Recovery

Una Canción Nueva: Not Making it Worse

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

In October we remember Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I am reading and reflecting on both my experiences and the thoughts of others about domestic violence during this month. This action is important to me as a survivor of domestic violence.

Yesterday and two days ago I wrote about asking for help when demons from the past are haunting us. Yesterday I wrote and encouraged people who need help to ask for it. People of God, I encourage you not to make things worse by shaming people who need help.

I know that the Bible has a lot of things that revolve around community issues. Often, the things that the Bible addresses regarding community issues are beneficial to many people. The words of the gospel of Matthew, chapter 18, are amazing to many people. Sometimes the words can help with domestic violence issues, but when you don’t know the situation, the advice in that chapter can be dangerous.

It is possible that people who experience domestic violence may suffer or die when the abusers cannot hide in the shadows. Abusers may be kind to others and horrible to their victims. Although people may attend church, it is possible for those people to live in evil when in the shadows of ignorance.

When you don’t know what’s going on in a domestic violence survivor’s life, don’t shame people who ask for help. All people, regardless of gender identity, deserve to seek help and be believed. Some people may be liars, but when you don’t know, you don’t know and you don’t need to judge without understanding.

En Octubre recordamos el mes de concientización sobre la violencia doméstica. Estoy leyendo y reflexionando sobre ambas mis experiencias y los pensamientos de otra sobre violencia doméstica durante este mes. Esta acción es importante para mi como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica.

Ayer y hace dos días escribí acerca de pedir ayuda cuando los demonios del pasado nos están acosando. Ayer escribí y animé a las personas que necesitan ayuda a pedirla. Pueblo de Dios, los animo a no empeorar las cosas avergonzando a las personas que necesitan ayuda.

Sé que la Biblia tiene muchas cosas que giran en torno a problemas de la comunidad. A menudo, las cosas que la Biblia trata sobre problemas de la comunidad son beneficiosas para muchas personas. Las palabras del evangelio de Mateo, capítulo 18, son increíbles para muchas personas. A veces, las palabras pueden ayudar con los problemas de violencia doméstica, pero cuando no se conoce la situación, el consejo de ese capítulo puede ser peligroso.

Es posible que las personas que experiencia violencia doméstica puede dolor o morir cuando los abusadores no puede esconder en los sombras. Las personas que abusan puede ser genial a otras y horible a su victimas. Aunque las personas puede attender la iglesia, es posible esos personas vivir malveda cuando adentro los sombras de ignorencia.

Cuando no sabes qué está pasando en la vida de una sobreviviente de violencia doméstica, no avergüenzas a las personas que piden ayuda. Todas las personas, independientemente de su identidad de género, merecen buscar ayuda y que se les crea. Es posible que algunas personas sean mentirosas, pero cuando no sabes, no sabes y no necesitas juzgar sin comprender.

Una Canción Nueva: Letting Go (part two)

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

In October we remember Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I am reading and reflecting on both my experiences and the thoughts of others about domestic violence during this month. This action is important to me as a survivor of domestic violence.

Yesterday I wrote on my blog about trusting Jesus when demons from the past are knocking at the door of your heart. Today, I need to tell the truth about the reality of domestic violence. Sometimes, the Lord wants to help you seek freedom from domestic violence. Today, the Lord loves you and wants you to seek help with your problems. Even if you are scared and worried, the Lord loves you and wants you to ask for help.

It is terrible to suffer from domestic violence. Why do we believe the Lord does not want us to call 800-799-SAFE or visit thehotline.org when we need help? It is unbelievable that we believe the Lord does not love us and want us to seek help!

Yes, it is good for us to call upon the Lord when demons from the past are bothering us, especially when the demons from the past are in the past. When demons from the past are in the present, we call upon the Lord and we also call upon others to help us. Today, our Lord loves us and hears us. When we call upon others we may find new freedom. When we do not call upon others, we may find that the very demons we hate are here until we seek help.

En Octubre recordamos el mes de concientización sobre la violencia doméstica. Estoy leyendo y reflexionando sobre ambas mis experiencias y los pensamientos de otra sobre violencia doméstica durante este mes. Esta acción es importante para mi como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica.

Ayer escribí en mi blog acerca de confiar en Jesús cuando los demonios del pasado están llamando a la puerta de tu corazón. Hoy, necesito decir la verdad sobre la realidad de la violencia doméstica. A veces, el Señor quiere ayudarte a buscar la libertad de la violencia doméstica. Hoy, el Señor te ama y quiere que busques ayuda con tus problemas. Incluso si tiene miedo y está preocupado, el Señor se ama y desea que usted preguntar para ayudar.

Es terrible que sufrir de violencia doméstica. ¿Por qué creeimos el Señor no desea que llamar 800-799-SAFE o visitamos el sitio thehotline.org cuando neceisitamos ayudar? ¡Es incredible que creeimos el Señor no se ama y desea que buscar a ayudar!

Sí, es bueno que invoquemos al Señor cuando los demonios del pasado nos están molestando, especialmente cuando los demonios del pasado están en el pasado. Cuando los demonios del pasado están en el presente, invocamos al Señor y también invocamos a otros para que nos ayuden. Hoy, nuestro Señor nos ama y nos escucha. Cuando invocamos a otros podemos encontrar una nueva libertad. Cuando no invocamos a otros, podemos encontrar que los mismos demonios que odiamos están aquí hasta que buscamos ayudar.

