Through the Red Door Blog

“America! America! God mend thine every flaw,confirm thy soul in self-control, thy liberty in law.”
Katherine Lee Bates

This past Sunday, July 3^rd, we had a patriotic hymn sing-along after church to celebrate a little early the 4^th of July. One of my favorites is the music to Katherine Lee Bates’ poem, “America the Beautiful.” O beautiful for spacious skies for amber waves of grain”. Bates wrote the hymn after she arrived in a prairie wagon on top of the 14,000-foot Pike’s Peak near Colorado Springs in the summer of 1893.

I connected to the poem and the hymn when I helped plan a pediatric radiology meeting at nearby Colorado Springs in 1994. I took a six-month sabbatical from Children’s Hospital to prepare for the international pediatric radiology meeting. I had much help from people worldwide, but I had a touch of what Parker Palmer calls “functional atheism,” believing I was the “only” one who needed to get most of the work done.

After a year of planning and everything was ready, I vividly remember sitting in a board meeting in May at the event hotel just before the conference began. I looked out of the adjacent large bay window and saw, to my horror, the beginning of the last snow of winter. I had planned in detail a multitude of outdoor activities that now would never see the light of day. I now keep this beautiful picture of snow on the tulips in front of the hotel to remind me how little I can control in life.

There was a multitude of other hiccups. We recorded speakers for a meeting video. One speaker did not like his recording and required us to redo his filming at least five times. I will always be indebted to Marilyn Goske, whom I had casually asked to watch over the videoing of the speakers. She patiently stayed with the speakers and missed the whole meeting to get this done. Another hiccup was our evening entertainment after dinner. We had scheduled the Air Force Academy Cadet Choir. Then without warning, they were called to maneuvers. Our meeting planner booked a local children’s chorus. I was embarrassed that this would be amateurish and poorly performed. But, as you might expect, they were some of the most charming, talented, and poised children performers I have ever seen. They ended their concert by going to individual members of this highly-educated, sophisticated audience and holding their hands and singing directly to them. We all gave them a standing ovation through our tears, remembering that the children we serve as physicians can teach us so much about life as “American the Beautiful.”  

I also learned from this meeting that I am not in charge, and that God provides impressive people around me who will take over overwhelming situations. I especially learned after dinner that when a door unexpectantly closes, the next door that opens often is surprisingly magnificent. All of these principles are in the 12 steps, as well as our church’s scripture, tradition, and reason. I had learned all this from both directions, recovery and my church. I don’t know about you, but for me, I seem to need to relearn them almost every day. What a gift that God keeps giving us a new chance every day, one day at a time.

Joanna  https://www.joannaseibert.com/

“What do you want?” Jesus asked the mother of James and John in Matthew 22;22. It’s a question that has been asked of those coming into a 12 step program for years. “I want to stop drinking.” “I want to be able to drink normally.” ‘I want to keep my marriage.” “I don’t want to lose my kids.” “I don’t want to lose my job.”

When I came into the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, forty-three years ago—one day at a time—I had no idea of what I wanted. I knew I was not an alcoholic, but I had told my boss, “I think I have a drinking problem” and so I wanted to keep my job. Later on when divorced, I wanted to keep our daughter (which was granted.)

Of course, since I had certifications in addiction, working on a Master’s degree in Family Therapy, a counselor in the field of addictions, and a background in theology and religion, what I most wanted was to be of help to those in A.A. I wanted to become the next “Chalk Talk” priest like Fr Joe Martin.

I wanted people to know just how good I was as a person. I wanted to be a sponsor—but I didn’t want to have one. I wanted people in meetings to know I had read the Big Book and so I quoted it just about every time I opened my mouth. I was invited and went on 12 Step calls, to speak at meetings in the State Psych hospital, be the moderator at a meeting, and be the speaker at a Speaker Meeting.

Oh, and when I was asked to be on the Speaker circuit, I wanted to do that—again—because my belief was that I had so much to offer. Fortunately for me and all concerned, two men, who had taken me under their wings, bluntly told me I should not do that as I had too big of an ego and I would relapse.

