And the fire rages on

“It is plain that a life which includes deep resentment leads only to futility and unhappiness. To the precise extent that we permit these, do we squander the hours that might have been worth while. But with the alcoholic [and addict], whose hope is the maintenance and growth of a spiritual experience, this business of resentment is infinitely grave. We found that it is fatal. For when harboring such feelings we shut ourselves off from the sunlight of the Spirit. The insanity of alcohol [and/or other mind-altering chemicals] returns and we drink [and or use] again. And with us, to drink [and use] is to die.

If we were to live, we had to be free of anger. The grouch and the brainstorm were not for us. They may be the luxury of normal men, but for alcoholics [and addicts] these things are poison.”

I read these words a few minutes ago, except the words in brackets which I added myself since I have experienced dual addiction, because I desperately needed that reminder. I believe the words in those two paragraphs. I know they have been true in my own personal experience. I know that my only hope is in my relationship with my God. I know that when I am consumed by anger and resentment that I lose touch with Him. I lose my ability to rest in the shadow of those wings. I forget to trust. I know this. I know the solution. I know I have to let go of my right to be mad and give it all over to the One who is greater than I.

Yes, I know what I need to do. The execution of that is a little more difficult at the moment however. I am hurt, frustrated and angry. Angry really seems like too calm a term to use. I am enraged. I want to let it go, but I also want to let it burn like a wildfire in the dry season. I want to curl up in a little ball and cry. I want to fight, to strike out at something, anything. I want to say screw it and quit trying. I want the fairness I don’t deserve. I want it all made right at this very moment. I want a break. I want to scream at God and ask, “What the fuck?!” Not a polite, respectable, or morally just response I admit, but it is as honest as I can be right now. My God is big enough to take it. Besides, He already knows how I feel in my heart, whether I speak it out loud, write it, or bury it inside and try to pretend it doesn’t exist. That last one doesn’t work for me too well anymore, because another part of those previous paragraphs that is quite true is that anger pushed down, kept inside, and denied is pure poison.

I only know two antidotes for such deadly toxins in my life. The first is God. The other is better living through modern (and ancient) chemistry. The first works without adverse side effects. The second kills me as surely as the poison does. So I must choose the first if I am to survive. I have to get my help from Him. But that help can not come if I can not be honest with myself and with my God about how I feel and what I am thinking. I can’t go to the doctor with a broken arm, tell him I have a little twinge of pain in my arm but my sinuses are killing me and expect to have my arm treated properly. Yes, God knows what’s wrong. He knows better than I do. But I need to be able to express it honestly, to cry out for help and not hide any of the symptoms, including attitudes and thoughts I wouldn’t like to admit in front of my mother. Why? Because it is only when I am truly able to be honest about what and how I feel that I can become willing to let God do what needs to be done to change it. If I am trying to hide my anger and pain from Him, and really, how foolish is that idea, I can’t let him anoint my wounds with the soothing and healing balm that comes from Him. I can’t let a wound be treated that I am pretending doesn’t exist.

So I admit I am angry. I admit that a part of me wants to hold on to that anger and let it burn and destroy things, even my life if that is what it takes to burn up all the fuel of resentment that I have in my tank. I admit that I feel abandoned. And I admit that I know that I have never been abandoned of God, that letting the fires burn is insanity, and that I know that what I want to do and what I need to do right now are two entirely different things. Now that I have looked at that and admitted that I can say, “Please save me from myself. Please take this hurt, confusion, and anger from me, even the parts of those that I don’t really want to let go of. I am willing, please help me with my unwillingness. I know the path I am inclined to take, my natural instinct and reaction, is a perilous path of danger and death. Show me the detour that You would have me take and guide me safely through the shadows. Help me to understand that I don’t need to understand but to trust. Thank you.”

And maybe, just maybe, if I cling to that prayer and the One who has the power to answer it, I will find myself safely passing through the storm. If not, if the waves wash over me and crush me, then I can go down knowing I did my best to do it God’s way and not mine, and there is peace and freedom in that as well. As long as I keep trying, as long as I don’t drink or drug, rescue is possible. It may be from an uncharted island after my ship crashes on the rocks instead of being safely guided to harbor, but rescue is rescue.

The other day I participated in a discussion on the subject of resentments. It occurred to me that unresolved anger, unforgiveness, resentments held on to leave us raw and reactionary. I remember a time in my teens when I made a mistake with some gasoline that cause it to explode up and around me. I quickly realized that I had covered my upper body and face with second degree burns. I felt pure agony.

My burnt skin became so sensitive that everything caused sharp and burning pain. Things that normally felt good suddenly became distressful. The Air conditioner made me ache as the cool air on my skin provided a sensation much like being cut. But when I turned the AC off, the heat on and from my body made me burn, and the sweat running down my body tortured me. There was nothing I could do to find a position and environment that provided comfort and relief. I quickly fought that discomfort with chemical aid.