Una Canción Nueva: Letting Go

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

In October we remember Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I am reading and reflecting on both my experiences and the thoughts of others about domestic violence during this month. This action is important to me as a survivor of domestic violence.

One day last week, I was having a conversation about the past. A person and I were talking about our fears and worries from the past. We wanted to live without our fears and worries, but the demons from the past wouldn’t let go. How frustrating!

It’s hard to let go of the past. Often, demons from the past come knocking at the door when it’s not good for our mental health. It’s like they have our mobile phone number and it’s not possible to turn it off. The phone sings and makes a disturbing noise when we just want to live in the present. It’s horrible!

In my recovery program we learn that we have to admit that we were powerless over our problems. We have to admit that our lives had become unmanageable. We didn’t believe that every problem needed God’s help, but there were some problems that we were powerless over. Sometimes our demons from the past are problems that we are powerless over. I see the same power in the demons of the past as I do in the horrible problems that I am powerless over.

In my past life, I had to decide to put my life in the Lord’s hands before seeking freedom and happiness. When I went to seek the Lord instead of struggling with my problems, I found new freedom and happiness. Today, why don’t I seek the Lord instead of struggling with the demons of the past? Jesus Christ descended into hell to save me. Why don’t I believe that Jesus can defeat my demons of the past even though I am powerless against them? Can I entrust these demons of the past to Jesus and walk away without becoming stuck?

En Octubre recordamos el mes de concientización sobre la violencia doméstica. Estoy leyendo y reflexionando sobre ambas mis experiencias y los pensamientos de otra sobre violencia doméstica durante este mes. Esta acción es importante para mi como un sobreviviente de violencia doméstica.

Un día de la semana pasada, estaba teniendo una conversación sobre el pasado. Una persona y yo hablamos sobre nuestros miedos y preocupaciones del pasado. Queríamos vivir sin nuestros miedos y preocupaciones, pero los demonios del pasado no lo salirnos. ¡Que frustrante!

Es difícil desprenderse del pasado. A menudo, los demonios del pasado llaman a la puerta cuando no es bueno para nuestra salud mental. Es como si tuvieran nuestro número de teléfono móvil y no fuera posible apagarlo. El teléfono canta y hace un ruido inquietante cuando solo queremos vivir el presente. ¡Es horrible!

En mi programa de recuperación aprendemos que tenemos que admitir que éramos impotentes ante nuestros problemas. Tenemos que admitir que nuestras vidas se habían vuelto ingobernables. No creíamos que todos los problemas necesitaban la ayuda de Dios, pero había algunos problemas ante los cuales éramos impotentes. A veces, nuestros demonios del pasado son problemas ante los cuales somos impotentes. Veo el mismo poder en los demonios del pasado que en los problemas horribles ante los cuales soy impotente.

En mi vida pasada, tuve que decidir poner mi vida en las manos del Señor antes de buscar la libertad y la felicidad. Cuando fui a buscar al Señor en lugar de luchar con mis problemas, encontré una nueva libertad y felicidad. Este dia, ¿por qué no busco al Señor en lugar de luchar con los demonios del pasado? Jesucristo descendió a los infiernos para salvarme. ¿Por qué no creo que Jesús puede vencer a mis demonios del pasado aunque yo sea impotente contra ellos? ¿Puedo confiarle a Jesús estos demonios del pasado y alejarme sin quedarme estancado?

Telling our Stories again (and again)

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“I’m convinced that they told this story about Peter because Peter himself insisted on telling it over and over again. It became so associated with Peter and his ministry that not to tell the story would have been a great disservice.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

I have become utterly convinced, like Rev. Hamilton, that the best stories I have ever shared have been stories of weakness on my own behalf. Two days ago, we shared the story about how the foolishness of God is greater than the wisdom of the world. I have to admit that my story is a foolish story.

I am a minister in recovery from alcoholism who is divorced. I struggle to communicate with my former partner and I rarely see my kids. I have a lot of struggles in my life and I am really open about all of them, but I don’t share because I want pity. I share because the stories show the Way I have found a path out of the darkness. The stories are an invitation to life.

How? Jesus works through my weakness. To borrow from the epistles, I have this treasure in a jar of clay. I share these stories because the power of God doesn’t come from me. It comes from God.

When I share communion I share about the unfermented fruit of the vine because everyone should come to the table. There is rarely a person who walks through the doors of our church who does not understand that God can and will heal them even from the hardest of situations. I have become an advocate for the addicted, the brokenhearted, the lonely, and the grieving. My strongest advocacy comes through sharing my story with all of the failures within it.

Peter knew what he was doing. I seek to do the same.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

Recovery and Struggles

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Before his conversion, St. Paul gained notoriety for harassing, arresting, and even stoning the followers of Jesus. He believed he was doing God’s work. Later the tables would be turned, and Paul himself would be harassed and ultimately put to death at the insistence of religious leaders. It was worshipers of the old Roman gods that cheered as the Christians were fed to the lions. But soon, Christian bishops were using the ‘keys to the Kingdom’ to anathematize and excommunicate those who didn’t conform to their understanding of the faith. Over the centuries it was religious leaders, or secular leaders appealing to the religiosity of their people, that led the Crusades, the Inquisition, the pogroms, the religious wars, burnings at the stake—all in the name of a crucified Messiah who called people to love their enemies.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton,“Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple

I often struggle with one reality of life as a believer in recovery. I don’t speak on behalf of any twelve-step group, including the one I self-identify as belonging to as a member. I even hesitate to identify the group, but I will state that I am far from the only alcoholic in recovery.

