I'm not going to present anything in this essay that's new or different than I've discussed before. I did get an epiphany at church today, though, that shed some light on the topic, at least for me. As always, I write in order to explore my own feelings, to give value and appreciation for revealed truth, to keep a record of my progress and to share my feelings with others.
Kim's been emphasizing simplicity at ARP lately. We have a friend who over analyzes, over compensates, over complicates everything. While addiction recovery is challenging, it is not rocket science. It is simple, at it's fundamentally effective core.
I learned the simple fundamentals as I was making my own beginnings on the road to recovery. Now I find that those fundamental principles apply not only to addiction recovery but to life in general.
Jesus teaches the principle: I can of myself do nothing: as I hear, I judge: and my judgment is just because I seek not mine own will , but the will of the Father which hath sent me. (John 5:30) Is that not powerful? Even Jesus of his own self could do nothing. His strength lay in doing the Father's will. The endowment ceremony in the Temple is clear, unmistakable evidence of this.
We have been taught, and have learned to stand on our own two feet. We think the initiative and direction in our lives must be our own. We think God gives us a rough outline and we need to flesh it out on our own, by ourselves. That was not true of Jesus; why should it be true of us?
"But wait!" we exclaim, "What about Doctrine and Covenants 58: 26-27?" I thought we were supposed to do many good things of our own free will and not have to be commanded in all things. That's true but being commanded and seeking God's will are not the same thing. Being commanded is a driven life. Seeking God's will is a guided life. Choosing a guided life amounts to doing many good things of your own free will. Seeking God's will is the imperative I'm focusing on today.
Early in my recovery I learned to pray a simple, but powerful prayer. "Lord, what would Thou have me do today? Please give me the strength to do it?" All my life my prayers were spent directing God around the heavens and the universe. As if I had the slightest clue what God should be doing. Now I was learning that I should not be seeking to counsel God, but to take counsel from his hand. (Jacob 4:10) The difference in the effectiveness of my prayers was astronomical. The reality of personal revelation, even to one such as I, was astounding. Prayer is all about personal revelation. It is no big deal to think that God could hear us when we pray. The big deal and the key to real prayer has everything to do with us hearing Him. Everything!
We may freely express our desires and as we gain experience with the will of God we may be more likely to anticipate God's will so that our desires are aligned with His will. As Jesus approached Lazarus' tomb he "lifted up his eyes and said, "Father, I thank thee that thou has heard me." (John 11:41) Clearly indicating that his desire had been to raise Lazarus from the dead and that He required God's endorsement before doing so. He sought the will of God, received it, and went forward with confidence, knowing Lazarus' revival was in such accord.
Now, how to apply all of this to my current situation. I'm unemployed and quickly running short of cash. Recently, I've reverted to my old ways. I know what I want - I want a nice high paying job. And, I've resorted to telling God what I want and expecting Him to deliver. Today I realized that I trust God. I know He is predisposed in my favor. I know He knows what's best for me. I know He even knows what my new employment will be. I also know He has work for me to do in the earth and that He is fully capable of opening the way for me to accomplish that work or stewardship. I know that He knows what I must do to arrive where He wants me to be. I know He will provide the resources to adequately fulfill my stewardship. (1 Nephi 3:7) But see, I haven't been asking Him the right questions. I've been telling Him what I want and asking for that. Instead, I should have been asking what He wants and asking directions to that end.
This method worked amazingly well in my recovery from addiction. Why will it not sustain me in every aspect of life? I'm certain it will. I just needed to make that connection, which God helped me do today.
I was so excited to get right home and get these ideas written. But there I go, off on my own again. Upon arriving home, though, I did think to pause and thank Him for this kind enlightenment. During that expression of gratitude, I paused to seek His will. His will was not to sit and write, it was to do the dishes. I was surprised. As it did the dishes I realized that beating Sweetie to the punch would brighten her day in a way that could not occur if I did them later after she had to consort with that mess for a while. It didn't take long, but it was correct in every way.
