Edging God Out

My life has to be better in recovery than it was while I was drinking, or I will eventually drink again. The fear of what will happen if I pick up that first drink will not keep me sober for long.  Oh, I might be able to white knuckle it for a few weeks, months or even years, but my life will become increasingly painful until I finally seek relief in the bottle. If I really want to stay sober for the long term, I must continue to do the work to grow and change.

We alcoholics seem to belong to a curious class of people who find something that works and then we stop doing it. We start to feel good and then we take our foot off the gas. Our meeting attendance drops off. Calling other alcoholics and helping newcomers loses its priority. We try to coast. Then, sooner or later, we begin to feel restless, irritable and discontented and we wonder, “How the heck did this happen?” No wonder our long-term recovery rate is so low.

Ego wants no part of God, spirituality or Alcoholics Anonymous. Even after many years of meetings, steps and service, ego continues to try and convince me that I no longer have to do the work. Regularly I hear the voice of ego say, “you don’t have to go to the meeting today, Jeff. You went to the meeting yesterday. You’re fine. Besides, you’ve got a lot to do today.” Ego hates the idea of unity. Ego resists because ego wants to remain separate where it feels safe. It’s ego that causes me to resist the healing power of our program. The voice of ego is fainter today, but it’s still there. Ego tries to convince me to go back to the "good old days." Ego wants me to believe in AA I am resigned to a life that is boring and glum. Ego keeps asking, "Where's the juice?"

The taste of spiritual mystery, the magic of recovery, seeing the light come on in the eyes of the newcomers. The laughter at our whacky solutions to our problems. The feeling of being apart of something bigger than me. The peace that comes from knowing I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be at every moment. The growing ability to love more. These are the experiences I cherish in Alcoholics Anonymous. These are the experiences that make my life so much better in recovery than it ever was while drinking. These are the experiences that keep me coming back for more.


I was a liar, a cheat and a thief for most of my life, even well into sobriety. I knew the difference between right and wrong, but just couldn’t seem to do the right thing. I suffered overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame over my dishonesty. I stuffed these feelings down with alcohol, drugs, but the anxiety was always there just below the surface, coloring every aspect of my life, making real happiness impossible. I drank against this anxiety for thirty years.

I know today I didn’t have a choice. I had to do all these dishonest things because I was loaded with self-centered fear. Self-centered fear caused me to do whatever I had to do when my security was threatened. I was afraid I wasn’t going to get my share, I grabbed all I could get. I was afraid I wasn’t good enough, so I made up stories to make myself look good. I lusted after money, power and prestige. I did whatever I had to do.  When I’m reacting in fear, I don’t have a choice. I must protect myself at all costs.

A few years ago, I realized as long as fear was driving, I had to sit in the backseat. I had to go where fear took me. Fear took away my ability to choose. I had to drink, I had to lie, I had to cheat, I had hurt the people I hurt. Once I realized I had no choice but to do what I did, I began to let myself off the hook. I dropped the whip of self-hate.

Confronting these fears has been a major part of my journey in Alcoholics Anonymous. The Twelve Steps dissolve self-centered fear by bringing my old ideas into the light of forgiveness. As the fear dissolves, my ability to make healthier choices returns.


The desire to drink was completely removed from me on the day I signed up for treatment. Before my first meeting, before getting a sponsor and before working any steps, I was freed from the obsession. I was getting ready for bed that night when I realized I hadn’t thought about a drink all day. I found this very curious as I had been drinking daily for thirty years. I didn’t really think about it then, but today I know something magical happened. I received Grace – a gift from God.

The gifts kept coming. A few days later I walked into my first meeting on a pink cloud. I liked everything about AA from day one. Even though I was still toxic, I sensed there was something special going on in the room. I laughed, really laughed, for the first time in years. I was hooked. I often share that it felt like I had finally found my way home after a long painful journey. I wanted what you had and became willing to do what you did.

