Sometimes my faith is weak.

This poses a problem for me, a person in recovery. The Third Step states: "We decided to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him." After all, recovery is a spiritual program and requires a leap of faith. Much like the one performed by Harrison Ford in the movie Indiana Jones in the Last Crusade, at Step Three, I must close my eyes, extend my foot over a bottomless chasm, and step into the void with no assurance that something or someone will stop my fall. In my experience, such a decision works well on the silver screen, but in real life, not so much.

The word faith carries with it a lot of spiritual baggage. I am accustomed to the term being used to browbeat me into compliance from my experience in the evangelical church. My lack of faith was a sign of unconfessed sin or lousy theology. When I began my recovery journey and got to step three, I struggled to make the step of faith because of my experience with how my evangelical church defined faith. My experience told me that this would not work. "Why should it be any different now?" I asked.

But it was.

Steps one and two had to proceed this leap, be they on paper or in my heart and mind. As I surrendered my ego, I discovered that I was powerless over my addiction and my ability to muster up enough faith to change my ways. That power had to come from outside of me.

In the rooms of my programs, I found people who lived to tell stories of sobriety and recovery. In the sharing of their experience, strength, and hope, they were able to redistribute faith. Working with my sponsor allowed him to transfer some of his faith into my account. Finally, my Higher Power taught me about grace and how it makes a difference when my faith weakens. That's the dynamic of the program. Fallible human beings are being restored to sanity by grace in the context of community— God doing for us (often through others) what we cannot do for ourselves.

Admitting we lack faith may not be such a bad thing. Perhaps there is a larger world where faith is shared between those with much and those with little. The purpose of faith may be to empower us to experience life on life's terms, apart from attempts to control life outcomes. Is it possible that what we call faith in our religious experiences is just a cover for a set of beliefs and tenants used to control us?

Father Richard Rohr says, "Faith is not for overcoming obstacles; it is for experiencing them—all the way through!" I am learning that faith is a journey through circumstances and not a destination to which I arrive. It is the first of many steps on the road leading closer to serenity.

On this journey, my faith has grown, and I have been able to help others amid their faith struggle. Doing so has increased my faith, not dogma or heartless religious definitions. I can take the ladle of love, dip it into the well of faith, and pour some into the cup of a newcomer or trusted fellow in need. I now understand that faith is about emptying me of myself so that the God of my understanding may fill me with God's presence and power.

All I need to do is close my eyes, swing out my foot, and take the leap.

By Shane M