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Let me just say right off the top today that I still haven’t figured out the whole God thing. I just know that I need to keep seeking, and to be open-minded. I have what I think is a pretty strong higher power that works for me in sobriety, which is a key part of the recovery process.
But I did want to talk about a God-related topic, not as an expert but as someone who has trudged the same path that so many people do—how do you go from atheist to agnostic, and maybe even beyond agnostic and into a deep spirituality or religious belief?
I’m thinking about this topic a lot this week because I read We Agnostics at a meeting last week, and there’s a section in it that discusses how often many of us have had a God without even knowing it. The specific section is on Page 54 in the second paragraph, where it mentions that many of us have worshipped lots of stuff over the years.
Think about what your definition of a God is. Mine is roughly this: something I rely upon, something I center my life around, something that I worship, something that goes beyond logic into the mysterious realm of the mind and heart. When I first got sober, I told a friend in recovery that I didn’t see myself ever being a God person because I had never been before, and he calmly laid out the case for how many things I have worshipped in my life with complete abandon.
He was right. When I applied my definition to my own life, I realized I have had roughly, oh, 600 Gods. The list would include drugs and alcohol, for sure—I worshipped at the altar of opioids and booze. I’d probably include cigarettes and food at various points. Work has been a higher power many, many times. And I would definitely throw in about 50 different girlfriends or crushes who at various times became the only things on earth that mattered to me.
One of the key parts of spirituality for me is that some of it isn’t logical. God is mysterious. Not all of it makes sense. That’s why we use the word “faith,” because faith is often a belief that is not rooted in math or science. You just believe. You just trust. These things are not items you can purchase on Amazon.
The romance comparison is a great one. Ever date anybody who you are way into… and then you aren’t? Ever have somebody dump you and you can’t get over that person… and then one day you do? Ever gotten obsessed with somebody that you wished you could date? Why? What the hell is love, anyway? It’s not like there is a 5-part process to complete so that you know you love somebody. But there is some amount of trust, faith and attraction that isn’t quantifiable, and nobody else might feel it, but you do.
So with all that in mind, I realized that I do have a muscle for spirituality. I also have learned along the way in recovery that saying, “No way, that’s not possible” about any topic whatsoever indicates my mind being more closed than I want to. I think it’s actually a big reason why my recovery has been so enjoyable—I stopped debating with myself and just trusted in the idea of continuing to seek and be open-minded.
That would be my advice to anybody who has a hard-and-fast atheistic lean when it comes to God and religion. Think about your capacity to love and trust and center your life around stuff, sometimes in an obsessive, illogical way, and then revisit the question of whether you could ever believe in a God. And if you need to get on Facebook and find out what that first puppy-love person from your life’s history is up to, go for it!
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:
One night, a newcomer took his daughter to dinner at a downtown restaurant. As they walked in the door, the first thing they saw was an enormous sign advertising what used to be his favorite beer. The man’s eyes immediately widened and he began remembering just how good the old brew tasted. Then his daughter interrupted.
“Oh, look, Daddy,” she said, pointing to the sign. “They have Your-Life’s-in-the-Toilet on tap.”
(Credit: AA Grapevine, January 2001, Doug R. from Manhattan, Virginia)
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