibilities of home life removed, it is natural to find ourselves spending time in prayer, communing with Him. This is especially true when so many emotions are tied to each day as we do whatever we are called to do to show love to others.

His warning, though, concerned our return home and to our normal routines. It is so easy to let that time with God slide. To take our eye off the ball. A.K.A. our relationship with Him. This can be a gradual process, or; as with Mike and that line drive to his forehead, it can happen in a heartbeat.

Faith has been an important factor throughout most of my life. Back when I was Shaun’s age, we had a Youth Director at our church who inspired me in my faith. It was a process that continued over the course of my teenage years and into adulthood. Eventually, however, that faith began to falter. I had become an empty-nester, and allowed myself to take my eye off of God pretty regularly.

Eventually, I had turned my eye so far from Him that I found myself smack in the middle of my addiction. Without even realizing it, I had completely turned from God; putting all my faith in my drug of no choice – meth. It became my god. I began each day with it, focused on it throughout the day, and often sacrificed sleep to it. All because I took my eye off the ball.

Then, one day I found myself laying in the dirt. I’d been taken out by my addiction. All that I had done to feed it became suddenly known to those around me. Though a few came to my side to help me, most simply watched from the bleachers. They were either too stunned, or too disgusted by the exposure of my Achilles’ heel to help me up.

When I decided to give recovery through the Twelve Steps a try, I was mostly hoping that I could get clean, and that by doing so, I could have another chance at life. Back then, I truly believed that I had had my back turned to God for so long that He surely had walked away. That He would no longer have interest in drawing me back to Him.

However, I soon discovered that my faith would play a vital role in my recovery. So vital, in fact, that it is addressed immediately following Step One, in Steps Two and Three. I quickly discovered that He had never left me. He had never given up on me, or my chances to become the person He desired me to be. By the time I had finished with Step Three, I was praying for God to take my will and my life with confidence that He would. I was experiencing the power of my faith, and how it grew as I learned to seek His will.

I’m up extra early this morning. We are getting an early start on our day, so I needed an early start to allow ample time for prayer and meditation. You see, I have experienced the fallout that comes from taking my eye off the ball. As an addict, that fallout can be deadly. I’m reminded of just how deadly it is every time a friend from recovery relapses and dies as a result of this disease.

Statistically, it is pretty certain that at least a couple of the students on this week’s trip will battle with addiction. My heart aches for them, even before they turn down that road. Fortunately, though, we serve a God who is mightier than addiction or statistics. I’m living proof of this fact. So, I pray for each and every one of us on this trip, that we would all keep our eyes on God, even after the excitement of this trip has faded. Lord, please grant us the faith to keep our focus on You. Help each of us to learn to focus on our faith.

Have a remarkable day!

Perseverance – Because Someone Has To

Sitting here this morning, contemplating the spiritual principle of perseverance, I began thinking about how much I reflect on my childhood. It is something that comes out regularly in my writing, as I look back at how the lessons I learned during my formative years helped to shape me into the person I am today. It occurred to me that some might question the idyllic light I cast on my childhood years. So, for any skeptics, and perhaps especially for my parents who probably wonder if I truly see my childhood that way, let me declare once and for all that yes, it was that good!

Sure, there were problems. My brother and I fought – A LOT! There were the occasional scrapes and bruises. Mom had to pull more than one tick from our heads (and other parts) after spending too much time in the woods. I made mistakes, failed tests, even got a “D” in fourth grade for my poor handwriting skills. So, no, it was not perfect; but it was very close!

When, as an adult, my problems with addiction to meth became known to them; Mom, Dad, and John stood by me. They offered help in so many different ways; but most of all, I knew that they were persevering with me. They were unwilling to throw in the towel. There was no question in my mind that they believed in me, because they kept showing me that they did.

There is a myth among recovering addicts that says we all have the same chances at recovery. It is even implied in the literature published by the Twelve Step organization with which I am affiliated. This is, however, just a myth. There is hard data that shows that someone like me has a much better chance at recovery. That when family is there, and is supportive, an addict has a much better chance of success. Thus, I never take the advantages in life that I have experienced for granted. Or, at least I try not to.