As a member of that group, I tend to regularly come across individuals who claim to have been harmed by the church. Listening to their stories, I can even identify with how the church could have very well harmed those people in those situations over the years. I might occasionally have come to another conclusion in their shoes, but those aren’t my shoes. I listen and think about their words carefully.

In those settings, I am not a defender of the church or the behavior of Christians, which makes me grateful as there are very few things more difficult than making an alcoholic see their side of things even after they enter into recovery. Allow me to take a moment to thank God for the fact that my sponsor still tries to help me see the light. One might say it is almost impossible to convince another person to look in the mirror when they are certain they have been done wrong by anyone or any institution.

It is with that perspective in mind that I have to acknowledge that the church has certainly done harm even as I also acknowledge that the church itself has faced harm from others. At this point in history, most of the Christians I personally know have always lived in either a Christian or post-Christian culture where they have been relatively safe. I have lived most of my life and ministry in a post-Christian culture while working with those who spent most of their lives in a fairly homogenous culture with a decidedly Christian flavor.

In public conversation, it rarely ends well to point out the fact that Christianity was once the underdog and that in some ways it is becoming more of an underdog. Christians still engage in crucifying others even as they claim victimhood. Are they victims? I am sure I am not qualified to be the judge of that situation.

Still, I can see the disconnect in perspective from my daily reality. Even as certain groups on the outside look at Christianity and see the big buildings and assume that they are full of militant and angry people like someone they met forty years, twenty years, five years, or even a week ago, it probably is an impossible task to convince them to see what I see. They see their pain and don’t see inside the sometimes empty buildings behind those doors. Few people realize how many churches are full of well-intentioned people who often want little more than to live life in peace, share their faith, and to get a call from their grandkids now and again. Few angry people realize that’s what is occasionally the situation behind those shiny doors and a few people who do are cheering that reality.

I know that it is often challenging to live as a person of faith in these days. Many of us who follow the crucified Messiah see the damage of the past even as we acknowledge that our own past has a history of struggle and pain. We acknowledge it even as we remember the promise made to us: we can follow if we take up our cross. If we have a certain mindset, which I do not generally own or like, we would point out that a mindset of a world in “total depravity” means that most, if not all of us, will suffer from the brokenness of humanity. Still, I don’t find that either theologically appealing or even helpful. It is easy to point out that that group did the harm instead of acknowledging the fact that we each, in recovery terms, have to mind our own side of the street.

This is a lengthy blog entry. In the end, I hope you find that it begins with an echo of the initial sentiment which I wrote very carefully.

We each come across places where we have seen other people hurt by and hurting others. In those moments, I find it best to listen and take note of where I might play a similar role in the lives of another person. If I am blessed, I can move on with a conscious decision to avoid perpetuating the cycle of harm. In the end, I can’t fix the pain caused by another person. I can work to be a different person who is seeking to be more and more like the Christ who refused to cast the first stone.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

Fear as the Gatekeeper

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Fear keeps some people in dead-end jobs and environments so miserable that they dread going to work—and yet they come back day after day because they are afraid to go into another field that would actually excite them. I’ve known people who stayed in abusive marriages because they were more afraid of venturing into the unknown than of staying with their abuser.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

Fear is sometimes the biggest gatekeeper to change. There are often other collaborating factors that keep us in our place, but fear itself can be the hardest obstacle to overcome. Rev. Hamilton writes about people who allow fear to keep them in abusive marriages in our chapter this week. He’s right.

I am in long-term recovery from a disease that I would likely have had resting in the background even if I never picked up a bottle. My mother was an alcoholic and I am one too. I often speak about how alcoholism is not a four-letter word and regularly point out how there is hope for people facing alcoholism both during communion services and throughout the week both at work and in my personal life.

I don’t often share openly about how strong a factor fear was in my own disease. I should have had both the education and the experience to know just how dangerous it was to mix alcohol with fear. It was easier to drink than to face the things I was afraid of doing. Standing up for myself, my children, and my future should have been a higher priority than escapism, but it wasn’t because I was afraid. I was afraid of my former partner, my district superintendent, and even the church leaders who really wanted what was best for me even when all I could hear was criticism. I was afraid.

After being called forward by Jesus, Simon Peter stepped out of the boat. He was able to take a few steps and live the kind of life many of us dream of experiencing. He didn’t run a marathon out on the waves, but he stepped further out into the unknown than any of the other disciples. He risked it all and found Jesus out on the waves.

On different seas, I risked it all. I could have scraped and cowered further, but I stood up for myself. I stood up for myself and said I didn’t want to be abused anymore. When my former partner responded to my asking for freedom by calling my District Superintendent and sharing my medical history without consent, I stood with my head tall in my conversation with my supervisor. I admitted I had a problem, had been working towards recovery for years, told her what I had been doing and what I was doing about it, and worked within the covenant community to find a way forward. I was honest with my SPRC and eventually spoke about my experiences openly from the pulpit. I risked stepping out into some pretty serious wind and waves in order to break the shackles of fear.