I wanted to get through the twelve steps as quick as possible. These were—in my mind—simple/simplistic and did not need a lot of thought and I had no character defects to speak of. I did not have to make amends as most of what I did or said was in reaction to the words and behavior of others, so what I did or said was their fault not mine.

I want... I want… I want… For as long as I can remember, I wanted something and had no clear idea what it was that I wanted. Even in my drinking I got glimpses of what I wanted to be a good person—but I could never be that. I was, for the most part, the trouble maker, the one living on the edge, the so-called life of the party, and inside I knew at some level I was disintegrating, I was dying, and some days, I felt or wished I were dead. I wanted to disappear.

Thanks to this fellowship and the simple program of honesty, I learned that what I really wanted was Serenity, peace of mind, the ability to be myself, to know myself, and to be able to communicate my thoughts and emotions without hurting another.

I did not particularly want to have to do the work necessary to become whom I was called to be. I did not want to have to face myself or others. What I needed was, and thankfully got, a person who held up a mirror to me so that I could see myself; someone who helped me get to know and to love myself and my failings, and to accept that I am not perfect.

What I needed was to attend meetings and listen more than I talked. Read the Big Book and identify with the stories as best I could. What I needed was to become honest with myself, others, and God. What I needed was a spiritual awakening and, when it came, it opened my heart and mind for me to begin to experience what we lovingly call the nine promises.

What I want today is based on the maintenance of my spiritual condition. What I want today is to be alive in every fiber of my being so that I can be compassionate, caring, responsive and responsible when the hand of AA is needed. What I want today is to admit my powerlessness over people, places and things and let God direct my life.

—Séamus D is an Episcopal priest in the Greater New Orleans area.

They say it was like the rush of a mighty wind and there were tongues of fire resting on each one of them. And they were filled with the Spirit and began to speak in other languages. And it confused the most devout.

They also say this was the start of the church. Chaos. Confusion. Bewilderment. Sounds about right.

Sometimes the rooms feel like places of chaos and confusion. Another young person has died. There is wailing and lament. Let this cup of addiction pass over me! Fiery chants from our mouths and tongues. A song of hope and healing. How long, Lord? How long to sing this song?

Surely there has been needless death not unlike our Savior on the cross. And fires and more blood and vaping and bad coffee. Lots of bad coffee. The young girls are prophesying, their tears are running through the streets. The young men see visions of a better tomorrow and freedom from cravings. The old dream dreams like many before them and carry the good news to the sick and suffering outside the doors. Because they know that 60 days and 90 days and 6 months turn into multiple years.

How long, Lord? How long?

How long until the rushing wind rests upon me? Until the wonders appear in the heavens above and the earth beneath? Until justice rolls down like waters? Until righteousness like a mighty river not the tears of the mothers? Until we learn to accept life on life’s terms?

So we lean into the God of our own understanding and we do the next right thing. We know we are a program of attraction not promotion. We know we are stronger as a body than we are by ourselves. We remain ready for God to remove our defects of character. We know we can call our sponsor and upon the name of the Lord and be saved from ourselves. And maybe even restored to sanity.

For such a time as this there may be chaos and confusion. But we also might actually see signs and wonders if we pay attention. Until our great and manifest day.

Deborah M
Lancaster PA

In the July 2022 issue of PARABOLA, James Opie shares his journey with respect to responsibility. The article ends with this statement: “For some of us, more than others, truly “repairing the past” must be an ongoing undertaking one small step after another toward becoming responsible.”

The Twelve Steps are, to me, a process in becoming responsible. We begin with the first step in which we acknowledge not only powerlessness over our addiction but also that our life had become unmanageable. In other words, we were irresponsible in word and action. Even those of us who pride ourselves for being responsible have to come to grips with our irresponsibility.

