Conviction

If we pay attention, we will see pretty quickly that recovery is focused more on ourselves, our attitudes, our faith, our willingness and honesty than on our actual addictive behaviors.

When I landed in rehab, I was fairly convinced that if I flushed out all the substances, I’d be good to go.

What a shock it is when we find that once we are flushed out, we are more miserable than before. The joy of getting clean and honest, and the novelty of doing the first next right things is short lived.

The feeling that comes on the heels of initial sobriety was for me a combination of dread, anger, confusion and blindness.

Without an anchor to be tethered to, I was adrift with a ship load of emotions I’d rather not deal with.

As the tenants of recovery were explained and I began to open myself up to actually following directions, it became clear that the 12 steps are a way to misdirect my ingrained selfishness enough for God to come in and do some foundation work on my character and my heart.

The call for a moral inventory and a confession of shortcomings seemed steep. I was used to praying a bit to steady the boat when I’d gone off course. But willingness was described as indispensable so I went through the motions. Honestly, even—or with at least as much truth as I could muster at the time.

We can still lie to ourselves no matter how dry we are.

Interesting things happened. As I took stock of my shortcomings—my sins—and shared them with a friend, I touched on this ancient practice that seems only associated with the catholic church nowadays and which otherwise we’re content to either minimize or ignore outright.

But we are designed for relationship with each other and our Creator. We’re designed to purge the things that are holding us back from knowing others and Him better. And we are designed to do the same for others as well—encouraging and walking alongside them.

I don’t want to tell you about me until I experience the freedom of doing so.

God, convict me and give me a heart of forgiveness.