Also as I did the dishes and pondered the priority it might be, it occurred to me that this is how all of life could go. As I consider all of this a few things come to mind. Did Jesus carry a planner? No way. I'm convinced that He went forth into each new day excited for it's prospects and eager to learn what the Father had for him to accomplish. He may have had intentions, but most likely there were interruptions galore, surprises aplenty and constant opportunity to let the Father direct His paths and teach Him what to say and do. What a relief a life like that would be in my reality. Suddenly, the pressure is off! A guided life of right choices, how exciting. A blessed life of service doing the will of the Father. One of my first reactions was, "But I'll get so tired!" To which my heart responded. "God will direct you to rest, to eat right, to recreate - don't worry about it."
"But there is so much work to do!"
"And God will strengthen you for the work that is yours and direct others to do the work that is not."
"But what if others have expectations that God does not?"
"What if? Who are we trying to please here?"
"Oh, I'm beginning to see."
"Good, you're on the right track."
"But what if God doesn't have anything for me to do?"
"Then do nothing."
"Are you kidding?"
"Well, yes, there is plenty of work for you to do, but there is plenty of joy, and pleasure too!"
"Really?"
"Really."
"How will I know what He desires?"
"Ask, seek, knock."
"When?"
"Always."
"What about the future?"
"You'd rather not know, believe me."
"What must I do then."
"Just what I ask in this moment."
"What about the next moment?"
"Ask again. If you do God's will in each moment, the future will be prepared for you and you will be prepared for it."
"But what if I need an education?"
"Don't you get it? If you need an education, there will be a moment and in that you moment you will ask, and when you ask, God will answer: learn this, and your education will be realized."
"So I don't really need to plan?"
"Not really. God has a plan for you if you seek it."
"But, I thought..."
"You needed to trust in the arm of the flesh?"
"Yes, that's it isn't it. That's what I've been doing. That's why I've been worrying. I've been trusting in the arm of the flesh, haven't I?"
"Of course, it's natural."
"Funny."
"Who say's God has no sense of humor."
"Can I really do this?"
"You did today."
"That wasn't so hard."
"I doesn't have to be."
"What if I slip up?"
"When you slip up, stop, ask, listen, receive, do."
"But won't I need to repent?"
"When you listen, repent will probably be your answer."
"Oh, of course. My answer will always be just what I need to do in that moment."
"No more, no less."
"So simple!"
"So simple."
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Trust
I awoke this morning at four, sick to my stomach and longing for a fix. I was Jonesing. Longing for something to mask the pain for a while. Something to distract me from the fear and doubt.
Loathe to lose what duration of sobriety I've managed to accumulate, I wrote. Writing creates a pause between urges and actions. During that inky pause I can talk some sense to myself, feel some connection with God and offer myself some healthier alternative. These are times of self discovery, peace and revelation. Fortunate to have learned the efficacy of this method, I always turn to it to avoid the crash and burn that would be the inevitable other option.
Life causes pain. We get mistreated. We get hurt. We seek means of coping. It's like getting a broken leg in the wilderness. We splint it as best we can. We scrounge around and obtain something for a crutch and we hobble along hoping to get back to civilization and relief. We see fellow travelers with no crutch, who even hold our need for one in derision. We become disgusted with our need for a crutch so we throw it away. Of course with the next step comes a collapse, more pain, self pity, self disgust. We are falling behind. We must catch up, so we pick up the crutch again and hobble on. We might even seem to catch up. But then, time and again, we think we're better and tossing the crutch discover we just can't get along without it.
Eventually, we give up trying to keep up. There is nothing for it but to stop a while, attend to the wound and let it heal. Surprisingly, someone is willing to stay behind with us, or carry us along carefully enough to let us heal. Then at long last comes the glorious day when, healed, we get up and go forward pain free. No longer needing the crutch, we leave it behind without a thought.
Still, we are in the wilderness of life though. Still there is the threat of more injury. Still, if we let it, fear, can cause us to reach out for the security of that crutch. My leg is no longer broken. But in a fitful sleep I had imagined that it might soon be and I wanted my crutch. I had leaned on it for so long. It had learned to depend on it through so many miles of misery. It wasn't a comfortable old crutch, but it had been reliable. It was always there for me. I longed for my old crutch.
So, I write. I tell myself how glad I am to be free of the crutch. I remind myself how willingly God healed me. Me, an undeserving, rebellious, faithless addict, He healed. I show myself how disgusting that old crutch really was and how far back I'd have to go to get it. I persuade myself that fear must be dispensed with, replaced by love and trust.