As we begin to document the downward spiral of our irresponsible life under the influence of one or another mood-altering chemical – legal or otherwise – we slowly (and, for me, it was a very slow process) of fully admitting my unmanageability/irresponsibility.

By the time I got to step five (for the third or fourth time) I became aware – in the words of James Opie, “…the past can only be repaired inside a person in the present, inside me, by confronting my own past and bringing it forward consciously, with efforts to not deflect or hid from what is recalled, but work to be present to feelings and related thoughts that appear.”

The past can only be repaired inside of me in the present. I am the one who was irresponsible. I am the one who choose to drive intoxicated. I am the one who said, “I can handle this.” “Don’t worry, I drive better when I’m loaded.” “I’m the one who said, “No one will know….” Now, I have to come to grips with this past behavior in the present, look in the mirror and say “I did that.” “I said that.”

I recall spending a weekend with some friends and attending a carnival where I had a “good time.” I woke up in their sitting room on Monday afternoon in a sleeping bag in my underwear. I got dressed, got coffee and a drink. When I was asked about statements I was supposed to have said to one or other woman with whom I was dancing, I flat our denied it. First line of defense: lie until you know differently. I was “sober” a few years when my friend told me he was too embarrassed to tell me what I had said and done at the carnival. I had no memory of it.

By the time I got into recovery I had lost contact with many of those who should have known about my irresponsibility. However, I had sufficient vague memories to feel shame and guilt about my actions. These memories however did not prevent me from wanting to blame or hold others responsible for my actions.

As Opie writes, “Resistance to seeing all retrievable details is likely, and it’s important to observe this resistance, too, and not be cowardly.” I would never use the word ‘cowardly’ with respect to myself, but that is exactly what I was – a coward. I wanted to hide, disappear, deny, blame, project. “NO, not me! I couldn’t have said that. I couldn’t have done that.” I could say these words even as my mind told me, “You are guilty as charged.” I knew what I had done and did not want to look at it.

Finally, finally, I reached a point where, as Opie writes, “In all cases, we have no choice but to begin precisely where we find ourselves, bearing in mind our inability to change anything, except in a developing interest to be present to whatever appears.”

Over the years I have met up with folks with whom I had lost contact, and after the initial pleasantries, I asked the awkward question, “In case you are not aware of it, I have been in the program of A.A. for___years. What I’d like to know from you is this; Did I ever say or do anything that embarrassed you or your family? You can tell me anything I need to hear so I can make amends and remind myself I don’t want to go back there.”

Out of these conversations I have learned some frightening – and I mean frightening – things and embarrassing stories. What I greatly appreciate today is this – no one can blindside me with my past. Thanks to this program – living and working the steps – I am open to hearing about my past as it increases my conscious awareness of past irresponsibility and reminds me to continue working on my responsibility which I can only have through the maintenance of my spiritual condition on a daily basis.

Séamus D.
Séamus D is a semi-retired Episcopal priest in the New Orleans diocese.

Recently I was reading Psalm 33 and I was struck by these verses; “There is no king who can be saved by a mighty army; a strong man is not delivered by his great strength. Look, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear [love] him [Her] on those who wait upon his [her] love.”

I did not have “a mighty army” but I had a lot of excuses and rationalizations as to why I was not an addict, that “I can handle this,” that “I’m not like those who have to go to meetings,” that “I can take it or leave it.” Ah, yes! What power! I would have laughed loudly if I had read that alcohol was “cunning, baffling, powerful.” It’s only alcohol, it can’t control my mind, it doesn’t affect how I think or behave. If you think alcohol controls your mind, then you must have a very weak mind.

I don’t think of myself as being powerful. I know that I get what I want when I want it. That’s not power. That’s just knowing what I want and going after it. That’s real strength. If I don’t do that, people will walk all over me and I’m not going to let that happen.

So much for my power and control. A strong nudge from God and then a second nudge – moments before an intervention happened – landed me in treatment, still in denial, and attempting to use my “charm and the luck of the Irish” to get by with a lot of methane gas. Fortunately, the assigned therapist was trained in the detection of such gas and stopping it before it contaminated the surrounding community.