I don’t regret standing up for myself. In recovery circles, we talk about how we come to not regret the past nor wish to change it because the road we have walked down gives us the tools to help other people. The waves can be choppy and I have had to reach out a time or two, but I know one thing: I never want to feel the shackle of fear around my neck again. I would rather live in honest, open recovery than seek to hide my identity again. I’m grateful for the freedom that came from stumbling out of that boat.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

Jesus and the tiller

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“Jesus may not make the storm go away, as he did for Peter and the disciples. The cancer may still be there. The spouse may still be gone. But Jesus is riding it out with us, and somehow that makes the storm less terrifying. That is part of what the Christian’s spiritual life is about. Feeling Jesus’ presence with us enables us to be calmed, even if the storm is raging all around us.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

I grew up on Lake Erie, which is much larger than either the Sea of Galilee or the Lake of the Ozarks which Rev. Hamilton so often references in our chapter this week. My father owned a twenty-four-foot sailboat which, as we read, is about the length of the boats from the time of Jesus. We would sail regularly as children, especially after my mother passed away. Grief is a tough thing and my father did what he had to do to survive difficult days while coping with the loss of his wife.

In our chapter this week, Rev. Hamilton writes about how comforting it is to know that Jesus is there with us when the storms rise. It reminded me of a popular song about Jesus taking the wheel of life as we go down the road of life. It is a beautiful and catchy song, but it differs from my experience of things in recent years.

A few years ago my life fell apart. Within a year and a half a pandemic struck, my disease hit a critical point, what was left of my marriage disintegrated, and I became more of a thing than a person in my own home. I once was given the opportunity to have a say in my own life, but was treated like a wounded animal that needed to be put down instead of as a human being with rights and a family. It isn’t pretty to say, but it does help to point out and normalize the conversation that these things happen to people of every gender, age, educational level, and station in life.

To be honest, it would have been the perfect time to have Jesus take the wheel of life. The problem is that the wheels on the car kept driving straight towards oblivion. I wanted to let go: don’t answer the mail, don’t go to work, don’t answer the phone, and certainly don’t tell people what was happening in my life. If Jesus had the wheel then personal responsibility was meaningless. It would have been great to just let go, but what would happen if I didn’t do what needed to be done next? I would probably be dead from either a resurfacing of my disease that I had spent years seeking to overcome or from being thrown out of my home for not doing the work I am called to do with my life.

As a kid on that boat, I was once going out with my father into a storm to ride on the winds and waves. We were going to go bow-first into the waves so that the winds wouldn’t toss us off course. My father went below deck for maybe five seconds. I moved the tiller a little to one side and we nearly capsized. In a moment the already frightening situation went from scary to terrifying. I thought we were going to die. To be honest, it is impressive that nobody was hurt or killed.

It is dangerous to let go of the tiller or to treat it as anything less than a critical piece of machinery upon which your life can depend. It is equally dangerous to just let go of the wheel and hope it will point down the road.

For me, one of the most important things in this chapter is the fact that Rev. Hamilton points out that Jesus is in the boat with us in the middle of the storms of life. Jesus’ presence does not mean that the storms will always cease or that there won’t be moments of chaotic fear, but it does give us the hope that we are not alone. Even as we gingerly hold the tiller, we do not need to face the storms alone.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

Regularly Reluctant

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“There are times when Jesus asks us to do things that we don’t want to do, when we feel tired, or when what we’re being asked to do seems to make no sense to us. I have, on many occasions, been a very reluctant disciple. For us, the deep water is the place where Jesus calls us to go when we’d rather stay on the shore. We feel Christ calling and we drag our feet, and sometimes we even say no.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

There’s an old story that has been going around for what seems to be as long as I have been a Christian. The story is often called “Footprints in the Sand.” It tells the story of Jesus looking back over the life of someone as she notes that there are two sets of footprints on the beach of life. Sometimes the two are there together, side by side. Sometimes one set walks alone.

The faithful woman looks to Jesus with disappointment and talks about how sad it was to walk alone through the dark times. To her surprise, Jesus gently tells her that she is mistaken. Where there are only two feet walking in the sand, it isn’t that God was absent in such moments. Instead, those were the moments where Jesus was carrying her.

My favorite versions of the story then have the woman asking about the places where there is one set of footprints and two long ditches. Sometimes, she dug in her heels and had to be pulled along. In the really amusing versions, Jesus then goes on to explain the trails of fingerprints desperately clawing into the earth.

Do I identify with Rev. Hamilton saying that there are moments where we sometimes selectively listen, drag our feet, or even say no to God’s call on our lives? Yes. I will admit that I have had moments where I selectively listened, drug my own feet, and even said no with a stamping foot. Was that healthy? Generally not, but the past is what it is and there’s no going back to change things.

Sometimes I have absolutely said no to what God had for me. For years I refused to talk about my experiences, refused to ask for help, and even turned away the people who expressed concern about the ways I was dealing with my stress. To use recovery language, I was building up resentments and using tools to deal with problems that would eventually become problems as big as the original challenges. Instead of saying yes to God and yes to others, I determinedly and pig-headedly stuck to my plan. I didn’t need help, I didn’t need assistance, and I didn’t need anyone to advocate for me.