Last night at recovery meeting another traveler reported of an enormous personal crisis she'd endured, how she'd overcome through prayer and carried on, rejoicing. She was shown that the larger the obstacle the greater the blessing.
As I wrote, God showed me the multitude of times He's been there for me. The many times He's helped me through. He helped me realize that I own nothing and that I've got to release my strangle hold of stuff. He encouraged me to step bravely into the darkness, trusting that enough would be revealed to keep my footing sure. I suspect if the light were actually cast upon my future I might fear it more than the darkness. "Nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted..." I feel it in my heart.
This little writing exercise is about putting God back in the driver's seat. It's about sitting comfortably beside Him without wishing I had my own steering wheel, parachute equipped ejection seat, or at the very least, a brake on my side like the Driver's Ed teacher used to have. It's about surrendering my will to His. It's about reminding myself that I trust Him. After all He has never let me down. It's about remembering that my sober life is every bit as miraculous as Peter walking on the water. And about remembering why I and Peter are able to do so. It is about realizing that I'm looking at the wind and the waves instead of at the Master of ocean and earth and skies. It's about trust, love, faith and obedience. It's about knowing why I chose to come here in the first place. It's about the risk and peril, but it's also about freedom to choose. It's about putting fear, doubt and Satan aside. It's about stepping back into the arms of His love.
And so, I remain sober for yet another day.....
Loathe to lose what duration of sobriety I've managed to accumulate, I wrote. Writing creates a pause between urges and actions. During that inky pause I can talk some sense to myself, feel some connection with God and offer myself some healthier alternative. These are times of self discovery, peace and revelation. Fortunate to have learned the efficacy of this method, I always turn to it to avoid the crash and burn that would be the inevitable other option.
Life causes pain. We get mistreated. We get hurt. We seek means of coping. It's like getting a broken leg in the wilderness. We splint it as best we can. We scrounge around and obtain something for a crutch and we hobble along hoping to get back to civilization and relief. We see fellow travelers with no crutch, who even hold our need for one in derision. We become disgusted with our need for a crutch so we throw it away. Of course with the next step comes a collapse, more pain, self pity, self disgust. We are falling behind. We must catch up, so we pick up the crutch again and hobble on. We might even seem to catch up. But then, time and again, we think we're better and tossing the crutch discover we just can't get along without it.
Eventually, we give up trying to keep up. There is nothing for it but to stop a while, attend to the wound and let it heal. Surprisingly, someone is willing to stay behind with us, or carry us along carefully enough to let us heal. Then at long last comes the glorious day when, healed, we get up and go forward pain free. No longer needing the crutch, we leave it behind without a thought.
Still, we are in the wilderness of life though. Still there is the threat of more injury. Still, if we let it, fear, can cause us to reach out for the security of that crutch. My leg is no longer broken. But in a fitful sleep I had imagined that it might soon be and I wanted my crutch. I had leaned on it for so long. It had learned to depend on it through so many miles of misery. It wasn't a comfortable old crutch, but it had been reliable. It was always there for me. I longed for my old crutch.
So, I write. I tell myself how glad I am to be free of the crutch. I remind myself how willingly God healed me. Me, an undeserving, rebellious, faithless addict, He healed. I show myself how disgusting that old crutch really was and how far back I'd have to go to get it. I persuade myself that fear must be dispensed with, replaced by love and trust.
Last night at recovery meeting another traveler reported of an enormous personal crisis she'd endured, how she'd overcome through prayer and carried on, rejoicing. She was shown that the larger the obstacle the greater the blessing.
As I wrote, God showed me the multitude of times He's been there for me. The many times He's helped me through. He helped me realize that I own nothing and that I've got to release my strangle hold of stuff. He encouraged me to step bravely into the darkness, trusting that enough would be revealed to keep my footing sure. I suspect if the light were actually cast upon my future I might fear it more than the darkness. "Nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted..." I feel it in my heart.
This little writing exercise is about putting God back in the driver's seat. It's about sitting comfortably beside Him without wishing I had my own steering wheel, parachute equipped ejection seat, or at the very least, a brake on my side like the Driver's Ed teacher used to have. It's about surrendering my will to His. It's about reminding myself that I trust Him. After all He has never let me down. It's about remembering that my sober life is every bit as miraculous as Peter walking on the water. And about remembering why I and Peter are able to do so. It is about realizing that I'm looking at the wind and the waves instead of at the Master of ocean and earth and skies. It's about trust, love, faith and obedience. It's about knowing why I chose to come here in the first place. It's about the risk and peril, but it's also about freedom to choose. It's about putting fear, doubt and Satan aside. It's about stepping back into the arms of His love.