It was humiliating to learn that, for all my perceived strength and control that I was at the other end of a leash controlled by Jack Daniels and friends. It was embarrassing to learn that I could not handle my drinking on my own. It was mortifying, as I began my third fourth step to come to grips with the emotional and moral destruction caused by my lack of control over Jack Daniels and friends. So much for being a strong person, having a strong willpower.

“A strong man is not delivered by his great strength.” My belief in my strength resulted in a four-and a half year dry drunk as I tried to work the program “my way.” I didn’t need a sponsor. I didn’t need to call on anyone. I could figure out life on my own. With my background in counseling and theology I was going to be a great resource to “these people.”

Prior to treatment I had never lost a job, always had a roof over my head, and had transportation. All of these were indicators that I was not an alcoholic. Within the next five years I had four different employers. Something was seriously missing in my life. I did what I thought I was supposed to do; I went to church; to meetings; read the Big Book; but did not have a sponsor.

My problem lay in the fact that I read the Big Book and went to meetings for all the wrong reasons. I read the book so that I could memorize lines to misquote at my next meeting. I went to meetings so that I would look good to my boss; to share my knowledge, etc.

What hooked me into recovery was how I was treated at meetings. I was encouraged to help set up before the meeting. I was encouraged to stay afterward and clean up. I began to like what I was seeing in these men and women who were “happy, joyous and free.”

It wasn’t until I had the experience of declaring bankruptcy that I had my spiritual awakening. In fact, as I look back on it, the financial bankruptcy was but a symbol of my own emotional/spiritual/moral bankruptcy. I came to grips that I had something no one could take from me – my sobriety. If I had sobriety then, perhaps I am an alcoholic and, if so, then I am powerless.

“Look, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear [love] him [Her] on those who wait upon his [Her] love.” The eye of the Lord came to me through the love, compassion, and friendship of people in recovery and a couple of men who sponsored me into what I then fell in love with: serenity, a power greater than myself, peace of mind. Today, my strength lies in the “maintenance of my spiritual condition” and for that I need to live the program, work the steps, share my experience, strength, and hope, and “walk humbly with my god – my Higher Power.

“Take me as I am” was the title of an Easter sermon for “the Denver women’s prison” delivered by Nadia Bolz-Weber. She’s referring to Christ’s appearance in that locked room where the disciples were fearfully huddled, hiding from the mob, pondering their own failures to support and assist Christ during His trials, for denying any association with Him, failing to even stand with Him at the crucifixion itself, and each searching for someone to blame.

And standing among this woebegone group of followers, the Risen Jesus suddenly appears and says, “Peace be with you.” He is taking them as they are, with all their betrayal, denial, and fear. That’s His Grace. And, He takes us as we are, not what we should or could be, but as we are. So, with the disciples. They were learning that Christ was a power greater than themselves, the depth of their belief’s deepened.

My mind slipped to my own moments of surrender. I had long denied any need to quit drinking. I denied hurting friends, family, my boss. At best, if I knew I’d hurt anyone, “fuhgeddaboudit” for I was interested only in keeping the good times rollin’.

The Program doesn’t require a certain level or frequency of pain. But it does require us to surrender our ego, to come to believe that a power greater than ourselves could bring us to sanity.

Christ accepted those “locked-up” disciples each afraid of himself, filled with self-pity, blaming everyone else. His Grace touched the disciples “as they were.” He welcomed them and so does the Program welcome the drunk surrendering his addiction to his or her Higher Power.

His unlimited Easter Grace is freely given to me, a sinner. So, it is with the Program.

JRA, St. X Noon, Cincinnati

When I was very young in AA, I was at a meeting with my sponsor and an inspiring speaker finished telling his story of experience, strength, and hope through recovery in AA. He went back to sit in the corner with his cronies and they slapped him on the back and laughed together. I leaned over to Sharon and whispered, “I want to be an old-timer like them…” And Sharon said, “Don’t drink and don’t die…”

And here I am, on April 10, 2022, an old-timer celebrating 37 years of continuous sobriety—one day at a time—because, by the Grace of God and the Fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous, I have not had a drink and I am still alive.

