Sobriety is, of course, just the beginning. It makes it possible for us to feel again. But that’s both the good news and the bad news. Feeling again is not always so fun. A lot of stuff floats to the surface in recovery. Some of it can be quite painful. But we are learning some new tools that can help us deal with this kind of thing. We hope you will find something here that will helpful in dealing with the emotional and relational challenges that are part of the recovery process.
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by Dale Wolery
Cleaning up the outside of the cup while leaving the inside a mess is not something Jesus recommended.
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by Dale Wolery
Jim Cramer, Wall Street guru and author of a memoir, Confessions of a Street Addict, summarizes what I have experienced as a recovering religious work addict.
(more…)Scripture Reading for today: 2 Chronicles 9; Job 11 and 12
“Shouldn’t someone make you feel ashamed?”
The day began like any other, and unfortunately, ended like many others. Another day when I sit and watch one person take on the job of shaming another. This, I think to myself, is why I sometimes despair. I have no idea why we seem to think that “making others feel ashamed” is of value. It seems to me that shaming is packaged like a value meal. Shaming is usually accompanied with a side dish of self-righteous indignation and a large helping of anger.
During this particular meeting it is parental shame that makes my heart weep. “I expected more of you than this.” “You can do far better than this.” “Well, I know you want to change, but I am just not so sure whether you can. Son, you’ve proven to be a huge disappointment to me.” “I just don’t understand how you can be so stupid!” On and on it goes. Who knows where it will stop? It certainly doesn’t end in a child saying, “Gee, Dad! How right you are! I can do better than this! I’m ready to go to any lengths to become my best self!” It’s far more likely that this kid will comply and lay low–going through the motions of good behaving–and run out and self-medicate at the first distracted moment on the part of his hyper-vigilant parents. I know the heartbreak of disappointed spouses, parents, siblings, and friends. This time, they had so hoped it would be different. They hoped their optimism would not be misplaced. Relapse stinks. Living with disappointed expectations stinks too. I get that. What continues to baffle me is why caring people think that heaping shame on another is an effective intervention tool.
I understand that the “shamer” has noble goals. Like Zophar and Bildad, these folks sincerely believe that they are trying to inspire, encourage, and motivate positive change. Whether it is a parent, a spouse, a sibling, or a dear friend, these masters of shame see themselves as helpers–not hinderers–in the restoration process. This is another mystery to me: what evidence does anyone have that shaming has ever worked? I grant you, it sometimes bows the shoulders and head; it occasionally results in short-term compliance. But has it ever in the history of mankind made the “shamee” a better person? I think not.
Zophar, in his misguided attempts to shame Job into better believing and behaving, gets it wrong. God was rewarding Job in His own mysterious ways. Zophar is certain that this is all about punishment. Think about that; Zophar could not even shame Job with any degree of accuracy.
Two points not to forget: 1. Shaming doesn’t work, and 2. Shamers generally make themselves look foolish. In fact, Zophar revealed more about himself than Job as he ranted on. Zophar was arrogant and ill equipped to deal with Job’s suffering in a way that pleased God. Soon we will read about God’s utter displeasure with Job’s so-called friends and his indictment of these friends. So I will leave you with this thought. If you know and love someone who is in desperate need of a thorough fourth-step experience, please get out of their way and do not hinder their progress. There is no value in your attempts to shame, blame, and manipulate them into compliance. Finally, if you are the one in need of a fourth step, and you’ve allowed others’ mishandling of your suffering to make you stubborn and recalcitrant, please rethink your position. God judges each of us according to our deeds. He’s perfectly capable of handling your foolish friends. Since you are going to give an account of your actions too, why not go ahead and take the next right step?
After the Lord finished speaking to Job, he said to Eliphaz: “I am angry with you and your two friends, for you have not spoken accurately about me, as my servant Job has.” Job 42:7 NLT
It is possible to handle misdeeds, pain, and suffering without shaming. Consequences can be delivered and boundaries can be drawn without belittling one another. We can learn how to treat each other with respect. Job’s goofy friends provide me with lots of motivation. They remind me that it is possible to contribute to another’s problems instead of helping to alleviate them. I’ve got lots more to learn in this area; how about you?
by Dale Wolery
Margot Kidder struggled bravely during her interview on “20/20” with Barbara Walters. “I’m not going to cry” she said, as tears leaked over their threshold.
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by Jason Li
If you visit your local bookstore to look for help with co-dependency, chances are you’ll be greeted by an entire shelf of books on the subject. There certainly is no shortage of authors with things to say about co-dependency.
(more…)The year our oldest son dropped out of high school and became an addict was a very dark and difficult year for us. It was also a time of deeper exposure to life’s most important lessons. I didn’t fully realize it until much later, but it was during that anguished time that I gained a greater understanding of humility, honesty, courage, trust and grace.