My ego is doing cartwheels as I write this. Ego points out that “I” am the one who attends the meetings, “I” am the one who puts my hand out to newcomers, and “I” make the coffee, put away the chairs and help where ever I can. Ego wants all the credit. Yes, I do the things that keep me sober, but where does the willingness come from to take these actions? It can’t be from ego because these actions put me in the center of AA and ego only cares about staying separate where it feels safe. My willingness to take the actions that keep me spiritually fit come directly from God.

I’m sober today entirely by Grace. AA didn’t get me sober. AA doesn’t keep me sober. AA is the spiritual path chosen for me by the God of my own misunderstanding.  Looking back, I see that every single experience is intended for my highest and best good. Even the yucky experiences. Perhaps especially the yucky experiences. In God’s world nothing is wasted.

Attitude of Gratitude

I have enjoyed an attitude of gratitude for a while now. I catch myself feeling grateful many times throughout my day. Most of the rough edges of my life seem to be smoothed out. Painful experiences are not quite as painful, and the joyous experiences are more joyful. My perception has changed. Today I see the glass half full instead of half empty. An attitude of gratitude makes it virtually impossible for me to pick up a drink. Why would I kill myself if I am feeling optimistic? It makes no sense at all.

It took every single experience to bring me to the place I am in this moment—the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. I appreciate how good my life is today, but I’m also grateful for all the pain and suffering it took to get me here. I’m grateful for the job losses, the relationship hurts, the financial fear, the drunk driving arrests, the disappointments, and for all the times I beat myself with the whip of self-hate.  I could not have made it with one less of anything. Certainly not one less drink. No experience is wasted in God’s world.

My life is nothing I do and everything God does. I practice an attitude of gratitude by slowly letting go of my attachment to getting what I want, by suiting up and showing up for life and by trying to be helpful where ever I can. I show appreciation for others in my life. I try not to complain. The willingness to do these things doesn’t come from me. It’s all grace.

I’m grateful to be alcoholic. There is no way I could have traveled from where I was twenty-four years ago to where I am today without having a disease that was going to kill me unless I treated it spiritually.


My first sponsor said AA meetings are like sex. All meetings are good, but some are better than others. Last Sunday's meeting was great! We had five newcomers out of 12 people. Two of them were returnees, both of whom had recently celebrated their 90 days by going out and getting drunk. I no longer worry about people going out for more research, but I am always thrilled to see them come back. 

One of the other newcomers, a young man with 52 days, shared a beautiful story about fighting off his demons when he was feeling overwhelmed by a craving. He shared how he prayed, read the book, and even cried for two-hours until the craving lifted. As he described what he felt when the craving finally dissolved, I sensed something of great importance had occurred, not only for him, but for all of us. 

I have come to believe the universe is so divinely ordered that nothing happens by accident. I trust every single experience is intended for our highest and best good. Even the ones that hurt. Perhaps especially the ones that hurt. Those who go out and drink again are supposed to go out and drink again. I welcome the ones who return with open arms and grieve for those who don't.

The Fellowship

The Twelve Steps deflate ego and make space in my being for God. But I keep coming back for the fellowship – for the love and support of my fellow alcoholics. And for the laughter. And for the opportunity to give back what was so freely given to me.

I had never been a joiner before I walked into my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. I couldn’t let others get close to me for fear they would find out what a fraud I was. I had real trouble remembering people’s names because I always looked down at my shoes when I was introduced. Yet, there I sat on Saturday morning in the rec room of the Mt. Soledad Catholic Church in La Jolla, California surrounded by 70 men wound up on caffeine, testosterone, and spirituality. Part of me didn’t really want to be there, but I had to get my little card signed for the treatment center.

I introduced myself as a newcomer and the men sitting around me put out their hands. There were a lot of birthdays that day. As each celebrant and his sponsor walked to the front of the room, a birthday candle was lit and the men sang happy birthday in loud and boisterous voices. I found myself singing along—my first feeling of being a part of the group. Only a few days sober, I don’t remember too much about what went on in the meeting, but I do remember after the meeting some of the men came up to me with handshakes, pats on the back and phone numbers. They said “keep coming back” and I did.

