I believe AA, NA, OA, GA, SA and all of the other “A's” arrived on this temporal coil via divine inspiration and intervention, to be sure, inspired by God. A glorious
introduction to a higher power for those who have no interest or belief in the Creator.
Unfortunately, many stop there. After turning to face God, many make no further movement toward Him (or Her, whichever you prefer). For them, sobriety presents only a brief spiritual solution, buried beneath stacks of disheartened confusion.
During my early recovery, I relished in anger toward God. Much to my dismay, a solid recovery program and the 12 steps dictated I make a conscious contact with God. Under protest, I begrudgingly renewed a cautious relationship with the Almighty. Little did I know, I had just enrolled in "Spiritual Kindergarten."
As mentioned before, I grew up in a religious household. I understood, all too well, the precepts of religious dogma. Years of Sunday School and Bible studies had instilled in me a deep-seeded comprehension of most theological principles. It also planted within me a fervent hatred for the hypocritical nature of organized denominational theocracy. At the age of 18, I fled from the church without temptation of ever looking back.
Nothing could have succeeded in dragging me back into a spiritual relationship with my Maker. Nothing, that is, but for the alarming jolt of a rock-bottom face plant. Thankfully, recovery didn't launch me into the spiritual deep-end out of the gate, or I would have spun into about-face and marched out the way I came in.
No, the program of recovery masterfully eased me into the shallow-end, one pinky-toe at a time. It did not force me to my knees in repentance or whisk me away to confession, rather, sobriety simply required a small amount of belief in something - anything. I could do that.
Spiritual baby steps inched me toward a growing relationship with God. Over time, my trust in Him developed and my faith blossomed.
Finally, graduation day arrived. God tapped my shoulder and said in no uncertain terms, "You've learned all this place has to teach. It's time for you to go home."
"Home?" I inquired. "What do you mean? This recovery hall is my home."
"No," he said. "This was only to be an orientation, a place for you to build a foundation for the remainder of your spiritual journey. Now I want you to go home."
"Fine. I'll start looking for a church-"
"Not just any church..." he interrupted. "I want you to go home."
Message delivered loud and clear. I didn't have to ask. To say I was unhappy about it would be an understatement, "Hold on, Lord. You want me to go back to my old church? No way! I'll go to another church, any other church, just don't make me go back there. Those people drove me away from you in the first place. I want nothing to do with those self-righteous, hypocritical, bigots!"
His response was brief and pointed, "I don't want you to follow my people, I want you to follow me."
All at once, I understood. I was never angry with God, but with the church. Those people, whom I had resented lo these many years, were just as flawed and pathetic as me. They held no sway over my spiritual prosperity. All that mattered was my personal walk with God. If I wanted to transcend, I had to obey.
One thing I knew for certain: God wants only the best for His children. So I trusted in Him, swallowed my pride, and went back. But why did it have to be that church? I uncovered the wisdom of His plan several years later when I landed my dream job as a direct result of returning to that particular fellowship. He knew the best path for me all along (naturally). In hindsight, graduating from my "spiritual kindergarten" into a higher level of theological understanding turned out to be the best decision I ever made.
Unfortunately, many stop there. After turning to face God, many make no further movement toward Him (or Her, whichever you prefer). For them, sobriety presents only a brief spiritual solution, buried beneath stacks of disheartened confusion.
During my early recovery, I relished in anger toward God. Much to my dismay, a solid recovery program and the 12 steps dictated I make a conscious contact with God. Under protest, I begrudgingly renewed a cautious relationship with the Almighty. Little did I know, I had just enrolled in "Spiritual Kindergarten."
As mentioned before, I grew up in a religious household. I understood, all too well, the precepts of religious dogma. Years of Sunday School and Bible studies had instilled in me a deep-seeded comprehension of most theological principles. It also planted within me a fervent hatred for the hypocritical nature of organized denominational theocracy. At the age of 18, I fled from the church without temptation of ever looking back.
Nothing could have succeeded in dragging me back into a spiritual relationship with my Maker. Nothing, that is, but for the alarming jolt of a rock-bottom face plant. Thankfully, recovery didn't launch me into the spiritual deep-end out of the gate, or I would have spun into about-face and marched out the way I came in.
No, the program of recovery masterfully eased me into the shallow-end, one pinky-toe at a time. It did not force me to my knees in repentance or whisk me away to confession, rather, sobriety simply required a small amount of belief in something - anything. I could do that.
Spiritual baby steps inched me toward a growing relationship with God. Over time, my trust in Him developed and my faith blossomed.
Finally, graduation day arrived. God tapped my shoulder and said in no uncertain terms, "You've learned all this place has to teach. It's time for you to go home."
"Home?" I inquired. "What do you mean? This recovery hall is my home."
"No," he said. "This was only to be an orientation, a place for you to build a foundation for the remainder of your spiritual journey. Now I want you to go home."
"Fine. I'll start looking for a church-"
"Not just any church..." he interrupted. "I want you to go home."
Message delivered loud and clear. I didn't have to ask. To say I was unhappy about it would be an understatement, "Hold on, Lord. You want me to go back to my old church? No way! I'll go to another church, any other church, just don't make me go back there. Those people drove me away from you in the first place. I want nothing to do with those self-righteous, hypocritical, bigots!"
His response was brief and pointed, "I don't want you to follow my people, I want you to follow me."
All at once, I understood. I was never angry with God, but with the church. Those people, whom I had resented lo these many years, were just as flawed and pathetic as me. They held no sway over my spiritual prosperity. All that mattered was my personal walk with God. If I wanted to transcend, I had to obey.
One thing I knew for certain: God wants only the best for His children. So I trusted in Him, swallowed my pride, and went back. But why did it have to be that church? I uncovered the wisdom of His plan several years later when I landed my dream job as a direct result of returning to that particular fellowship. He knew the best path for me all along (naturally). In hindsight, graduating from my "spiritual kindergarten" into a higher level of theological understanding turned out to be the best decision I ever made.
To be clear, I'm in NO WAY coming down on the spiritual relevance of recovery. I owe my life to AA and regularly attend meetings to this day. However, I came to understand that recovery, in and of itself, can never function as a sufficient proving ground for the endless advancement of spiritual growth. Supplemental fellowship is essential. You're either moving
toward God, or away from God. There's
no in-between.
You've earned your diploma. Now do yourself a favor and graduate to grade-school!
You've earned your diploma. Now do yourself a favor and graduate to grade-school!
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