In this week’s post I want to continue sharing with you what I learned about honesty
Honesty
Honesty is the capacity to tell the truth about ourselves. It is the ability and choice to let ourselves and others know what we are observing, what we can do and what we can’t do, what we are thinking and feeling, what we are wanting and what our behaviors have been. Honesty is reality unadorned, the truth with no spin. What Jesus taught us about the truth is that it will set us free.
Honesty is a twin sister to humility. It is the freedom to let go of attempts to manage what others think of us. It is the relief that comes with being real about our limits, our flaws, our poor choices, our sin, our fears, our shame, our longings, our love. It is the joy of being able to let go of the self-image we may be attached to and to allow ourselves to be an ordinary human being.
The truth we need to let ourselves know and speak is, most importantly, the truth about ourselves. The first step of honesty that I had the opportunity to take when our son was using drugs was to stop focusing on his insanity around drugs and to focus instead on my insanity about him. In my attempts to control what was beyond my control I was playing God. As a result, I became increasingly out of touch with reality, obsessed and irrational. I had to admit my own insanity before any positive change could take place.
The second step of honesty became possible for me once I admitted that I could not control what was out of my control. Paradoxically, this admission allowed me to take a much clearer look at the significance of what was happening. There was a problem. Our son was in trouble. I had to stop minimizing and denying this truth. I had to see and admit to myself, to God and to others the existence of this problem. And I had to let myself see clearly its enormity, its progressive nature and its life-threatening reality.
The third step of honesty I needed to take was to acknowledge that I was a part of the problem. This can be tricky territory because we often want to take either no responsibility or total responsibility for other people’s behavior. And because usually neither of these is the truth, we end up in confusion and continued chaos. I had to sort out what was my part and what was not my part of the problem.
The clarity that humility brought me made it easier for me to see that the choices my son was making were not my doing. I was not forcing the drugs into him. He was doing this; I was not. I did not cause these choices; I could not control these choices. His addiction was his problem.
There were ways, however, in which I was a part of the problem. First, I was part of the problem because I had passed on burdens of shame, fear and guilt to my son long before I knew that I carried these burdens myself. Like all parents, there were ways I had hurt my son and had failed him. The inherited burdens of shame, fear, guilt and unresolved pain that he carried were, in part, what made him more vulnerable to making self-destructive choices.
Second, I was part of the problem because I continued to try to fix or control my son and his problem. In doing this, I continued to slip back into minimizing or denying his drug use, wanting to avoid the truth because I didn’t want to face the pain.
Third, I was part of the problem because I was not taking good care of myself. I was so busy with all the insanity of the situation that I neglected some of my own basic needs.
Telling myself and God and a few other people these basic truths helped to free me from adding more shame and fear and guilt to my life or to our son’s life. Honesty freed me from getting lost in self-blame or from needlessly blaming others. Shame and blame only add to the problem. Telling the truth, however, is like shining a light in the dark. It brings a simplicity and a clarity.
The simplicity and clarity that were evident when I told the truth was that there was a problem of great significance; our son needed help; I needed help; our family needed help. Truth, when we find it, is always freeing.
Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge.
Psalm 62:8
When we are faced with difficulties in life, we need support from friends and family. We also need God’s help. Perhaps the most direct way to open ourselves to God is through prayer.
Prayer can be many things.
Prayer does not need to be long or complicated. When we are afraid or distressed we need to be able to talk to God directly and honestly. When we are experiencing difficulties, we need the freedom to pray in ways that are urgent and to the point. During difficult times our prayers may come in short gasps: “Help!” or “Show me what to do!”
Sometimes even praying short, urgent prayers can be more than we can do. Sometimes we have to rely on others who are praying on our behalf. And sometimes we have no words and have to let our prayer be the prayer of resting silently in God’s loving arms.
Many years ago, our oldest son dropped out of high school and started using drugs. I was in a state of codependent panic much of the time. A good friend prayed for me and asked God if there might be some message she could pass on to me. My friend had a strong sense of hearing God say one word. “Rest.”
When my friend relayed this word to me I was startled. Our son was not doing well. I was distraught and afraid. I was in full-alert mode, ready 24/7 to do whatever needed to be done. But the invitation was to rest.
Over time I have come to see the invitation to rest as an invitation to a very deep kind of prayer. It is the prayer of trust. It is the prayer of a young child who is afraid or overwhelmed and finds comfort and strength by curling up in their parent’s loving, protective arms.
The way this kind of prayer has worked for me has been very visual. I see and feel myself as a small child, held in Jesus’ arms. Sometimes I sit quietly with this image, allowing my body, my heart, my mind and my soul to be at rest. And sometimes I carry this image with me as I work or drive, allowing this silent prayer to soothe and sustain me.