The man who would become my first sponsor invited me to breakfast with a few other guys. I lied and said I’d really like to go but I was very busy. He looked at me with a knowing eye and said, “I know you’re busy Jeff, but why don’t you come along anyways?” An unseen hand gently pushed me to the breakfast. There were six of us in all. I laughed, really laughed, for the first time in years. I remember as I was driving home from breakfast thinking something amazing had just happened. I didn’t know what it was, but I was sure I was going back the next week.

This meeting became my home group. I think I only missed once In my first two years. I made coffee, picked up butts in the parking lot and cleaned toilets. When I was 90 days sober the group elected me “doughnut guy.” It felt like I had just won the Nobel Prize.  I let down my guard and shared my truth with the other men in the room. In the process I went from feeling “apart from” to feeling “a part of.” I was a year and a half sober when one of the men asked me to sponsor him. A whole new world came into view.

I’ve had the honor and privilege of attending meetings in many cities in the US and in other parts of the world. I continue to be amazed at the spiritual love that we alcoholics have for one another. Like it says in the other big book “Where more than one are gathered in his name, God is present.”

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I don’t know about you, but I didn’t grow up in a family where we discussed our fears. I never went up to one of the kids in the neighborhood and said, “I’m feeling a little fearful today.” I learned to keep my fears a secret from everyone, even lovers and best friends. I tried to outrun my fears by doing more, making more, having more. The fear of failing created more fear, but instead of feeling my fear, I drank against it. The more fearful I felt, the more I drank. Toward the end I was getting drunk twice a day to keep the fear at bay.

Then the worst possible thing happened. The anti-fear medicine stopped working. Oh I still got drunk alright, but the booze no longer took the fear away. I felt the fist of fear in my gut even sitting in the bar with my lower companions during “happy” hour. For a few months I woke up in fear and turned out the light in fear until something inside of me let go. I experienced a moment of clarity and a few days later I stumbled into my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. I was taken by the honesty of the people who shared. I identified. I felt safe. I didn’t know it at the time, but my journey from fear to faith officially began that day.

Fear still creeps in.Yet for twenty plus years I’ve watched other alcoholics walk through terminal illnesses, deaths of love ones, financial ruin and all manner of other catastrophic life events -- all without picking up a drink. By watching my AA brothers and sisters live life on life’s terms I gained the faith that I can too. This faith carried me through many dark, fearful days. Today, by taking the actions suggested, I have a faith that works under all conditions.

The most important anti-fear instruction in the Big Book to me is “ask him in your morning meditation what you can do for the man who is still sick.” I’m often relieved of fear just by picking up the phone, calling another alcoholic and talking about them. Today I have a small group of AA friends who I love and support. I make it a point to stay connected. My peace of mind depends on it.

Living in the Solution

Thanks to the grace of my higher power and the program and Fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, I have traveled from a life filled with problems to a life filled with solutions. 

The Bedevilments on page 52 of our book describe what it was like for me before AA.  I was having trouble with personal relationships. I lived with the loneliness I believe only alcoholics truly understand. I was filled with resentment and simmering anger. I was taking Prozac. I was unemployed and running out of money but unable to muster up the energy to look for work. I woke up every morning with an ache of fear in my gut. I wasn’t any real help to other people because I didn’t really care about other people unless they had something I wanted. I had no energy or enthusiasm for anything other than drinking and using. I was dead inside.

Then Grace happened. I saw some truth about what I had become. Grace gave me the power to stand up to ego and reach out for help. Grace supplied the willingness to do everything suggested. Grace allowed me to experience the joy of recovery. It is grace that my relentless efforts for money, power, and prestige fell away. Today, being of service to others, both in and out of the rooms, is the primary motivation of my life. It’s all grace.

I am a completely different man than I was when I began my journey in Alcoholics Anonymous. Today I enjoy rich personal relationships. I am healthier than I’ve ever been. The fear is gone. I have enough of everything I need to live a useful, contented life. I am comfortable with who I am. I feel and express a full range of human emotion. Problems still crop up, but since solutions show up effortlessly, I no longer worry. Today I have the faith that no matter what happens I’m going to be okay as long as I continue to do my part.

