These thoughts are shared from a very personal experience and deal with spiritual concepts.
I have always known that my view and perception of God was skewed by my negative experiences growing up with my father who when he wasn’t angry, violent, or yelling, was disappointed, disconnected, and absent from my life. I have been able to process a lot of that through the Steps, through reading books on the topic of sons and fathers, and both sharing and listening to shares of brothers in the fellowship.
I have come to realize that knowledge of something is not the end of the line. It was very encouraging and empowering to be able to speak about, acknowledge the role my father had in my life, identify the pain, hurt, and brokenness, and grapple with the concepts of surrender and forgiveness. But that didn’t make my own struggle and brokenness go away.
I don’t think I was so naïve as to think that at some point, all that I was doing in my recovery would result in a complete eradication of the lust-driven thoughts, desires, urges that have plagued me for years. But I have heard and read about some that did describe a resolution, a reduction in their level of lust, to the point that their day-to-day life is nearly free from it. I had not experienced that even though I can definitely say that my life is NOT the same as the person I was that entered this program 7 years ago.
I knew that the concept of surrender was probably involved. But surrender is more than just recognizing what I have no control over. It is more than choosing right responses and actions instead of anger or resentment. It is more than making phone calls and attending meetings. I knew it probably involved God, but it was also more than just admitting that I don’t have control and God does. I can vaguely “surrender” to God but it felt like I was just passively letting something go and saying God has it now. But it seemed incomplete. And it wasn’t effective.
It felt like there must be something more, but it wasn’t something that was just knowledge or some technique or tactic that I could practice. I couldn’t put my finger on it. It eluded me even as it steadily beckoned me to go further, deeper. Over time, I felt that I should continue pursuing recovery and understanding. But how? Where do I start? Doing the Steps again didn’t seem like it was where I should go. I felt ill-equipped. There was no map. There was no book to outline the process. No guide to sponsor me. Is this an aspect of surrender that I had never imagined before?
I reflected that God might be inviting me to continue into understanding and to be taught. Not that I was expecting heavenly Zoom calls, rather, that the process would be guided and superintended by Someone other than me. That sounded different, but I couldn’t argue myself out of it. If the premise of God’s love and value of me is true, then it would follow that He would be interested and invested in my path and progress in recovery.
And so, I began an itinerary-less journey, into a curriculum-free classroom, for an unscripted procedure – following an unseen path led by God’s Unseen Hand. It sounds slightly scary, but then again, slightly reminiscent of the way God worked with men by calling them to follow him into an unknown future. It also felt that there was little to risk and everything to gain. Why not?
I assumed that I should let God call the shots and introduce the things I needed to know, understand, or feel. At the same time, I didn’t feel like standing with my hands behind my back. I thought I could read some books while I was waiting. The first one was suggested by some unusual remarks from our Pastor while he was visiting in our home. He was pre-reading and preparing to lead the adult Sunday School class through this book in the Fall. He said that he had never read anything like this. He had been gobsmacked and undone by some of the thoughts and concepts. That alone was intriguing, but then he mentioned the topic and title. The topic was the real attitude and posture of Jesus towards sinners and sufferers. The title was “Gentle and Lowly” by Dane Ortlund. I knew I wouldn’t be waiting until the Fall.
And then I realized this could be the first lesson. Perhaps my perception and perspective, my attitudes damaged by brokenness and pain, were in need of repair, of correction. I agreed that might be the case and tentatively read the Introduction. I wasn’t even into the 2nd paragraph before I was gripped by the pointed descriptions of thoughts and attitudes that sounded like I had written them. I felt vaguely spied upon as these words pierced me – “This book is written…[f]or those of us who know God loves us but suspect we have deeply disappointed him.” I will not review all that I learned from this book, but I mention it as it was so obviously something that needed to be addressed. I felt a little better as I considered this an example of how things might proceed in the future. If God were able to gently put his finger on an area of my life and bring truth and thoughts for me to consider, this might actually prove to be more effective than I expected.
The concepts and effect of this book were still lingering in my mind. But once again, knowledge and awareness of something is not the same as transformation. I was sensitized to the fact that I attributed my Dad’s attitudes and disappointment to God, and that wasn’t fair, nor right. I couldn’t seem to get past that if I were God and had standards and rules, that I would be disappointed with me. Those rules and standards made me think that is what He was looking for. The book had helped me see that God had a different attitude than I expected. But it still didn’t click. What about the rules and standards?
I wasn’t sure where the next lesson would come from. And this one caught me off guard. Our Pastor had been preaching a series through the book of Jude. One Sunday, I was following along, but likely pondering my own questions of God’s view of me. Our Pastor is not a bombastic preacher, but he does get emphatic and passionate from time to time. He was making a point that rose in volume and then I heard these words – “I never wanted your perfection. I only wanted your heart.” He must have been describing the words of God through the prophets to His people. But I was no longer hearing a message on Jude. I was again pierced by the words said straight into my heart. The tears flowed as I melted into understanding and acceptance of another thing that needed to be fixed. I had for so long assumed that God wanted performance, perfection, adherence, compliance. It never occurred to me that he would value the broken, incapable, messed up me as I was. Even though I could quote you 6 Bible passages and 3 hymns that spoke of this, it had never been spoken TO me. It made sense as it matched the attitude of the Prodigal’s Father, that ran, weeping, to his repentant son. He didn’t require him to shower first, or show some progress, or get a job, or change his attitude. He valued him, warts and all. It doesn’t make sense until you are the prodigal and see this weeping man running towards you.