Long before I was diagnosed with cancer, I helped lead a cancer support group. There were times when a group member would comment that they just could not pray. They felt too sick, or too exhausted to pray. Often they would report that their experience during these times was of being held by grace. All their lives they had been striving hard to pray “right” and believe “just right” in order to please God. Now all they could do was be. All they could do was rest in the reality that God was with them, that God was caring for them. And in this way they came to experience God’s love and grace in ways they had never been open to experiencing before.
It is my practice to write in a prayer journal almost every day. This writing is personal, private and honest. I tell God what I am feeling, what I am needing, where I see myself failing, what I am grateful for. I invite God to show me more about ways in which I need to be corrected or healed. I ask for wisdom and guidance for my day. I give myself, my day, my worries to God. I share my gratitude for all the gifts I have received. And I express my love and affection for God.
Pouring out my heart to God in this way helps to keep me more honest and more grounded. And it helps me stay in a place of humility. Prayer is an act of humility. It is an acknowledgment that we are creatures—that we are dependent on our Creator. It reminds us that we are not God. It reminds us that we are not in charge.
This kind of dependency is not easy for most of us. We live in a culture that values independence, self-sufficiency, doing for oneself. We minimize the reality of our deep interdependence, as neighborhood communities, as national communities and as a global community. And we minimize our dependence on God—for life, for breath, for help and care of every kind.
Many of us struggle with deep shame for having a need we cannot meet by ourselves. Being dependent and in need of help or support feels shameful. This kind of shame often has its roots in childhood experiences of neglect or abuse. If our needs and natural dependency were not responded to with support and respect, we may have come to the conclusion that it is a bad and shameful thing to need others or to need God.
The truth is that we need each other and we need God. God does not shame us for our needs, instead God welcomes us and all of our needs.
An exercise that has been very helpful to me when I have gone through difficult times has been to read through the Psalms. This was especially powerful for me during the years when I was processing the raw pain that I carried as a result of childhood trauma. The Psalms helped me find the words of need and longing that my shame wanted to hold back. The psalmists do not hold back anything out of shame. They pour out their hearts and souls to God. The fear, the anger, the need for help of every kind, the longing for relationship with God, the gratitude for God’s love and care, the joy. It is all there.
The psalmists teach us that we can “call on God in the day of trouble” and that God will respond with the love, the strength, the compassion and the help we need.
Whether our prayer is a gasp, an outpouring of our hearts, a quiet resting in God, or a simple trust that others are praying for us, it is a blessed thing to pray.
When you don’t know what to do…pray.
Questions for reflection and discussion
1. What is it like for you to pray when things are going smoothly?
2. What has it been like for you to pray during a time of difficulty?
3. What are you most needing from God today?
This meditation is taken from Keep Breathing: What To Do When You Can’t Figure Out What To Do by Juanita Ryan. Keep Breathing is available for purchase at amazon.com
by Dale Ryan
There is a difference—sometimes an enormous difference—between the God of our doctrinal statements and the god we live with every day. Our theological convictions may be thoroughly orthodox, but we may actually serve a god who is quick to anger and slow to forgive. Or a god who shames his followers. Or a god who is punitive and rejecting.
That was my experience. I was close to graduation from seminary when I first really faced the fact that “getting it right” in my head (or on a theology exam or in a doctrinal statement) didn’t matter very much if the god I lived with every day was not really God. The god I served was the god-who-is-impossible-to-please. I had served this god for most of my life. It is not a god that I would recommend to anyone. My theology was orthodox. My statement of faith would not have said that God was impossible to please. But the god I woke up to every day—the god whose character and demands shaped my life—that god could not be pleased. It was a god who was not God. Not even close.
Let me be clear about this. The god who is quick to anger and slow to forgive is not a “distorted image of God.” It is the opposite of God. It’s the wrong god. It’s not God at all. It’s not that I was looking in the right direction but just couldn’t see clearly. I was looking in the wrong direction entirely. It was the wrong god. There is, of course, a whole pantheon of not-Gods. Take your pick:
The angry, abusive god
The abandoning god
The inattentive god
The impotent god
The shaming god
There are many others. I no longer believe that such gods are merely distorted images of the living and true God. They may be distorted images of abusive parents or distorted images of people who have hurt us, but they are not distorted images of God at all.