I am so grateful to be alcoholic. There is no way I could’ve traveled from where I was to where I am today without having a disease that was going to kill me unless I treated it spiritually. I used to jokingly say if you had my life, you’d drink too. Today, I say if you had my life, you wouldn’t drink either.

It's All About Me

I needed every single experience in my life to get to where I am today. The good experiences, the bad experiences and the downright miserable experiences. I needed to drink every drink, take every drug, and tell every lie. I needed the two drunk driving arrest with nights in jail; the divorce; the bankruptcy; all arguments with loved ones; the stupid decisions; the job losses; flunking out of college; and all the rest. I couldn’t have done with one less of anything.

Today I’m grateful for all the pain I suffered from these experiences because I know I needed them to grow and change.

I try to share what it was like, what happened and what it’s like today.  I pass on the touchstones of my recovery. I share about the first time I admitted I needed help, about my moment of clarity, about what my pink cloud felt like. I share about the relief of having the obsession lifted clean out of me. I share about my first meeting -- about feeling like I had finally found my way home after a long journey. I share that I wasn’t sure I was an alcoholic until a man said that once he took that first drink he never wanted to stop. I thought, “Yeah, that’s me. I never want to stop either.”

I was taught to start out talking a little about my drinking and my feelings of guilt, shame and remorse about the people I hurt with my drinking, including myself. I never want to forget what it felt like to be me in those last few years as the disease dragged me down. The frustration of failed relationships, the terror of running out of money, the insanity of believing a new job was going to fix everything. I share about feeling paralyzed to take any positive actions to look for work or even to clean my apartment.  I don’t drone on and on in a never-ending drunk-a-log, but the newcomer needs to know that I drank alcoholically, suffered consequences, but kept on drinking anyways. Unless an alcoholic can identify with my drinking, he or she won’t pay attention to my solution.

I believe Alcoholics Anonymous works on the principle of enlightened self-interest. I benefit every time I share. If anything I say helps another alcoholic, it’s icing on the cake. I can’t get anyone sober, but sharing with others is absolutely necessary for me to stay sober and grow. It’s all about me.

Spiritual Awakening

I was getting ready for bed on April 29, 1994 when I realized I hadn’t taken a drink or thought about a drink all day long. I found this curious because I had been drinking for 30 years and for the past eight months, while unemployed, I have been getting drunk twice a day. Now, the thought of a drink was nowhere to be found. What had happened to me?

Earlier that day I had signed up for an outpatient treatment center, but I could not connect the dots, so I wrote it off as coincidence. But after a few months of not drinking and going to AA meetings it became clear what happened. I demonstrated my willingness to be changed by signing up for treatment and the universe responded by lifting the obsession clean out of me.

This experience was my first taste of spiritual awakening. It became the centerpiece of my faith which has grown throughout the years. Mine is not a blind faith. It is a faith born of my direct experiences walking through the deaths of loved ones, job losses, financial issues and physical challenges. Spiritual awakening gives me the ability to see firsthand the power and love of God working in my life.

Today I’m sure from the bottom of my soul that if I continue to do my part, God is ready, willing, and able to guide me through any life challenge no matter how great. This I believe is a faith that works in all conditions.

Love and Service

I am absolutely convinced from the center of my being that without spiritual help, I do not have the power to stay sober and live life to good effect. Despite what my ego would have me believe, I don’t have the power to love, understand or forgive. I don’t have the power to form true partnerships with others. I don’t have the power to create beauty. I don’t have the power to free myself from the bondage of my stinking thinking. I don’t have any real power at all. Like our book says, God has all the power. Not 99.9% of the power, but all of it.

The program of Alcoholics Anonymous has the solution for powerless people like me: Work the steps to the best of my ability, practice them in my daily life, and pass on to others what has been so freely given to me. If I am willing to do these three simple things over and over again, I connect to the power of the universe. With spiritual power flowing through me, I am free to practice love and service both in and out of the rooms.