I was stubborn as a mule and was treated like one as a result of my own choices. Instead of saying no and asking for help, I become more and more entangled with my own pride. Hear me clearly: even when other issues raged, my pride was debilitating. Was Jesus there at my side offering help? Yes. Could I have asked for help at any time? Yes. Could I have even listened when people asked why I was being verbally assaulted in a gas station in front of church members by my partner? Yes. Did I do such things? No. I refused to go out into the water. I refused to let down my nets. I refused to ask for help and I continue to pay the consequences for not calling for help when violence entered my life by my own choices.

Here is some good news. I don’t have to be pig-headed today. I can choose to love someone who loves me back, choose to offer her my best while offering her the ability to set her own boundaries, and I can set my own boundaries and expect her to honor them. I can not only recover from that side of things, but I can ask her to support me as I recover from my disease. How wonderful is it when a relationship is healthy enough that the boundaries and enouragements become a given when neither person wants to hurt the other one?

Friends, you can go into the deep waters and let down the nets. You can recover even if you struggle with substance abuse and/or domestic violence. You can find community to love you and support you both within church doors and within twelve-step groups. You can let the nets down when God asks you to set out into deep waters.

Will it be easy? Maybe not. Will you be reluctant? I once was. Will it be better even when all of the comfortable things that go with the bad things go away? Someday, yes, but it takes time. There is hope and you don’t have to do things alone.

Our church is offering a short-term Bible study for the season of Lent. While many studies for the season traditionally focus on spiritual practices or on the stories of holy week, this year we are reading “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple” by Rev. Adam Hamilton. The idea of the study is that we might consider how we follow Christ in our lives while considering the life of this flawed follower. These blog posts are designed with a principle I have learned from recovery work: “We identify with the stories of others and try not to contrast.” We grow more and live with greater serenity when we look for what we share in common with someone with whom we might otherwise disagree.

Different ways of walking

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

“There is no one exclusive ‘way’ either to the supreme realities or to the loftiest experiences of life. The ‘way’ which we individuals select and proclaim as the only highway of the soul back to its true home turns out to be a revelation of our own private selves fully as much as it is a revelation of a via sacra to the one goal of all human striving. Life is a very rich and complex affair and it forever floods over and inundates any feature which we pick out as essential or as pivotal to its consummation. God so completely overarches all that is and He is so genuinely the fulfillment of all which appears incomplete and potential that we cannot conceivably insist that there shall be only one way of approach from the multiplicity of the life which we know to the infinite Being whom we seek.”

Quaker Scholar Rufus Jones, “The Inner Life” (1916)

I took a day trip with someone very close to me yesterday to the Zoo. I shared my love of trying to eat slippery Chinese food with chopsticks on the way up to Syracuse and we enjoyed a fish fry on the way back. We had lots of time to talk, to ponder life, and to enjoy the animals. It is amazing how much fun it can be to go to the zoo even when you’re not pursuing a small child. We finished the night decorating the Christmas tree I have not put up since 2020.

Towards the end of the evening, we were talking about some of the challenges that come with trying to recover from a divorce. Both of us have had difficult circumstances in our lives and we both have things we did similarly and things we have done differently.

For me, a lot of the journey has revolved around physical ways of pursuing wellness. Recovery from the trauma that led to my divorce included a lot of physical wellness activities as I tried to respond to the stress, fears, and painful sorrows by doing the next right thing in my life. I reinforced my sobriety practices by sticking close to people who had been through difficult times in their programs, worked the twelve steps, and continued to regularly go the therapy and my doctor to make certain everything in the background was running well so I wouldn’t trip over inconsistencies within my own body and mind.

Beyond sobriety, I adopted old spiritual practices that were impractical with kids around to complicate certain activities. I’m pescatarian on Wednesdays and Fridays as a partial fast in the pattern of the Orthodox and in the pattern of early Methodists of fasting on those days. I write out my gratitudes every night and effectively do a version of the Examen blended with a tenth-step inventory. I journal every day.

Also, I walked thousands of miles and began to work my muscles by weightlifting. I dropped over 160 pounds so far! I took my sorrow and I put it in the furnace. I walked through sleet and snow burning through my anger like coal. I did everything I could to take the broken sorrowful parts and to use them as fuel for a self-improving fire to forge a new self instead of turning that anger and sorrow on anyone else, especially avoiding bringing that frustration anywhere near my former partner. There’s a reason there are giant holes in my blog and why I’m not on social media. Heck, I avoid emails in part because it is too easy to let my anger out.

I have done all of these things and I am grateful for all of them. Also, the person I spent time with yesterday did things very differently than me. They handled their sorrow for a longer time and have used their experiences to forge someone I hold dear without some of the tools I have used. Their circumstances were different but similar. As a result of some of those variations, our paths look different and honestly, there are some ways in which the other path looks great. That path looks fantastic when you see what’s beyond the surface of the cheerful things I wrote above.

My shoulders hurt constantly. My body dysmorphia makes it feel like I’m larger than I am and sometimes I reach up to my shoulders and it feels like the bones just beneath my skin shouldn’t be there. It feels like I’m more skeleton than man some days. I sometimes feel incredibly self-conscious and even my muscles aren’t enough to sometimes make me feel safe. Those great phone calls and good friendships in my life are the converse of the grief which threatened to bust down the door if I didn’t get out there and connect with others. It has not been easy.