In those early days I remember a speaker saying, “My washing machine came with an instruction manual but I didn’t—I had no direction or directions until the Program and Fellowship of AA came into my life.” I thought, “That’s cute,” and wondered, “but that’s not me. What about my Church? What about the Bible and the Ten Commandments? What about my parents and the Protestant Work Ethic they instilled in me? Why didn’t all that keep me sober? Why didn’t that make my behavior match my values? I compromised my beliefs and my ethical system—it’s not that I didn’t have any. Why did I ignore the directions I had been given?”

Why? Because of the disease of addiction. That’s why hearing that I was a Beloved Child of God didn’t penetrate my heart or mind. I did not become an alcoholic when I picked up the first drink or when I put down the last one. I was born an alcoholic. I always knew I was different…special, actually. The rules didn’t apply to me.

Early into sobriety, I drew a picture of myself where my  cartoon head was covered not with curly hair but with Spoolie-like “caring deflectors.” Deep inside my alcoholic brain I had a fundamental belief that I was not the same as others: I was not worthy, nothing I did or said really mattered. Or maybe my fundamental belief was that I was better and didn’t need the structure and guidance that others needed since I already understood everything. Whichever, whatever, I was—worse or better than others—I could not hear what anyone who offered guidance or kindness was saying.

About four months before I stopped drinking, I had fired yet another therapist. I had been through a series of counselors, going to them for explanations and answers and not listening to a thing they said or observed, quitting when they got to close to my desperate inner self. But I was so sad. I was convinced that no one understood what I was going through and that I would always be alone.

After I left that therapist’s office that day, I went to pick up my mail. I clearly recall  standing on the steps of that post office and looking up to the sky, up to Heaven, and saying—out loud is what my memory tells me—“God, I can’t keep doing this. Please, God, send me…a group that I can’t bulls**t.”

And God did.

Step by step, day by day, over the next few months I was led closer and closer to the doors of The Rooms. Finally, I entered. I walked in and was greeted—more than that—I was welcomed. I heard people saying things that I had been thinking. I heard stories of loneliness and confusion and errors and betrayals—and redemption and forgiveness and rebirth.

I did not get “cured” that day I put down the drink. I didn’t become all better when I found a sponsor or did 90 in 90 or when I worked the steps. What I got is the chance to learn…to listen, to identify, to improve my behavior and my understanding. Every single time I go to a 12-step meeting, I learn something new. Every single speaker teaches me something I need to know so that more and more, I behave as would a Beloved Child of God.

I am alone no more. Isolation has ended.

“Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood him…” “What does it mean to meditate?” “How do I begin to meditate?” It was a wise decision to hold off on talking about prayer and meditation until one had experienced the preparation for this through working and living the other steps.

I have heard individuals say they take a cup of coffee and sit on their porch for ten to twenty minutes in the morning or evening and that’s their meditation. What I find missing in this form of meditation is any reference as to how, in that space of time, they improved their conscious contact with God as they understood God.

Step Eleven is about more than meditation. It is seeking through the process, or activity of meditation, to improve our conscious contact with God. Step eleven implies that we already have a conscious contact with God or Greater Power which has brought us through steps one through ten. Without our Greater Power, we would not have completed step one. let alone steps one through ten.

Richard Rohr writes that “To practice meditation as an act of faith is to open ourselves to the endlessly reassuring realization that our very being of everyone and everything around us is the generosity of God. God is creating us in the present moment, loving us into being, such that our very presence is the manifestation of god. We meditate that we might awaken to this unitive mystery, not just in meditation, but in every moment of our lives.”

