Tradition #2

"For our group purpose there is but one ultimate authority — a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience. Our leaders are but trusted servants; they do not govern."

Can an atheist achieve sobriety? Short answer... yes.

I know several.

Granted, I believe it would be difficult. It was my belief in God that got me through those early days of sobriety; without that, I would have been forced to rely solely on my own inner strength to achieve sobriety. Since it was my lack of inner strength that got me here in the first place, relying on said nonexistent strength to overcome my addiction would have been a failing proposition.

That said, I am not an atheist and I have not had to walk this path, so it would be impossible for me to definitively answer the question.

If I had to answer, I'd say yes, it is possible... but a difficult road which I'd choose to avoid.

But hey, I am but a trusted servant.

I Surrender!

There’s a well-worn saying in the rooms: “Surrender doesn’t mean you’ve lost—it means you’ve joined the winning side.”

At its core, this Program is built on surrender.

Step 1: Admit we’re not in control.
Step 2: Recognize that something greater than ourselves can help.
Step 3: Hand over the wheel.
Steps 4 and 5: Take inventory and confess our flaws to that higher power.
Steps 6 and 7: Ask to be relieved of those defects.
And on it goes...

The Steps, the Serenity Prayer—everything in recovery hinges on the act of letting go.

And yet, for many, surrender is the hardest part. Relinquishing control to a force we can’t touch, see, or prove by conventional means, can feel like a monumental leap. Some are able to do it early—sometimes immediately. They surrender fully, and with that surrender, their obsession is lifted almost as if by miracle.

Others, like myself, fight it. We inch our way toward letting go, step by step, gradually peeling back the layers of control until, at last, we hand over what was never really ours to begin with. And just as gradually, the obsession begins to lift.

Then there are those who refuse altogether. They trudge the path with their baggage strapped tight, white-knuckling the process as they try to “think” their way to peace. The result is rarely sustainable. Without surrender, most relapse. Sooner or later, the burden becomes too heavy to carry alone.

Even now, I occasionally hear longtime members—ten, fifteen years into recovery—say, “I don’t believe in surrender. I believe in fighting.” And I can’t help but think, Wow. You’ve missed the point—not just of the Program, but of your relationship with God.

I don’t say that out loud, of course. What I actually say is, “Keep coming back.”

Because that’s what we do. We keep showing up. And maybe, with time, they’ll find the strength to lay it all down.

And join the winning side.