I was recently reminded of the importance of having a persevering family in my life, and the influence they have had on my ability to persevere in my recovery. It was an experience that reminded me that when an addict does not persevere, their families will be forced to.

We visited with three children of an addict who were guests in our home. The oldest of the siblings has two children of her own; and despite having more than enough on her own plate, has taken on the leadership / parenting role for the family. There is a lot of pain and anger when they talk about their mother. Who can blame them? I cannot even begin to understand what life has been like for them. I just know that whatever the opposite of idyllic is, that word would describe what they have endured. What they have persevered.

Though they become rarer with the passing of time, there are still those occasions when throwing in the towel on recovery seems like the answer to life. When either depression or anxiety build, and there seems to be no way through, I remember how easy it was to self-medicate with drugs. Practicing perseverance at such times is invaluable. I am able to play the tape through on drug use, and visualize the impact that using will have on me. Perhaps even more importantly, I can visualize the impact that abusing drugs would have on the people who love me.

Such acts of visualization help me to choose healthy alternatives to self-medicating. I can pray, pick up the phone, or schedule an appointment with my therapist. These healthy alternatives help me to persevere. It is hard work; but it is worth it. Not only because it keeps me healthy; but because it means that the people I love most will never again be forced to persevere on my behalf, as long as I continue my recovery journey.

Today, I pray for perseverance. I pray that I would never again be the source of pain or anger for those I love, and who love me.

Have a remarkable day!

Vigilance and the Value of Intimacy

There is an old story of a husband and wife who have been married for decades. One day, as they sit reminiscing about their lives together, the man asks his wife if there is anything she wishes he had done differently through the years.

She hesitates, then works up the courage to say, ”Well, I wish you would have told me you loved me once in a while.”

The husband is shocked; and replies, ”I told you I love you when we got engaged. If I had changed my mind, I’d have told you.”

I cannot imagine this scenario actually having ever been played out in a relationship; but the point of the story is a very good one. While I may have had a few relationships that can be picked up after years without contact, for the most part, relationships die if nothing is done to foster their growth. It might be nice to imagine that love can be so strong that it never requires reinforcement; but that is just not reality.

I was sharing about this concept last night at a recovery meeting. The topic was relationships, and how they can affect our recovery. Intimacy in relationships was the focus, and people kept talking about the intimate relationship they share with their sponsors.

Your sponsors???

Look, I love my sponsor; and I deeply appreciate all he does to build into my life. However, I think the topic was supposed to be geared toward those relationships in which we share lives together. The long term relationships that blossom into marriage, or some other form of lasting bond.

So, I did what I so often do at meetings. I spoke my mind.

I pointed out the amount of work that goes into a relationship. Talked about the importance of investing time and energy in demonstrating love. How much counseling can help, especially counseling done before the road gets rocky. (I may have even called B.S. on the fact that people will spend hundreds of dollars on the latest pair of sneakers, but think marriage counseling is too expensive.)

Anyway, I said what I said for me, more than for anyone else. While I would love to be able to honestly say that I am the perfect spouse, I am not. I never will be. Then again, perfection in a relationship is not possible. Even if I manage to pull together a few days in a row of being a really good husband, left to my own devices I will let Amanda down.

Thankfully, when times like those come, she is not shy about talking to me about it. She helps me to see when something is lacking in our relationship. At the same time, I am learning to do the same for her when I need to. It is that sort of vigilance that keeps our relationship healthy, and it can work in any relationship.

This kind of vigilance is also necessary in recovery. Strong relationships do not happen over night. Nor can they be sustained by one act of love from long ago. Intimacy requires vigilance just like my body requires my heart to be constantly breathing. So it is in recovery.

Sure, the spiritual principles I practiced yesterday may carry me for a few days. So might the prayers I prayed or the time invested in seeking God’s will. Eventually, however, the effect of these things will fade. The same goes for the steps I worked when I first got clean. The healing they first brought to my spirit will last for a while; but the impact they once had will eventually fade.