“Our very presence is the manifestation of God.” What a thought that is to sit with on the porch with a cup of coffee and ponder. “My very presence, sitting here, is the manifestation, the expression of God.” Do I see God in me? Do I see God in nature all around me? Do I see God in others? Or do I pick and choose who or what I think represents God?

When I came into the program many years ago, I had already experienced meditation. It was a meditation of absence. I could sit there and clear my head of thoughts, space out - some said. When I came to step eleven, I felt certain this step would be easy until I realized that meditation had a purpose. The purpose of meditation is to improve my conscious awareness of God; to become consciously aware of the presence of God within and all around me at all times.

“God is creating us in the present moment, loving us into being…” As the saying goes, “God’s not finished with me yet.” God is creating me at all times and in all places. God is appearing to me in the form of people in authority, people who are mirror images of me prior to and since getting into recovery. God is recreating me as I learn to laugh, learn to be serious, learn to be punctual, learn to relax, learn to ‘let go’, learn to forgive and ask for forgiveness, learn to love and accept love in return.

“To practice meditation as an act of faith is to open ourselves to the endlessly reassuring realization that our very being…. is the generosity of God.” The endlessly reassuring realization… the nonstop realization; the perpetual realization; the unbroken realization; the persistent realization that my very being is the generosity of God. What a gift to begin or end a day, or just take a mid-day break and reflect that, at any time, without my permission, God is creating me, giving me opportunities to do the next right thing; to make better decisions, and, even if I fail, God is still creating me.

No wonder St Augustine said, “You have made us for yourself O Lord and our hearts are restless till they rest in you.” God is seeking us out and we, unaware of it, are seeking God until we complete Step one and then God takes over and we discover we can do nothing without God. Now, in Step Eleven, we create time to be present to and with this God who was seeking us while we were looking for peace in all the wrong places. God was with us and now we are with God and God is not finished with us.

God continues to create us in His/Her image and likeness, and we assist as we do the necessary work to remove our short comings, our defects of character and replace them with virtues that mirror the God of our understanding.

Séamus D is an episcopal priest in the Greater New Orleans area.

I entered the Program, an alcoholic. I wasn’t told to sit in the “newbie chair.” No one called attention to me. Probably, when the chair asked if there were any “newcomers present,” I may have sat still, not saying a word. But when Mike asked, “How are you?” I felt he really wanted to know! But the fact is that from that first day, I really felt accepted as I appeared, just a drunk seeking help.

I must admit I don’t always carry that level of acceptance into my everyday normal interaction with people. I might ask, maybe, a bit of background and perhaps superficial information: high school, residence, and of course, the Big One, “Do you know …?” By doing so, I fear I might pigeon-hole who and what I think they are?

Learning new things about people is interesting -- their hobbies, travels, schools -- it can be just plain fun, but “pigeon-holing” is not fair. It’s more game-playing and we already have more than enough of that in our lives. Worse, we might tie them into our preconceived notions, or worse yet, reflect our prejudices. There is sometimes an element of fear on our part and maybe in some cases it’s justified.   

Perhaps the introductory question really should be phrased as words like, “How are you today, how has your weekend been?” and said as if I really mean it. From that, why can’t we answer with some feeling that our response is the truth?

I view Jesus as my Higher Power. He’d ask, “What can I do for you?” Why can’t I treat people in the same manner? “I understand your story … been there.” As recovering alcoholics we have the obligation to share our message of hope. Would my Higher Power expect anything less than that in our normal everyday conversations? Doesn’t He call us to reach out? For some reason today we tend to avoid or discourage, to shy away from “getting to close” to someone.

I need to remember to ask, “How have things been this week?” and really mean it.  And if asked, respond truthfully. Our Higher Power in the Program calls us to mean it. Is there any reason we should prejudge a person, or dig into our prejudices to avoid deepening our relationship?

Once again, the Program teaches us new ways to live all aspects of our lives.