Sitting with someone who has been through similar things yesterday I heard an invitation to not only be vulnerable but to tell the truth about the fact that my bones ache, my shoulders are sore, and my back is so tight it feels like I have two plates of armor between my shoulder blades and my hips. A lot of things hurt and sometimes it feels as if the pain will never cease.

I have worked so hard to carve my way out of my sorrows and it has been wonderful in so many ways. It also is not the only way forward. I can live a life where my bones hurt less and my shoulders ache less constantly. As a new year dawns, I can set a different goal for something gentler on my body like swimming or rowing. I am not forced to walk this one way. My friend has a different path and their way is worthy of emulating in many ways. Perhaps I need to be slow enough to see where the path diverts and runs slightly askew in the same direction.

An Aside about Alcoholism and Zoom Bombing

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

You know, I don’t talk a lot about what happens in my program of recovery. I put in work daily and that’s really all I want to say. If you want to know more, I ordinarily invite people to go to an open meeting of a twelve step recovery program and learn more for themselves.

That being said, I get tired of people thinking they’re funny or cool and Zoom Bombing meetings. A lot of people in the rooms are in a lot of pain. Some have lost everything, others are in grief, and others are just doing their best to fulfill their twelfth step obligation to pass along what they’ve learned to others. There are tons of people in a lot of different vulnerable positions.

It isn’t okay to come into the rooms and tell people to kill themselves. It just isn’t acceptable to do your best to knock down people who are already hurting. It is awful and if you think it is funny, it really isn’t. You could kill someone by putting your hatred into the head of someone who is suffering from a disease which is related to choice but is not wholly a condition of volition.

As an aside to an aside, be nice to people in recovery if you’re a “normie.” You wouldn’t believe the stuff people throw at alcoholics for trying to recover.

Keeping Perspective

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

This afternoon I had the joy of spending time with a former seminary classmate and his daughter over a cup of coffee. One of the largest struggles I have had to face while in recovery from both alcoholism and domestic violence has been the message that was handed to me by both my culture and my partner.

My culture taught me from an early age that alcoholics looked a certain way and were untrustworthy. I was not told that they had a disease with real physical roots. I was told that alcoholics drank out of paper bags under bridges or in book clubs depending on how much money was in their bank account. I was never given the perspective that an alcoholic was someone who could recover with support, care, and love. When I realized I had a problem with alcohol, I immediately was ashamed of who I was as a person despite the fact that I am a human being with a disease that was quite treatable and was not a one-way ticket to a lifestyle under a bridge.

My partner taught me through her actions and words that I wasn’t worthy of any better treatment than how society treated alcoholics. I was told multiple times that I was not good enough, was worthless, was inadequate, and told me, “God must love you because nobody else does.” Even though she is gone, I can still hear the exact inflection of and scorn in her voice as she cast such judgments over me and my value.

Do you know what my friend from seminary told me today? When my partner left, there was joyful cheering (along with the tears on the other end of the state). To be clear, they didn’t cheer because I was hurt. They were thankful that I was free from a sick and desperate situation that they saw coming years before I began to recognize what was happening. They believed in me, cared about me, and he went out of the way with his daughter to come and see me because I matter to them, which they did with the full and enthusiastic support of his wife (who is also my friend).

I often forget the simple truths my friend reminded me of this afternoon. I didn’t lose value because I became sick: I became a person in need of healing and support. I didn’t lose value because someone tore me to shreds: I just needed to look for value in people who believed in me, cared for me, and loved me as a friend and person. Now that the shackles are breaking, I can choose to keep investing in healthy relationships even as I continue to seek my freedom from the person who tore me down.

It is easy to forget how much we matter, especially if we are recovering from domestic abuse or an addiction. It is easy to forget that there may be people who love us and support us in spite of what others have said about us or done to us. Yes, God loves us: there may be people who love us as well.

If you’re recovering from abuse or addiction, may I invite you to believe that you have value? Although it is close to the end, may I suggest that a good thing to remember during National Suicide Prevention Week (which is also part of National Suicide Prevention Month, which is halfway to completion) is that you have value? As much as the tagline this month is about Domestic Violence, allow me to point out that in the United States you can dial 988 to reach someone who can support you if you are feeling suicidal. No matter what others may have told you, your life matters and I hope you stick around.

October has been Domestic Violence Awareness month since it was first introduced by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence in 1981. Regardless of the month, domestic violence is never okay, no matter the circumstances. If you or someone you know is in desperate need of help, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 or TTY 1−800−787−3224.

“Celebration” and Sobriety

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

Our devotional points out hard words from Christ today. In the New Revised Standard Version, Luke 5:39-40 says: “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf. Yet you refuse to come to me to have life.”

Throughout the season of Lent, Sundays are “mini-Easters.” Traditionally, Sundays are moments of celebration in the midst of a somber season. The #RethinkChurch Lenten Photo-A-Day prompt acknowledges this by having every Sunday until Easter be the same theme: “Celebrate.”

Even with that prompt for celebration, I feel called to celebrate out of a place of testimony today. My photo is of a flower that was blooming in the nearby Henry Smith Woods in the heart of Trumansburg. It was one of the first flowers of the season and I found it to be beautiful both in its vibrance and in the way it has a wonderful blossom that reminds me of the Trinity. What minister wouldn’t love a flower with three petals on one blossom? Well, one who doesn’t enjoy oversimplification, but it is still quite a flower!