I connect with the power whenever I share with another alcoholic whether in a meeting, on the phone or face to face. The power seems to be supercharged when we go through the steps together. When I am focused on helping another alcoholic, my petty little worries and concerns seem to disappear. My spiritual understanding deepens. Sometimes, I hear myself saying things I didn’t even know I knew. I know today that God is not in me or in you, God exists in the place where we meet.

I’m coming to believe that every opportunity to practice love and service is a gift from God. I’ve had the great good fortune of enjoying many positive life experiences, but seeing the light come on in a newcomer’s eyes is without a doubt the source of my greatest happiness. If I had to guess what God really wants from me, it would be to learn to love more. Carrying this message to other alcoholics opens my heart. I heard once that there is enough love in one human heart to power the whole universe. Wow.

The Red Balloon

I like the metaphor about humility I heard on a Joe and Charley tape when I was new. One of the guys said to imagine that my being is like a big red balloon. If the balloon is inflated to bursting with ego, there’s no room for Spirit to work in my life. The continuous action of the 12-steps deflates ego and creates empty space in my balloon. Since nature abhors a vacuum, Spirit rushes in to fill the void. I’m coming to believe humility is the empty space created when ego is deflated -- when I've let go of all my old ideas (absolutely!), even my ideas about God.

But here’s where it gets tricky for me... Ego wants no part of God or the 12 steps. So it comes up with some suggestions about how to get itself empty. (This even sounds silly!). My ego tells me to “take a meditation course, go to an ashram, read more spiritual books." I feel better when I do these things, but I’m learning that feeling better does not mean I have gained one iota of humility.

I’m learning that humility is a quality of "being", not doing. It’s living life completely on life’s terms. It's complete harmony with what is. There’s nothing I can do to consciously create humility. Certainly the steps and service help to right size me, but there’s no formula to God consciousness. It's all a gift from God on God's time, not mine.

I can’t try to be humble. Even talking or writing about humility fills the space with ego. Humility is so anonymous that the right hand doesn’t even know what the left hand is doing. I'm not there yet.

Moment of Clarity

My recovery is nothing I did and everything God did. Certainly, I did nothing to cause the moment when delusion receded just enough for me to get a fleeting glimpse of truth. This was grace, pure and simple.

My ego was my amigo for many years. I achieved success in the world of money power and prestige. But here I was age 47, unemployed and broke, seemingly paralyzed to take any action to look for work. I had no energy for much of anything besides drinking cheap wine, smoking expensive marijuana and watching stupid TV programs for hours on end. Looking back, I can see that ego had finally run out of gas.

Even though my drinking had progressed, I never thought alcohol was a problem. After all, my last drunk driving arrest was more than 19 years earlier. I had been through divorce, bankruptcy and recent job loss, but in my mind these things happen to most people. Don’t they? As my checking account dwindled I awoke every morning with an ache of fear in my gut. I read many self-help books, but nothing changed. I know today that I was beyond human help.

I went to a therapist to find out why I was such a wreck. After I finished whining about my life for 30 minutes she said she couldn’t help me. Her exact words were, “from what I know about you Jeff you don’t have an ounce of humility in your whole body; your brain is so cloudy from your daily drinking that you can’t hope to get any clarity on your life and, by the way, I think you have the emotional maturity of a 13-year-old.” The voices in my head were screaming "you can't let this bitch talk to you like this" but somehow I was able to keep my mouth shut. Then she looked me in the eyes like she was looking at my soul and said, “you’re in trouble aren’t you Jeff?” I looked down at my feet afraid to answer. Finally, I whispered, “maybe.” For the first time in my life I admitted there was something I couldn’t handle. Without knowing it I had just taken the first step.

Working with Others

I work with others for the same reason I drank. It feels good. When I was drinking, I believed the more I drank the better I would feel. Of course, it rarely turned out that way. But being of service in Alcoholics Anonymous is different. The more I work with others, the more I share my experience, strength, and hope with other alcoholics, the better I feel. Working with others is not an effort for me. It’s a profound sense of enjoyment.