JRA, St. X Noon

Again, how are we treated as newbies at a meeting? We say, “Glad you’re here, you’re always welcome.” That’s about it. We may not even get their last name or email address. What would our Higher Power say to that newbie? Probably,” Welcome, glad you’re here.” I doubt the question would be, “Where did you go to high school?”

I’m trying to grow up and learn to accept people as they are and not prejudge or burden them with a cross examination to learn where they went to high school, etc., etc. Heck, by this “preselection “process we may (probably?) miss a lot of good and interesting persons, or if we stay open, we might come across a practicing alcoholic seeking help or one in recovery – Yikes!

JRA, St X Noon.

Last month Jesus told us to love our neighbors, ourselves, and goodness knows, even our enemies. Could this commandment be related to Jesus’ recent journey into the wilderness where he meets our greatest enemy called Satan?

In her last book, Inspired, Rachel Held Evans leaves with us her experience of wilderness, enemies, and how this relates to Jesus and the God of love. She reminds us that our enemies will eventually drive us into the wilderness. Goodness knows, our addictions, once our friend, now our enemy, drove us into a wilderness where all hope seemed lost. Our enemy, our addiction, often causes us to flee to a wilderness to escape the life our enemy has brought on us. We are like Hagar, and her son turned out by Abraham and Sarah, or Jacob fleeing his brother Esau, or Elijah fleeing Jezebel. Evans believes that even the God of love, when clothed in human form, visits the wilderness to prepare for future head-on meetings with the devil.

The wilderness is usually thought of as a scary or barren place where God seems even more absent. Instead, I have learned from my daughter, who is a wilderness forester, that the wilderness is a most sacred place where we, like Elijah, best hear the silent voice of God. The wilderness is out of sync with our usual routine. It disorients us and leads us to a different way of thinking where we learn that the only way to face our enemies within and without is by connecting to the God of love.

We all have had experiences where we have been harmed: death of a loved one, loss of a job, struggling with our addiction, physical or verbal abuse, a severe illness, depression, other mental disorders, difficulty with our children, parents, or siblings, struggling with our present political and pandemic scene. Rachel reminds us that we are driven into the wilderness from these experiences. We will always learn a great deal about ourselves and especially about the God of love that has been there before us and with us. That is the experience of the children of Israel, Hagar, Jacob, and even Jesus, our constant companion. When we are driven to this more barren place, we meet and are saved by the God of love and are attended by angels. We realize we have been living with the personification of evil, the one who lives only for himself without love, that part of us where love for others does not live because our addiction has become our love, our God.

When Jesus confronts the devil, the evil one, first he listens. This is what we are called to do, to listen. We will soon hear another voice that was always in us, but our addiction blocked it out. That tiny voice of the love of God within us calls us a different life. Evil, our addiction, and our self-interests do not understand this voice. Evil can never overcome this love.

Our usual modes of travel, most of the people who helped us seem gone in the wilderness. It is so quiet we can hear the still small voice of God within us. Our enemy, our addiction, once our friend, has led us to hear a higher power that now can be most heard in the quiet of a wilderness experience. This time, we listen, and our life is changed. The enemy, our addiction, has led us to a new way of life that we could only see and hear in the wilderness.

Lastly, Rachel reminds us to name these wilderness experiences. Hagar names the well in the wilderness which saves her life and her son, Ishmael, “I have seen the God who sees me.” Just as Jacob is about to meet Esau in the wilderness, he wrestles with God and names the place Peniel, which means “ Face of God.”

In these next few weeks, we have another opportunity to be quiet and hear the powerful voice that saved us when all other voices within were silenced. The name of our yearly liturgical wilderness experience is called Lent.

Lent calls us to remember where God was with us in the wilderness and led us to recovery. Lent is a time to remember that our addiction was what brought us to our knees in the wilderness and a life beyond compare. Lent is a time for gratitude.

One more time, we have an opportunity to listen to a voice that often can only be heard when we intentionally live in silence and listen.

Lent is a time for silence and listening.

Rachel Held Evans in Inspired ( Nelson Books 2018) pp. 48-50.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com