Between Points A and B, there is Recovery

I want this to be concurrent with where the program's lessons are right now, in January, and that's Step 1 and Principle 1.  I also know that when He gives me an idea, I just go, or I don't.  I'm going.  As a song says, You have called me deeper / And I will go where you will lead me...  

Please don't read my words and think I have all the answers.  Think of me as a fellow traveler on the road, happy to walk beside you and encourage with shared stories, dreams, and hopes.

This is about hope, and that is appropriate for the beginning.  It's preliminary to Step 1: not the realization of it, nor the conclusion, not the end of the race.  Hope.

The newcomer has it.  That's you, hopefully.  That's me when I admit a new struggle.  They/you might not realize it, but that's what gets you through our doors.  At the very beginning.  I have realized something about me.  I'm broken.  There's something wrong with me.

I can't fix it.

I've tried.  How I've tried!  How I have fought.  How I have struggled.  How I have sought to control what I do.  I can't do it.  I fail.  I've failed.  I can't fix me.  I am part of the problem.

At that point I see Recovery.  If that's Celebrate Recovery, great!  If that's not CR but some other set of initials, like SA, SAA, AA, NA, among others. I thank God you have found its doors, and I extend the invitation that you are welcome to add CR to your list of meetings.  Recovery happens on many levels and at your own speed.

I see Recovery.  I see a group that meets with the expectation and express purpose of getting well. Recovery is hope in disguise.  I see that others struggle.  Others fail.  Others keep coming back.  There are positive examples to offset my own negatives.

I go to a meeting.  Why?  Surely I am at wit's end.  I know I can't fix me, but I have hope.  I have a seed of hope, however small, that there is an answer, even if at this point it's beyond me.

It is beyond me.

I realize I'm not God.  I admit that I'm powerless to control my tendency to do the wrong thing and that my life is unmanageable.  (Principle 1)

My name is Joel.  I'm a grateful believer in our Lord, Jesus, the Christ.  I struggle with sex addiction and divorce.

But I have hope.  I haven't even fully internalized Celebrate Recovery's Principle 1 and everything it can and will mean in my life.

I will have many different hopes over the course of my recovery, over the rest of my life.  Some will be met during my life.  One will have to wait until after I die.  Another helps me focus on the kind of life and love and relationships I want to have.  All my hopes have to be surrendered, folded up in His arms and subject to His will.  

All hopes boil down to one quick geometric principle.  The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.  (Do we have Pythagoras to thank for that one?)  Well, it's true, and all Truth comes first from God.  I have Points A and B.  I'm at Point B, a state of loss, despair, grief.  A dwelling in the house of failure.  That's Point B.

Point A could be just about anywhere else, as long as it's a healthy place.  I'll try to keep it simple for my own sake.  Point B is who I am at the end of my rope, maybe even the end of my life if something doesn't change.  Point A is who I want to be.  I want to move toward Point A, so there's a journey to be taken.  For us, Recovery is that path, and believe me, it's the shortest distance between the two.

There is an old saying, The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. To make that first step requires hope.  I hope Point A exists.  I can't shift a muscle until I have that hope.  What's the point otherwise?

 I'm in the mud.  If there's no better place, I might as well wallow in it.  I'm that proverbial boy playing in the mud outside while there's a feast laid out in the palace.  The amusements I'm interested in as a boy are so small in comparison with what I can have as a mature man.  All mud eventually dries, and then I'm just dirty.  There's great joy in coming clean.  I dare myself to experience that.

As a song goes, We were meant to live for so much more.  As another song goes,  I dare you to move.

At the core of all this is the simple truth that of all of us humans, there is not one of us that is hopeless.  Not a single one.  We may abandon hope ourselves, we may wallow in mud outside the gates, we may dig holes for ourselves.  We may hold on so tightly to our own control that we can't grasp the rope offered to us.

My belief is that there is always a light that can never be extinguished.  I believe God made us with unquenchable hope.  We will always have the nagging thought that, as bad as things have gotten, there's a better place to go.  Have you felt that?  We may resist it.  We may bag it, lock it up, and bury it, shove it away somewhere.

We can't escape it. Why?

Because at the most basic level, the source of that hope comes from without us.  Our hope is anchored in the love that only Jesus has for us, a love that deems us worthy and balances us even though we can't do anything to tip the scales either way. 

Romans 5:5 says, "And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts..."  (Read 5:6-9 too, while you're there).  A love that we can't get rid of because it doesn't depend on us.  We are worthy of that love just because He says so.  Believe this.  He wants you.  You have worth to Him.

But you don't have to start there.  When the infinite is too much to consider, start small.  There's a better place to be.  There's a better person to become.  Shift a muscle.  Take a step.  I hope you will move.

Grateful Believer,

Joel T.