When I was new, there was an old timer in my home group who shared often about the spiritual love one alcoholic has for another. I had no idea what he was talking about. The only kind of love I knew back then was the kind of love you see in the movies -- sticky, demanding, conditional love. Today I know spiritual love makes no demands, expects nothing in return. This is the way I was sponsored and the way I try to sponsor others.

Spiritual love is Grace--a gift from a loving universe. There is nothing I can do to earn this gift, but there are things I can do to experience this gift in my life. The most powerful mindset I can have to experience Grace in my life is to put others first. I always thought the secret for a happy life was to be loved. In Alcoholics Anonymous I learned the secret is to be loving.

Spiritual love does not begin or end with me. It begins at the source, with God, and flows through me out into the world. My job is to become a channel for this love. Putting my hand out to newcomers, passing on what was so freely given to me, and being of service in any way I can open my channel for spiritual love flow through me. When the love is flowing, life feels fabulous!

Founders Day--June 10, 1935

Imagine how much fun Bill and Dr. Bob had watching AA grow up around them in those early years. How excited they must have been when they began realized their simple program of one alcoholic talking to another worked where nothing else could. How connected they must have felt as the light came on in the eyes of so many hopeless alcoholics. I had a small taste of their experience when I was one of the first AAs to carry the message to communist China in 1997.

There were four other AA’s in Shanghai when I arrived. We met three times a week in each other’s apartments. We worried that the public security bureau wouldn’t like us foreigners meeting together and talking about God. Our group grew steadily as more and more foreigners moved to China for work. We met in restaurants and hotel banquet rooms. We met for a while in communist -controlled churches until the powers to be discovered that we weren’t religious and asked us to leave.

It used to be said that only three types of foreigners come to China: mercenaries, missionaries and misfits. Shanghai is an easy place for a misfit to hit bottom. The bars are open till 4 AM; there are ample numbers of friendly Chinese “talking girls”; and the locals look the other way when the crazy foreigners act out. In the early years there weren’t many qualified sponsors in our small group. I was graced with opportunities to sponsor that I never would’ve had in America. Many didn’t make it, but a few did and are still sober today.

In 2005 a core group of members pooled their resources and founded the Shanghai Alano Club. By the time I returned to the US in 2014, the club had approximately 120 regular members and hosted three meetings a day. It’s still going strong. I’ll be forever grateful I was given the opportunity to be in on the ground floor of AA in Shanghai.

I can’t imagine life without Alcoholics Anonymous. Thank you, Bill. Thank you, Dr. Bob.


I was raised with the idea that real men don’t depend on anyone but themselves. They don’t ask for help. My hero was the Marlboro man, a rough and tumble loner. Yet the reason I couldn’t allow anyone close was not my manliness, but fear. The fear you would find out what a loser I was. I went through life alone, pretending I was fine. I became self-sufficient. Certainly, there was no room for God in my life.

I felt I had to earn your love by doing everything perfectly. I lived with the stress of these old ideas for more than 30 years. I used my gifts to become a success in the world, but despite outward appearances, inside I was a shivering wreck. Alcohol made life bearable, even fun for a long time.  Little did I know alcohol was eroding my spiritual center. By the end of my drinking I was an empty shell. I had no interest or enthusiasm for anything except getting high. I was a dead man walking.

At age 47 I asked for help for the first time. I was led to Alcoholics Anonymous. Hope flooded in during my first meeting. I was graced with the willingness to jump in with both feet. Even then I realized this willingness didn’t come from me. I concluded there must be a benevolent power that will run my life if I learn to depend on it. Through the years I have done just that.

I demonstrate my dependence on God by continuing to do all that was suggested to me in my first week. I am asking God for help every time I attend a meeting, put my hand out to a newcomer, or practice a spiritual principle of the Twelve Steps in my daily life. Today I have the faith that if I continue to depend on the God of my own misunderstanding, I'll be shown the way out of any mess I get myself into. So, what’s there to worry about?