The key to my recovery is like the key to a healthy, intimate relationship. I have to remain vigilant in practicing principles, communing with God, and working the steps. As I do, I find that recovery becomes intimate. I do not question its value, nor do I feel drawn to old behaviors. Instead, I discover freedom that lasts.

Have a remarkable day!

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!

Trust and Making Good Decisions

On weeknights, I set my alarm for 5:00 a.m. By getting up at this hour, I can be sure that I give ample time to my morning routine of prayer and meditation.

I have a rule though, that if I am awake at or anytime after 4:00, I get out of bed and begin my day that much earlier. It is my experience that trying to squeeze a few extra minutes of sleep out of the night between 4:00 and 5:00 is an exercise in futility. Why toss and turn, when I could be drinking coffee and communing with God instead?

Well, this was one such morning. I actually awoke around 3:30, and did all the tossing and turning I could in hopes of falling back asleep before 4:00. As you can tell, I had no luck in this endeavor.

The interesting thing about my internal alarm clock, and its inconvenient habit of waking me earlier than I might otherwise like, is that I have learned to trust it. As much as I like my sleep, oh, and trust me, I do love my sleep; I have never found myself wishing I had slept later. There are no afternoons spent cursing my internal alarm for a lack of sleep.

This morning, for example, I was treated to something that I would have missed by rising any later. There is a big, bright, full moon this morning. The light reflecting off of it had my entire backyard illuminated in a beautiful white light. It is a scene that is already fading as the moon drops ever closer to the horizon.

Learning to trust myself, even where something as simple as getting out of bed is concerned, had to be re-learned when I came into recovery. For me, and many addicts like me who struggle with depression along with addiction, trusting any decision I tried to make early on seemed impossible. I was haunted by the horrible decisions I had made that had necessitated recovery in the first place. A condition that was only made worse by the indecisiveness brought on by severe depression.

Not only could I not trust a decision, I could not even make one.

I discovered that the drugs had become a form of self-medication for my depression. Once they were gone from my system, so was my ability to cope with the darkness that blanketed my every thought. It was as though I had been ushered into an even deeper level of Hell in Dante’s Inferno. The experience did not leave me with warm fuzzies where recovery was concerned. I wondered often if it was just another in a series of bad decisions.

One of the miracles of recovery is that over time, I have grown to once again trust my own decisions. When I finally had enough clarity of thought to address my depression through a combination of counseling and medications, I became able to actually work Steps with my sponsor. As I did, I began to uncover some of the character defects that were fueling my bad decisions in the first place. At the same time, I was being introduced to spiritual principles that could be applied to situations rather than acting out on those defects of character.

Slowly, as I did so, I became able to trust myself once again.

Sadly, my experience runs smack up against one of the greatest myths being propagated in recovery. I hear this myth being parroted all the time, in meetings far and wide. “When faced with a decision, my first thought is always a bad one.”

Don’t get me wrong. I can buy into this philosophy for someone brand new in recovery. I think back on some of the crazy ideas I had early on, and can agree that many, if not most, were not trustworthy. You know… like that decision I had made to simply spend a few days in detox rather than committing to in-patient treatment for addiction. Yeah, that was a doozy of a bad idea!

As time marched on, and I began seeking God’s will for my life, such bad decisions became less and less prevalent in my life. I find it very hard to believe that I am alone in this change. Surely others find it possible to make good decisions too as they grow in their recovery. Yet, I still hear my peers, even ones with many years of clean time parroting the old “My first thought is always a bad one” cliché.

This lack of self-trust seems to have a common source; the insecure, overbearing, narcissistic sponsor. You know the one. It is the sponsor who expects… yes, EXPECTS to be consulted on every matter. They have rewritten Step Eleven to meet the needs of their ever-growing egos. It goes something like this: “We sought through phone calls and after-meeting heart-to-heart conversations, to improve our conscious contact with our sponsor, praying only for the knowledge of his will for us, and the power to carry it out.”