So, what does the scripture bring to mind today? It reminds me of the fact that I am in recovery and that recovery has been a challenging road.

A few years ago I had the bright idea of running on an elliptical everyday as a fundraiser for the church. It was going wonderfully until one day I had the audacity of trying to pull up my pants after running too hard. A trip to Urgent Care, multiple visits to my doctor, and months of physical therapy followed.

I am the child of an alcoholic. I have had a gastric bypass surgery which means that once something goes down my throat it doesn’t come back out, Both of these are reasons I should never drink. I was so desperate to get rid of the pain that late one night I tried mixing alcohol with my medication to make the pain go away. It worked for a while, I got in a habit of soothing the pain until that soothing didn’t work anymore. Like many people who have been ensnared over the years, I drank to get rid of one problem and found a lot more waiting for me including the very thing that once “helped.”

The first step of Alcoholics Anonymous is to admit that life has become unmanageable and that you are powerless over alcohol. My goodness, things grew out of hand quickly. Things kept getting worse until the day that I, as a minister who had helped others to do this very thing, had to hit my knees in prayer. I came to a point where I had to tell God that I had not only made a stupid mistake but that I needed help to get out of my brokenness.

“Pastor Rob, didn’t you realize what was happening?” No. I just wanted the pain gone. “Pastor Rob, were you helping other people deal with literally the same issue while you were struggling?” Yes, but this physician couldn’t heal himself. “Pastor Rob, do you feel ashamed about the fact that you did something so stupid?” Yes, although I have come to realize that there were bigger things going on than just that one mistake. My life was unmanageable for a number of reasons, none of which are unique to me. There are ministers who become addicted and there are ministers with family problems. I’m not unique in either of those things.

The words of Jesus still strike me hard: “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf. Yet you refuse to come to me to have life.” For so long I believed in Jesus, sought through the scriptures, and even shared the testimony while refusing to come to Christ in this one area of my life. I chose secrecy instead of honesty, hiding brokenness instead of admitting struggles, and even offered hope while refusing to accept it for my own brokenness.

The flower I share is like me today. I am watching my petals spread every single day, have new growth reaching out after years of dormancy brought about by fear, and have even started making new friendships after a long period of feeling as if I did not deserve something as simple as friendship without my family’s approval. I used to feel as if my heart was locked in a cage like a silent bluebird but am increasingly feeling like I am rising on the wings of a phoenix.

Even if you have had moments when you have refused God’s love and help, it is not too late. Friends, trust me when I say that God loves you deeply and truly. If you need help, there’s help out there. There are places where you can walk through the door and they won’t judge you for needing help. A lot of them are filled with wonderful people who will bend over backwards to make you feel welcome and help you get your life back in order. Don’t hide in the shadows: the light is okay.

There is a way to freedom. It may not be easy, you may stumble, and you may want to give up sometimes. Don’t give up. You can find freedom with help. Don’t give up.

The Calling and a Personal Journey

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There’s a long gap in my blog between the events of the past and the events of the present. A lot happened between those last poems from a while back and the poems of today. I have been on a journey of discovery as my wife separated from me as I came to grips with the fact that my marriage was at an end.

There were a lot of missing poems that were shared between shed tears. Like sand mandalas, those poems were here for a moment and then gone. In many ways those poems blurred the lines between prayer and poetry even more than usual. There were moments of grief, anxiety, and loss.

Over those months of quiet self-reflection and work I came to a point where I finally publicly admitted that I am in recovery from alcoholism which did not begin in the last year or during that silence. I have been open about my family’s history with alcoholism, but had never shared the stories with anyone of how I used alcohol to supplement pain medication during a lengthy period of severe pain and physical therapy where I could barely walk or even sit still from the pain. I didn’t have the life wisdom to realize that I should have gone to a doctor instead of self-medicate on top of prescription medication. That decision was dangerous and doubly-dangerous as my family has a history of addiction. It was foolish.

I have had to come to grips with what part of my life had been shredded by alcoholism, realized that there were problems that had had nothing to do with alcoholism in my relationship, and I have realized that I kept medicating pain of a different kind even after my back healed. I have come to understand that this is a season where I need to be faithful to my identity as a single man who still wants to be a good father, wants a respectful relationship with his former partner, and who wants to find a way forward while choosing both life and the high road through some very dark passes in spite of the choices of others.

One of the most difficult conversations I had during that dark period was a long conversation with my District Superintendent where I shared openly and honestly about the journey I have been on. I shared that I still felt called to the ministry, still felt the Holy Spirit at work, and shared about the journey of recovery which has included working with professionals and a particular anonymous organization to connect all the aspects of my journey into one way forward. I have put in a lot of work medically, psychologically, and spiritually over a period of years to come to this place where I am beginning to see the light of freedom in recovery. I have put in hundreds if not thousands of hours into seeking freedom from the consequences of my biology, choices, and a disease that is not infectious certainly seems communicable.