I was a couple of weeks sober and sitting in the therapy circle in the out-patient treatment center. When my turn came to share I said, "I feel so good, I'll never drink again!" The short, round woman who ran the center, an ex-heroine junky from New York, snapped back, "That's just ego bull shit Jeff! We don’t say crap like that in here. You'd better just do everything you can to stay sober today and pray it's enough.”

That was a long time ago, but my ego still tries to convince me I don’t have to go to the meeting today, that I don’t have to reach out to other alcoholics today, that I don’t have to ask my HP for help today. Ego says, “you’re fine, Jeff, really.” Ego is right. I am fine. My life is better than it has ever been. I take the suggested recovery actions today not because I’m afraid I’ll drink again, but because I really enjoy being a part of Alcoholics Anonymous.

I enjoy the meetings, the fellowship, and the chance to help another still suffering alcoholic. I often share about the feeling I had as I sat in my first meeting. It felt like I had finally found my way home after a long, painful struggle. AA continues to feel like home today.

I can’t imagine life without my AA activities. It’s how I get spiritually nourished. I connect with the God of my own misunderstanding at meetings, one-on-ones with other drunks and practicing the steps, especially ten, eleven and twelve. Seeing the light come on in a newcomer’s eyes is my most favorite experience. I am a radically different person than I was when I walked into my first meeting twenty-four years ago. Most of the time today I am sober, sane and serene. But growing along spiritual lines is an exciting, never-ending journey so I think I’ll keep coming back.


Recently I heard a man share that his alcoholism has a PhD in cunning. Boy, can I identify. My disease will try absolutely any trick in the book to get me to believe that my recovery is something I did, that I have this thing handled and I no longer need any spiritual help. We all know where this stinking thinking can lead.

Fortunately, I enjoy a solid relationship with the God of my own misunderstanding. Today I have the faith that if I do my part, God will get me through any problem life throws at me. This faith is not based on the ideas in my head, but on my living experiences. Time and time again, just when I begin to believe all is lost, God, in one of a million disguises, rushes in to save the day. I’ve become so aware of these miracles that today I’ve grown to expect them.

Recently I was traveling in Southeast Asia. My lady friend and I were making a flight to Northern Thailand for some hiking in the mountains. When we got to the airport I couldn’t find our flight of the departures board. I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t panic. A moment later God, disguised as a gray-haired Thai man in a suit, came up to us and asked if we had a problem. I showed him our ticket and realized we were at the wrong airport! He said the other airport was too far away to make our flight, but he directed us to another airline that had a flight leaving in a few minutes. We had to pay a little extra for the new flight, but we arrived on time without missing a beat.

These “coincidences” happen daily. Most are not as dramatic, but all are obvious signs that God is working in my life, that our relationship is solid. They simply would not happen if I'm still drinking and living in self-centered fear. No way.

Putting Others First

I’m coming to believe that spiritual love does not begin or end with me. It originates at the source of all life and flows through me out into the world to return again and again. Putting others first is a demonstration of my willingness to be changed, to learn how to love more.

In our 11th step prayer, St. Francis asked God to make him a channel of peace. When my spiritual channel is open love pours through. My life feels peaceful and contented. I become an ever-greater expression of the One that has all power. When my channel is blocked by selfishness, fear, anger, judgment and the like, the love can’t flow. This, I believe, is the spiritual malady that causes me to feel restless, irritable, and discontented. I drank against the anxiety caused by the spiritual malady for 30 years.

I learned everything about putting others first in Alcoholics Anonymous. I didn’t show up feeling very good about myself. But the people in the meetings loved me anyways. Slowly through the years the 12 steps dissolved much of the self-centered fear I walked through the door with. I learned how good it feels to give back the love that was so freely given to me. Seeing the light come on in a newcomer’s eyes when they finally “get it” is my favorite of all experiences.

Putting others first means the willingness to practice love and tolerance not only in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, but on the highway and in the checkout line at the grocery store. Putting others first without expectation of receiving anything in return is the highest spiritual challenge. I feel I’ve barely scratched the surface of what’s possible.


