Turning it over
I will not go into the intricacies of Narcotics Anonymous (NA), the spiritual 12–Step fellowship run by and for recovering addicts that I am a member of, but I would like to mention one of the Steps here. This is because taking this Step was the launching pad for my own recovery –
“We turned our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.”

It was not good enough to mutter these words with a pious inclination of the head – I had to mean it. And believe me – that was tough. No, let me correct myself – it is IMPOSSIBLE for an addict (or, I believe, anyone else) to turn his or her will and life over to anyone at all, especially an unseen Agency. It goes against the very grain of human self–sufficiency, because it relinquishes control. At best, I can turn over some unmanageable aspect of my life to Him –but the whole shebang? Forget it.

I had to undergo a process that starved my ego almost to death. And though a large chunk of it is alive and well even today, enough of it died to admit God into my life. The process involved the removal of every crutch that I had grown to depend on – personal freedom, a face–saving job, the survival of a doomed marriage, the fulfillment of my constant craving for attention and approval… the list goes on. One after the other, these were revealed to me as insubstantial straws.

This did not happen in an abstract way – I could relate actual, repeated instances in which I had to let them go. It took me a while to understand that I had inherent worth and value in God’s scheme of things. For a long time, this fact was just something I nodded my head to without actually comprehending it.

The scriptures
I was fortunate enough to receive a rather detailed, step–by–step induction into God’s Word. This was carried out by the director of the rehabilitation center, and at my request. She is a deep believer in God’s written Word, and I found her belief as infectious as that of my counselor. We eventually had some major fallings–out over matters of fanaticism and other religious extremes, but she showed me the beginning of the path.

It was a journey of discovery in which I was very glad to have a guide. I had read the Bible before, but without comprehension and with a lot of confusion. Had she and my counselor not been there for me at the times when my mind balked or seized shut at a hard scriptural truth, I would certainly have abandoned the whole thing. The mind of an addict is extremely limited in emotional range – in the initial stages of recovery, it does not include much more than guilt, resentment and defensiveness. In such a state of mind, reading books like Isaiah or Jeremiah can provoke some rather dramatic and inappropriate reactions.

Romans, she told me, is the perfect ‘Addict’s Bible’, and it did not take me long to appreciate her point. The book talks extensively about the turmoil of guilt and hopelessness that comes from temptation, and obsession with the deceptive pleasures of this world we live in. I am still fascinated with the timeless insight that Paul demonstrates on these subjects. His own admissions of vulnerability are in perfect accord with the NA principle of sharing one’s hurt, and the healing that comes from it. To this date, it remains my favorite book in the Bible.

Other books like Ezekiel and Revelation are still hard for me to swallow. I will confess here that they still come across like wild opium dreams to me (a frame of perspective that I have some experience with). This, I know, is because it’s still early days for me with my walk of faith. My comprehension of deeper scriptural intricacies has yet to evolve.

I have been accused of being simplistic in my approach to God’s Word. Maybe I am; but those who know me well will appreciate that this is actually a priceless compliment to pay to someone who has, in the not–so–distant past, majored in making things complicated for himself. I do know that most of what I understand from the Bible edifies and uplifts me, and that it speaks straight to my heart. By this, I do not mean that I’m comfortable with it all. More often that not, I’m confronted with some hard–hitting stuff that assumes different dimensions as my life situation changes. What I really mean is that nothing that makes me too comfortable could possibly have the power to change me.

What really matters is that Jesus Christ has become a very real and present Savior for me. Even my skeptic’s mind cannot refute or explain away as coincidence the wonderful miracle of recovery from addiction to drugs. I had tried everything before, and absolutely nothing lifted the obsession to use drugs for more than a few days. Getting down on my knees and confessing utter helplessness was the only thing I could finally do, and it was the only thing that worked.

I am, and will remain, forever grateful for what Christ has done for me. In every sense of the word, I have been given a second chance. I have been restored, and given a reason to live – to do God’s bidding to the best of my limited understanding and ability. That’s all He asks of me, and he has given me a new life in return.

I have a firm, personal belief in Jesus’ directive of not making a public spectacle of my faith and prayer life. It is alive and well behind closed doors, away from everything that distracts me from the time I spend alone with God – most especially prying eyes.