And so, I remain sober for yet another day.....
Friday, July 24, 2009
Pioneer Day
I don't have many "pioneer" ancestors. Most of my stock came across the plains on a train.
Pioneers, by definition, break trail for the rest of us. I have read their stories and cannot begin to comprehend their faith, courage and determination. Not to mention their tenacity, resourcefulness, patience and persistence. As I drive around the valleys of the Inter Mountain West and see the little towns they built and observe the order they scratched out of the wilderness, I am utterly amazed.
This is hardscrabble country. Water is scarce. The toil and sacrifice that was applied to build homes, bring water to crops, establish roads, clear fields and build Temples is beyond my comprehension. We ride so easily, so unappreciatively down the roads they paved. In my own valley, I can't cross the canal without marveling at the monumental task it represents. As I kid I floated down it on inner tubes, took a weekly ditch full from it's generous banks to water pasture and garden, and never thought twice about the herculean effort it took the claw it out of the ground.
So it is with everything we enjoy. It came at a cost we cannot comprehend and we so easily take it for granted, hardly imagining the blessings we continue to enjoy at the hands of the Pioneers.
Years ago, in a far away land, I had an experience that forever changed my view of my connection with the Pioneers. It was in the Philippines. I was a traveling Elder just arriving, with my companion, Elder Justessen, on a ferry from Iloilo to the town of Batangas. As we walked out on the main street we saw a most surprising spectacle. Traffic had been stopped and a parade was in progress. It was a little parade; no more than twenty participants. There was a pretty big crowd watching though. I couldn't believe my eyes as I saw a little train of makeshift covered wagons and Mormon pioneers march by. It was the 24th of July! Tears rolled down my face as I gratefully watched these pioneers forge the way for the gospel in this bright new land. Joy filled my heart as I watched these sweet Filipino Saints lay claim to their Pioneer heritage.
No, they had no ancestors who walked across the plains either. But they belong to them just the same, as do we all.
I will always be grateful for the pioneers in my life. They have cleared the way for me in so many ways. Their blood may not flow in my veins, but they carry me on their shoulders and I carry them in my heart.
Pioneers, by definition, break trail for the rest of us. I have read their stories and cannot begin to comprehend their faith, courage and determination. Not to mention their tenacity, resourcefulness, patience and persistence. As I drive around the valleys of the Inter Mountain West and see the little towns they built and observe the order they scratched out of the wilderness, I am utterly amazed.
This is hardscrabble country. Water is scarce. The toil and sacrifice that was applied to build homes, bring water to crops, establish roads, clear fields and build Temples is beyond my comprehension. We ride so easily, so unappreciatively down the roads they paved. In my own valley, I can't cross the canal without marveling at the monumental task it represents. As I kid I floated down it on inner tubes, took a weekly ditch full from it's generous banks to water pasture and garden, and never thought twice about the herculean effort it took the claw it out of the ground.
So it is with everything we enjoy. It came at a cost we cannot comprehend and we so easily take it for granted, hardly imagining the blessings we continue to enjoy at the hands of the Pioneers.
Years ago, in a far away land, I had an experience that forever changed my view of my connection with the Pioneers. It was in the Philippines. I was a traveling Elder just arriving, with my companion, Elder Justessen, on a ferry from Iloilo to the town of Batangas. As we walked out on the main street we saw a most surprising spectacle. Traffic had been stopped and a parade was in progress. It was a little parade; no more than twenty participants. There was a pretty big crowd watching though. I couldn't believe my eyes as I saw a little train of makeshift covered wagons and Mormon pioneers march by. It was the 24th of July! Tears rolled down my face as I gratefully watched these pioneers forge the way for the gospel in this bright new land. Joy filled my heart as I watched these sweet Filipino Saints lay claim to their Pioneer heritage.
No, they had no ancestors who walked across the plains either. But they belong to them just the same, as do we all.
I will always be grateful for the pioneers in my life. They have cleared the way for me in so many ways. Their blood may not flow in my veins, but they carry me on their shoulders and I carry them in my heart.
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