This conclusion makes a huge difference. If these gods are merely distortions of the true God, then what we should do is to try to undistort them. Maybe we can rework them somehow. Negotiate with them. Restructure them. Reframe them. This is not, however, the approach suggested in Scripture. What ought we to do when we find that we serve a god who is not God? There is only one answer in the Bible. Throw the bum out. Get rid of him. It is an idolatrous attachment, and it can’t be reformed, restructured, rehabilitated or restored. This is not a point where it is appropriate to be moderate. We need to clean house. The god who gives us nothing but fear or shame is not God. Fire him. Or her.
But what about the baby in the bathwater? There is no baby. If we live in relationship with a god who gives us nothing but fear and shame, there is no baby in that bathwater. We need to throw the bum out.
But what about all my good theology? Do I have to throw that out? Well, not necessarily. But we may need to give it a rest. We need to take time to clean house. We need to find out why we have tolerated an abusive god for so long. We probably need to get back to spiritual kindergarten. We may have missed—or have forgotten—the basics. I needed to go back to the most basic of spiritual truths: There is a God and it is not me. All of my abusive gods were internalizations of my experiences with mortals. If as children we experience abuse, we may learn that all powerful people are abusive, even God. So what is most familiar to us is a god who abuses. And we may find ourselves attracted to what we are most familiar with. But like all not-Gods, these abusive gods are a part of me. They are my internalization of my abusive experiences. They are gods of my own creation, crafted out of my experiences with other people. Recovery can begin only when I fire these non-Gods and find a God who is not my own workmanship.
It takes a good deal of humility to return to spiritual kindergarten. But my experience has been that anything more complicated is best saved for later, when we’ve had some practical experience in a relationship with a God who is grace-full and loving. It may not have been our theology that got us into a relationship with an abusive god. But our theology did not protect us from that abusive god either. So we need to give it a rest. We need to get back to basics. If the god we have today is not God, we need to fire him. We can figure out all the theological details later, when we have some safety in a relationship with a non-shaming God.
But what will God think about all this? If we have served abusive gods, we will of course expect to be punished. We will perhaps be firing the only god we have ever known. The result will be, in all probability, a season of spiritual brokenness. A season perhaps of doubts, second thoughts, spiritual confusion and spiritual loneliness. After all, those not-Gods did provide us with some benefits. They were familiar. They were what we knew. And sometimes the familiar—even if it is abusive—is less terrifying than the fears that come when we fire the only god we have ever known. What will happen now? Will the spiritual loneliness and brokenness ever come to an end?
How will God respond? What is God’s attitude toward this painful spiritual poverty? The gods we craft from fear, shame and rejection will shame, blame and intimidate. We need to keep looking until we find a God who says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” There is a God we might want to get to know better.
I won’t pretend that cleaning house of idolatrous attachments is easy. It isn’t. It takes time, and we will not be able to do it alone. We will need help. The not-Gods may return to disrupt our lives. We may need to “throw the bum out” more than once. We may need to return many times to the most basic of spiritual truths. But the living and true God will see our spiritual brokenness and will not shame us. In our spiritual poverty the true God will see sure signs of the coming of his kingdom. May God be praised.
Dale Ryan is an Associate Professor of Recovery Ministry at Fuller Theological Seminary.
Scripture Reading for today: 1 Kings 9 and 10; Ezekiel 5
In Power to Choose, Mike O’Neil describes the amends process in two steps: apology and restitution.
Apology = “I was wrong when I _____________.”
We sometimes express apology with “I am sorry.” That’s ambiguous. What are we saying when we say sorry? Are we sorry we got caught? Are we feeling like sorry, no-good louses? Are we sorry that someone is mad at us? Are we sorry we have to deal with this issue?
Sometimes in our “sorriness” we wail and gnash our teeth in distress. More drama doesn’t make for a better apology! In our shame-based “I’m sorry” place, sometimes we fall all over ourselves and confess anything and everything for the sake of placating the person we have harmed. Making an effective apology isn’t about confessing that which is not true.
Humans make mistakes, and some of them are whoppers. Admitting a mistake is good. But that is not the same as saying, “Hey, I am a sorry person.” A heartfelt apology will include a deeply remorseful expression of regret. That’s humbling, but it doesn’t require groveling.
It takes more character and integrity to go to a person and tell them the exact nature of the wrong done than to grovel with an expression of regret that is ill-defined.
Be specific. Name the wrong, and accept specific responsibility for the particular wrong done.
“Because the Sovereign Lord helps me, I will not be disgraced. Therefore have I set my face like flint, and I know I will not be put to shame. He who vindicates me is near.” Isaiah 50:7 NIV
Let’s not complicate the amends process by trying to deal with all our deep-seated issues of shame at the same time. Make the amends. Realize that our fear of shame and condemnation is a separate issue best dealt with in a different venue. If shame and condemnation stalk you relentlessly, get some guidance from God and others. But don’t let the desire to avoid those misguided feelings keep you from doing the next right thing.