Yep, that’ll do it. No need for those pesky spiritual principles now. I have a sponsor to tell me what to do. After all, he keeps telling me my first decision is always a bad one. Never mind that they make the same claim about their own decisions, yet expect me to somehow trust them? How does that make sense???

I know I have digressed here, but I do so hoping that any recovering addict reading this who has been caught up in the notion that their decision-making abilities have been forever broken will find some hope. Hope that there is a road to trusting one’s self again. That road is the one that properly interprets Step Eleven. A road that causes the recovering addict to seek only God’s will for their life, and the power to carry it out.

That is the road that allows me to trust my decisions. Even when they include hopping out of bed at 4:00 a.m. A decision on which I assure you, my sponsor does not want to be consulted.

Have a remarkable day!

Humility and Moments of Silence

At the end of every recovery meeting, pandemic not withstanding, members stand in a circle, arms over one another’s shoulders, and recite a closing prayer. Usually, that prayer is preceded by a “moment of silence.” Quite often, the one leading that prayer will ask that members focus on something specific during that moment of silence. Perhaps the children caught in the crossfire of addiction. Or maybe that person who will pick up drugs for the first time that night, having no idea what kind of hell they are walking into. Then there is the focal point that is most poignant for me, the still-suffering addict.

When asked to reflect on the still-suffering addict, there is definitely one person who comes to mind. One for whom I know recovery could make a world of difference. So that person is usually first in my thoughts. As that moment of silence lingers, my thoughts turn to an entirely different group of individuals; those with whom I used drugs.

In all the meetings I’ve attended, in all the various places I’ve traveled, I have never encountered one of those people at a Twelve Step meeting. Not even once.

Allowing that fact to set in always stirs a variety of emotions in me. There is part of me that is thankful. No, I’m not proud of this particular emotion, but I experience it just the same. A big part of me wonders how I would react if I saw one of them in a meeting. Especially knowing that the truth is I only played a negative role in the lives of those people.

Once past that selfish emotion, I begin to wonder what kind of lives they could have if they really let recovery take root in their lives. Would they see relationships with family members restored? Would they once again be trusted to raise their children? Could their lives be transformed the way mine has been? I know that the odds are that the answer to each of these questions would eventually be “yes.”

Emotions change so quickly. Thoughts pass in a fraction of a second. So then my thoughts turn to my own recovery. A healthy dose of “survivor’s guilt” sets up shop in my brain. “What makes me so special, that I was given the privilege of being introduced to recovery, and none of them have?”

Finally, as the moment of silence for the still-suffering addict draws to a close, it strikes me that there must be so many more addicts in the world than anybody possibly realizes. Just considering Tulsa, and the multitude of meetings we have here can make my head spin. There are literally hundreds of people who I have watched walk into the rooms of recovery for a time, only to walk right back out. People who are, for the most part, forgotten in the crowd. Some of whom I truly cared for once upon a time; but who slip my mind after being gone for a while.

Ah, the moment of silence has finally ended. I can finally stop feeling these emotions. Likewise, I can stop asking that terrible “Why me?” question. I can offer a parting hug to a handful of people who are especially important to me. Or perhaps to that guy who said he was attending his first meeting a few minutes ago. Then I can hop in the car with Amanda, and we can return to this incredible life we have built together. Off to spend time with the son we once thought would never live under our roof with us. Or perhaps to be with members of Amanda’s family I once swore would never fully accept us. (These days, there is so much love between us that I’m sure we make others jealous at times!)

When I think of those moments of silence, the only way that I can fully accept the life I enjoy when juxtaposed against the lives of the still-suffering addict, is through humility. Yes, I have done the work. I’ve attended meetings, worked steps, and done my best to apply spiritual principles rather that acting out on my character defects. However, nothing I was doing when I first heard about recovery from Amanda warranted my being lifted out of the hell of addiction.