I share this now as I was just blown away by a passage I read while preparing for my sermon this Sunday. I was working through the commentary of Ronald Clements in the Jeremiah entry to the “Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching” Series published by John Knox Press. On page 16, Clements writes of Jeremiah:

“The sense of call, with all that this meant by way of reliance upon God and the stripping away of all other social and personal supports, was something that was taking shape over a long and difficult period of time. It had begun for Jeremiah at a specific moment in his personal life and had continued. The experience of inner self-discovery had not ceased since that first day. The sense of call belong too to his private inner world as a part of his personal understanding of God. Yet it had to be a public and openly declared part of his self-understanding, since it alone could explain his declarations and his personal authority to declare them. No one could confirm or deny that he possessed this calling; it was between himself and God.”

Clements, Ronald E. Jeremiah. John Knox Press, 2012.

I was blown away by this passage. While reading this commentary, I connected deeply and intimately with Jeremiah in a way that I have never connected before this moment. Certainly, I am not the first pastor to sigh over the direction of American Christianity. I can connect the dots between the political and social forces of Judah in Jeremiah’s day and the the political and social forces in modern American religion. I am not the first pastor to wonder if the rhetoric and posturing of many modern church leaders on television is not the gasp of a system that is about to go into exile. This is not where I felt a connection.

I felt a connection as I remember my past. I remember being a teenager who felt called away from a suicidal grief into the love of God. I remember talking with a youth leader about how I wanted to go into ministry because it was tugging at a deep part of me. I remember being a youth leader and a church intern who just kept feeling the compulsion to go deeper. I remember studying and taking the first steps into ministry. I remember the interviews, the affirmations, and the ordination. I remember all of those moments.

I also remember praying with trusted friends in Malvern, PA, at the Academy of Spiritual Formation as I admitted that I was occasionally mixing drugs and alcohol to get through the pain. I remember talking with close friends about how it felt less and less like a choice. I remember asking them to pray for me as I started trying to get free of that compulsion to drink. I remember being dry and miserable on my own without a single supportive voice. I remember the first time I said: “Hi, my name is Rob and I’m an alcoholic.” I also remember that it took a few attempts to find the courage to say those words. I remember meeting with a sponsor for the first time and sharing stories. I remember the anxiety and fear. I remember the first time I worked through my fear and clearly stated aloud why I always note that we serve non-alcoholic juice when serving communion: I say it because of people in recovery like me.

I remember talking with Pastor Parish Relations Members at my church about the fact that my wife and I were separating and how it partially related back to my own journey of recovery. I remember sharing that I had a relapse and that I had climbed back on the wagon quickly because I was afraid. I remember crying with fear about being honest. I remember how freeing it was to tell people that I attend meetings daily via Zoom to continue to seek freedom. I also know that I have both amends and living amends to make with people I have harmed along the way. I remember almost every conversation with someone I have known for a long time where I have said something along the lines of: “I’ve had to come to grips with something.”

Through all of these things I have never felt my call to leadership ebb. In fact, I have had many people open up about their own struggles and the struggles of others. I have talked with wandering folks who come to my church each time they are in the area because the pastor not only understands the journey towards sobriety but is walking down that same road. I share a cup of coffee with them after church not out of sympathy but out of true camraderie as a sojourner down a similar road. I have even performed funerals for people who have and have not found a way to freedom on that same road. I feel like I am a better minister since I have found the courage to be honest about my alcoholism. Honestly, I feel more hampered by the pain of marital and parental separation than the daily journey of recovery.

At some point I hope I will get to the point where I share with others in those meetings that I’m not only an alcoholic but a pastor. Honestly, that’s almost more scary than sharing with the church that I have a struggle with addiction. According to one study published last year, the national average of drinks consumed in the United States was 17 per week (Survey: Americans consumed 17 alcoholic drinks per week in 2020). It seems less strange to admit that I am just another person struggling with the disease of alcoholism that has been on the rise over the course of the pandemic than to admit to other people that I have a very very close relationship with “the God of my understanding,” especially if that means they might share less freely about their own journey and struggles.

In the meantime, I do feel called to continue in ministry quite strongly. Clements indicates of Jeremiah, the calling that Jeremiah experiences was one that nobody could confirm or deny from the outside. I identify with that description of the calling deeply. The calling is first and foremost internal.

Surely, I could be reappointed or even stripped of a title, but that’s different from having the authority to confirm or deny a calling. As the Bishop said at my ordination, ordination was a recognition of what God has done and what God is doing in my life. Ordination was an affirmation of what God was doing and recognition that God was at work in a special way. That journey has not changed and that calling has never ceased. It still burns deeply within me.

I wish I could put into words how strange it is to be called to leadership and authority while daily admitting that I am powerless to straighten things out on my own. The power was never mine, but it often feels easy to assume I am more powerful than I am, which many of my colleagues likely understand. I personally have come to believe it makes me a better leader as I am quite clear on the fact that the power I hold and wield as a minister does comes from God and not from my own strength.

So that’s the story of the long absence between posts. Yes, I am in recovery. No, I’m not ashamed of admitting my need for God to work in my life every day through the process. Yes, I am allergic to alcohol and I have a disease. No, having a disease is not the end of the world. This disease is a disease and not some moral failing or mark of worthlessness. Good people that I have come to trust tell me that there is a solution and I believe that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Truly, I live each day with hope and courage that comes from being on my knees and asking for help each time I wake up in the morning to the snuffling sounds of a dog and each night that I go to sleep alone. God is with me on this journey and that journey will continue 24 hours at a time for the rest of my life. I am okay with that journey and I will keep walking.