I’m taking a break from my series on feelings to post something I wrote a few years ago on the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter. It’s a lot longer than what I usually post and it may not speak to anyone but me.
I’m sitting at my normal spot for a Saturday morning. It’s my favorite coffee shop. Yesterday was Good Friday and tomorrow will be Easter Sunday and my thoughts today are tending towards the relationship I see between my views on recovery and the Easter season.
I attended the Good Friday service last night at the church I have been a member of for a little more than 10 years. That’s most of the time I’ve been on this recovery journey. Good Friday services in our tradition are somber events. They would most closely resemble a funeral service. The lights start out dimmed and get dimmer as the service progresses. The songs, the message, the prayers, everything focuses on the betrayal, the torture and the brutal death of an innocent man. I can’t help but question, how in the world could a group of people could choose to call this event “Good Friday”? I find everything about it heartbreaking and horrific. For most of the service I can’t help but cry. It’s funny, but I’m a lot quicker to cry since my recovery began. But I’m actually a much happier person in general.
My faith family believes that the all-powerful God chose to come to earth and experience life just like we do. The difference is he never got angry unjustly. He never mistreated, abused or shamed anyone. He treated all people equally. And he loved always, even while he was being abused and murdered. The craziest thing is, he did this because he knew we would never be able to live like that. I’ve never met anyone that wasn’t at least sometimes selfish, that didn’t occasionally get angry just because they were having a bad day, or every now and then want to punch somebody in the face just because it would make them feel better.
I would like to think that any time I’m around a really good person I feel motivated to be more like they are and sometimes it works that way. If I’m around a really good person for very long though I often find myself becoming angry with them. Their goodness makes my weaknesses and shortcomings a little more obvious to me. Kind of like when I buy a new set of white sheets and suddenly notice that my old sheets aren’t really white anymore. After this God man had spent 33 years here on earth the difference between his life and the lives of those around him who claimed to be good had really become evident, but instead of wanting to be more like him, they decided it would be easier to get rid of him so there wouldn’t be any more comparison. And they executed him.
That’s Good Friday in a nutshell. And if the story ended there it would be just a tragedy. But it didn’t and that’s why Easter Sunday is such a big deal. When I attend church tomorrow the atmosphere will be a total contrast to last night. My faith teaches that on the third day the God man, Jesus, rose from the grave. He conquered sin and death is the way they say it. And they tell me that he offers his strength to me so that I can experience that resurrection from sin and death too.
Now how does this Easter story relate to recovery? It was my experience that recovery didn’t begin for me until I had a near death experience. I didn’t get shot or hit by a car. I didn’t get murdered by the people around me, but my life as I knew it came crashing down. A lot of traditions call it hitting rock bottom. It’s a rare thing that I come across a person that didn’t have that near death, rock bottom, end of life as they knew it experience. Maybe it happened when a spouse or significant other told you this isn’t working. You’re out of control. Get out. Maybe it was a real near-death experience and your behavior put you in a hospital after a wreck or an overdose. In my case it happened when the police knocked on my door, lead me away in handcuffs and I didn’t get to come home again for 2 years. I had known that some things were out of control, but I had convinced myself that it wasn’t that bad. If I tried just a little harder, somehow, I could find the strength to make it work. That didn’t happen.
Suddenly I came face to face with just how powerless I really am. Step One.
I came to believe the story that I had heard every Easter Season since I was born. That the God man had come to earth to die and rise again to give me the strength I didn’t possess and that my life could be restored to sanity. Step Two.
I decided that my best thinking had screwed up my life and every relationship I ever had and that I would turn my will and life over to this God man. Step Three
I took an honest look at my life and my behavior. I saw the bad and the good. If either are neglected then it isn’t honest. Step Four
I admitted to God, myself and another human being the exact nature of my wrongs. This is something I had never done before. Why do I have to tell someone else? I still don’t understand it, but I know it must be done if I want freedom. Step Five
I became ready to have God remove all my defects even though I wasn’t sure there would be anything left. Step Six
I humbly asked God to remove all my shortcomings because I finally knew this wasn’t something I could do myself. Step Seven
I made a list of the people I had harmed and became willing to make amends to all of them. Some of the people on my list had harmed me and, in the beginning, willingness to make amends just wasn’t there. But, over time, it comes. Step Eight
I made amends to them when possible. Step Nine
This inventory has become an ongoing thing. When I’m wrong, I admit it. Life’s easier when I keep a short list. Step Ten
Through daily prayer and meditation, I continually seek to draw closer to God, trusting that His will is always better than my best thinking. Step Eleven
Today, life isn’t perfect, but it’s so much better than I could ever imagine just a few years ago. Anytime I have an opportunity, I share my hope and my experience with people I interact with. I recognize that it was others sharing their experience that gave me hope in the beginning that this might possibly work. Step Twelve.
So, for me, the Resurrection Story has become the most perfect illustration of my recovery. Tomorrow morning, I will celebrate with my faith family the event that I believe provides me with the power I could never have on my own to walk in newness of life.