Some would argue that it must have been God’s plan for me. That He ordained that online encounter during which Amanda shared the changes recovery was making in her life. Though such a thought is comforting at first, it leads me to then ask how that same God could allow all of those other people to remain trapped in addiction. Do I really think I’m that special? More special to God that all those others?

No, humility does not allow me to go there. I am left to realize that I was introduced to recovery in spite of myself.

Today, as I practice humility in my life, I am grateful for all that recovery has meant to me. I’m grateful for God, who was patiently waiting for me to return to Him. Grateful for family and friends. I’m also hopeful. Hopeful that one day, the still-suffering addicts I do and do not know, will find recovery too.

Have a remarkable day!

Humility, Pizza Receipts, and Prayer

I pressed “Submit” on my expense report on Monday morning, and when I did, I fully expected that one of the submitted expenses would cause it to be rejected. It was a receipt for 14 pizzas that had been served to customers last week. I had agreed to split the cost with a business associate, thinking I the pizza shop would be willing to split the bill when we went to collect them. Unfortunately, they had demanded pre-payment, so my associate had paid for all of them.

After snapping a picture of the receipt, and handing $90 cash over to my associate, I had this sinking feeling that I had just invested money that would never possibly be returned. Even to me, that receipt, with my scribbled notes, looked sketchy. Nope, I wouldn’t blame my boss for kicking that expense report back, and telling me I would need to delete that expense from it.

A little while later, when I saw that my expense report had been approved, without even a question from my boss, I was shocked at first. That shock was soon replaced with a slight feeling of satisfaction. I remembered his words during my evaluation a year ago, and even from two years ago. The question on the evaluation addressed my dependability as an employee. It is really a way at getting to the question of honesty or trustworthiness.

“Kent, I never question your honesty. Never.”

It is truly humbling to be told something like this. Even more humbling when those words are followed by actual trust. The kind that approves a $90 expense scribbled on a receipt that clearly shows someone else has paid the bill with their credit card.

My experience with that pizza expense offers a great reminder of how powerful recovery can be in the life of a drug addict. Ok, recovery can be powerful in anyone’s life really, but adding the words “drug addict” to the sentence seems to give it the right punch that it needs. After all, we are the pariahs of society. The reason prisons are filled to capacity. The source of fear among family, friend, and stranger alike. At least, that is how I used to view drug addicts.

It would be easy to stop the story there, and simply say that such occurrences in my life are simply “the benefits of recovery.” While it is true that they are, that simple sentence does not do justice to the recovery process. Nor does it give justice to the powerful prayer with which I start each and every day.

Take my will and my life – This is my daily plea for help from God. It is my admission that my self-will ultimately led me to feed my addiction. It acknowledges my awareness that the same could happen again. Therefore, I start my day by asking God to take that self-will away from me. Oh, and my life too. I want it to honor God. To be a reflection of His dream for my life, and its power.

Guide me in my recovery – My take on recovery is a little more dogmatic, I will admit. Asked what recovery is all about, many addicts will answer that it is a step-working program. There are even folks who loudly boast in the belief that they must “work the steps or die.” Yet, at the beginning of every meeting, one of our readings clearly states that “Our program is a set of principles, written so simply, that we can follow them in our daily lives.” Thus, when I seek God’s guidance, it is in hopes that He will allow me to see plainly how to apply spiritual principles in all of my affairs.

Show me how to live – Here is my daily dose of humility. God, I need help to know how to live. I feel ill-equipped to do life without your influence and guidance. I remember all too well the complex web of lies I once had spun to keep my drug abuse, and hidden life a secret. I remember how that all began with such small, seemingly insignificant little lies. Early on in my recovery, I needed God to show me how to live a life without such lies. I still need that help, so I humbly ask for it.

So, when my boss, or my family members trust me, I do not boast about my character. Instead, I boast about God’s power. I boast about the spiritual principles He has provided as an example of how to live. This simple prayer, humbly prayed each day, has somehow helped to transform me into a person who can be trusted. It is a prayer that has worked miracles in the lives of countless recovering addicts.

Have a remarkable day!