Early on I heard something that has stayed with me through the years. "It is impossible for a grateful drunk to drink." I'm coming to believe that an attitude of gratitude is the absolute best defense against the first drink. Drinking is suicide for a person like me who has admitted he suffers from the disease of alcoholism. Drinking says to the universe, "I want to die." Gratitude says to the universe, "I want to live and enjoy this beautiful thing called life more fully."

My feelings of gratitude expanded through the years. Early on, like most of us, I wrote lists of the good things I had in my life. Today I feel grateful for not only the good things, but the painful things as well. I've come to believe that there are no accidents in God's world. Every experience is intended for my highest and best good. I could not grow without each and every one.

I'm grateful to be an alcoholic. There is no way I could travel from where I was 23+ years ago to where I am today without having a disease that was going to kill me unless I treated spiritually. I had to drink every drink and tell every lie to get to that jumping off point our book describes. I couldn't have done it with one less of anything. Not one less drink, not one less drug, not one less ​failed relationship, not one less financial setback. I'm grateful for them all, every one.

Journey to Faith

I always believed in God. I went to church on Christmas and Easter and I even prayed from time to time when the you-know-what was hitting the fan. I prayed for money, jobs, girlfriends.  I prayed the pregnancy test would be negative. I always prayed God would come down from heaven and fix things for me. I never thought to ask God to fix me -- to change me in any way. After all, I was a pretty good guy. Why would I want to change?

My belief in God did not stop alcoholism from slowly but surely robbing me of everything worthwhile in life. I lost friends, interest in challenging work, creativity, and, finally, all enthusiasm for life itself. After years of suffering, I was graced with a moment of clarity and found myself in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous staring up at the Steps on the wall.

My faith began to blossom when, after thirty years of daily drinking, the obsession was lifted clean out of me at my first meeting. How the hell did this happen? Since I couldn't answer this question with my logical mind, I eventually decided it must be God. I was drawn into the spiritual mystery. I kept coming back. Slowly I began to see God in every detail of life.

Since then I've walked through many painful life experiences without picking up a drink. Each time I get to the other end, I am stronger and my faith has grown.  Faith allows me to trust that the universe has my best interest at heart. Faith gives me the courage to walk through fear and live my life fully. Faith assures me that regardless of how dark it seems, the sun is shining behind the clouds. What began as a wishy-washy belief in God, grew slowly into solid faith -- a faith that works for me regardless of what’s going on in the world.


An old time member in one of my groups often says the most important word in the Big Book is “Remember.” My brain will never forget the relief I felt from alcohol. Step One helps me remember that without the spiritual help that comes from working the program of Alcoholics Anonymous, I am screwed. 

I was a few days sober and floating on a pink cloud. I sat in counseling circle in the treatment center along with five or six other outpatients. When it was my turn to speak, I said, “I feel so good, I know I’ll never drink again.” The woman that ran the center, an ex-heroin junkie from New York with a pronounced lack of tolerance for newcomer bullshit, sneered at me and said, “That’s just ego Jeff, we don’t say crap like that in here. You have no idea what you will or won’t do in the future. Better you stay out of the future and concentrate on what you need to do to stay sober today.” Step One reminds me that the very first thing I need to do to stay sober today is to remember I have a disease that will kill me if I give it half a chance.

I’ve seen what happens to alcoholics who forget. At almost every meeting, I hear of people going out, some with significant time on the program. Most report they stopped going to meetings first, but not all of them. One guy shared that he just woke up with a drink in his hand. Step One helps me remember I am not bullet proof. I am not immune from picking up a drink even though I haven’t had one in a while. 

A few months ago, I began a brand-new phase in my life. I moved into a new home and met a woman I am mad about. My meeting attendance dropped off a bit. I didn’t realize these major changes brought any consequences until yesterday. As I sat in my third meeting in three days, I felt the peace return. One more time I realized I need to attend meetings to be around other drunks who help me remember the truth: My name is Jeff and I have a disease called alcoholism.