Patience and the Most Challenging Step

“We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us, and the power to carry that out.” – Step Eleven

Quite often in recovery meetings, the topic of discussion will turn to which step people think of as the hardest to work, or the most difficult to apply in daily living. Most often, people will refer to Step Four, the step requiring a “fearless and moral inventory of ourselves.” It’s the notion of taking a deep dive into one’s assets and liabilities that strikes fear into many. They picture a list of liabilities a mile long, vs. uncovering maybe one or at best two assets.

Inevitably, someone with a little more experience in recovery will join the conversation, sharing that Step Six is the real doozy. The process of uncovering character defects can be a true eye-opener. Again, for some, the fear (or perhaps reality) is that they will discover a host of character defects that have been motivating them throughout their lives. They wonder how on earth they are supposed to address a laundry list of these defects of character.

Up until very recently, I’d have accurately told you that I did not view any of the steps as any more or less challenging to face. They were, in my estimation, like steps taken to go upstairs in our home; each one requiring the same amount of effort as the last. Oh yeah, those were the days…

Lately, Step Eleven has challenged this way of thinking. There are a couple of things happening in my life that I really want to see changed. People who are sick and hurting, for whom I want to lift up fervent prayers for healing. Yet, when my nature tells me to, Step Eleven begins to echo in my mind. “…praying only for knowledge of His will for us, and the power to carry that out.”

Making things even more challenging, I come from a faith background in which prayer for God’s healing is not only accepted, it’s expected. I believe in this kind of prayer. In fact, I’ve even seen God move directly in a situation in which I was asked to lay my hand on the daughter of a friend, and pray for God’s miraculous intervention in a painful disease with which she had been diagnosed. That prayer was instantly answered in the lifting of the child’s pain, and a changed diagnosis a few days later by a doctor. A change the doctor could only describe as miraculous.

So, of course I want to pray that kind of prayer today. Who wouldn’t???

The problem is that, in my time of active addiction, the motive behind my prayers changed. So did my perception of God, and the way in which I related to Him. My prayers became self-centered. Most of them were what one would call “foxhole prayers.” I made so many empty promises to God. The kind that seemed so genuine, and yet were obviously beyond my capacity to keep.

Instead of any effort to seek God’s will, or viewing Him as sovereign over my life, I began treating God like my personal genie. I was not praying. I was making wishes. Demands even. “God, you owe me. Look at all I’ve done for you. The years I’ve tried to follow you. YOU OWE ME!” Of course, God owed me nothing, and refused to make me His puppeteer. So, when my demands were not met, I grew bitter and resentful.

The wisdom of the Eleventh Step is in the acknowledgement that as an addict, I have the tendency to try and use God in the same way I would use drugs. I want God to make me feel better about life. I want Him to take away any pain, whether emotional or physical. I want. I want. I want.

The trouble is that God plays such a vital role in my recovery. I cannot afford to risk forming resentments toward Him. If I do, I know I will be placing my recovery in jeopardy. “How can I believe God will help me to overcome my disease, if He won’t bring healing to the one I love and care about?” It’s a real dilemma. One that requires patience on my part.

So, instead of rushing headlong into praying according to my will, I have patiently prayed for God’s will. Instead of making demands of my magic genie, I have waited, seeking guidance from God for how I should pray. It is a faith-challenging process; waiting on God. Yet, it is a process with great reward.

God knows my heart’s desire. Praying in the way prescribed in Step Eleven makes me abundantly aware of this fact. He has shown me how to pray in this situation in a way that honors His will for my life. Prayers for healing that are not selfish, but rather selfless. Prayers that are motivated by faith and love rather than demands made out of anger or fear.

That is why Step Eleven has become the most difficult step for me. It’s because this step requires my patience. It also insists that I let go of any perceived control in the situation. I must pray out of love, kindness, and faith; and learning to do so takes time.

Thank you God, for teaching me how to pray. For the opportunity to truly seek your will in life, and to patiently wait for you to reveal that will to me.

Have a remarkable day!