I mention that story, because I think that’s what resentments do. When I hang on to the hurt and anger, to my right to play the part of the victim, and to the justification of the wronged and abused, I fill my life with a toxin. Unforgiveness in my life and heart poisons me in a way that leaves my emotional and mental nerves raw and exposed. Now the least amount of stimulation, even things which should be positive and feel good, suddenly cause me pain and discomfort in a way that causes a reflexive reaction that I can not control. It happens before I can even think about how I should respond. I have already reacted. The reaction is almost always either flee from whatever I feel causing pain or fight, strike back, hurt whatever or whomever is hurting me.

Thinking about this made me realize that fear is the same for me. When I allow myself to become filled with fear I lose my ability to think clearly, to make rational, wise decisions. My mind becomes like a raw nerve where any situation can leave me totally paralyzed or fleeing in a blind state of panic. How many times have I stayed in a wrong or unhealthy situation because the possible dream mixed in with the unknown and risk felt more frightening than the hell I lived in? How many times did I latch onto the first possible avenue of escape from my situation willing to settle for anything different in the hopes that different could also mean better? And as crazy as it sounds, how many times have I attempted to do both at the same time for the same situation?

When I live in fear I can not ever be satisfied with any current situation. I look for danger, for the bottom to fall out of every good thing in my life. I find myself constantly looking for, hoping for, wondering about the possibility of better. But when I am able to trust God, release my fear, and live in the now, then I can experience the present in a way that involves peace, joy, hope, and other such positive rarities. When I am not afraid then I can move on to the next phase of my life because that’s what needs to happen, not because I am terrified to stay where I am at. Or I can stay in situations through difficult times because I know that I am right where God wants me today and not because I am paralyzed by fear and unable or unwilling to do anything else. I can wait for direction because I am not panicked. Or I can move on command without hesitation knowing that I trust my commander.

That makes sense to me, but for some reason I find it so difficult to practice. So many of my nerves are still raw, made doubly sensitive by both resentments and fear. I know in order to deaden those reaction producing nerves I need to let go and forgive and trust God. The perfect salve is available for my needs, but sometimes I forget to use it. When I find myself wanting to make quick decisions because something happened or someone did something, it is a sign for me that I am becoming sensitive in those nerves once again. When I find myself trying to read what others want or are going to do so that I know what I feel I should do, then I am living on outside stimulus and not listening to the still quiet voice inside. I am raw and reactionary; I have allowed fear to fester and grow in my life again, or I have been hurt and have not released that pain and anger, haven’t forgiven, have held on to that resentment.


If the condition worsens, I will lose all ability to make any choices for myself. Every choice I make, each path I start down, will be a reaction to something outside of me. I know. I’ve done it too many times. I lived my life like that for far too many years. I turned myself into a puppet controlled by others, even if I did the opposite of what they wanted every time, my actions were still determined by my perceptions of someone else’s thoughts, feelings, desires, etc. But when I release those resentments, rid myself of fear, turn my will and path over to my God and then trust said God to guide, protect and accompany me, then those nerves are soothed. The pain fades. The air on my skin feels good again. I can be comfortable enough to be still so that I can hear myself think, so that I can hear God. Then my actions are controlled from the inside, and whatever comes, because good and bad come to us all in this life,. Then I can remain happy, joyous and free, content in and comforted by the light of the Spirit.

Learning to see the miracles

I live in East Texas, and a miracle occurred here last night. It snowed. Not the “Hey it’s snowing outside look at the miniscule flakes because it’ll melt two seconds after hitting the ground” kind of snow, but the four inches of powder on the ground in the morning kind. I know, for everyone a few hours north of here, the above sounds silly. Snow in the north is like pine trees here…too common to be a wonder. But here it is a miracle of drastic proportions that shuts down schools and stops the world for a little while, causing wonder much on the same level as Christmas morning.

And I didn’t care. A friend texted me last night. “IT’S SNOWING!!!” I didn’t even get up and go look outside. I didn’t feel well. I’ve been sick for days and spent the vast majority of the last 24 hours sleeping off and on, mostly on, and doing little else. My thoughts centered on my misery, and when I heard the news of a miracle happening, I could not bring myself to care enough to even get up out of bed. Around four in the morning, I took a peak after having to get up for a restroom visit. The snow glistened in the moonlight, and the sight of my motorcycle in outline, completely covered in snow like a custom fitted canvas cover filled my heart with joy and awe, for a few seconds anyway. I wanted to take a picture, but the light at that time of morning is not well suited for photography. I told myself I would shoot the scene at sunrise.

Not longer after my resolution to capture this miracle through my passion for photography, I promptly fell back asleep and stayed in dreamland until about 11. So much for that idea. I went outside, and the scene still inspired, but much of the snow had already melted leaving the lower half of my Shadow visible. The opportunity had not passed completely, but the scene that inspired me no longer existed. I felt a moment of regret for not caring enough at the time to stay awake the two hours that would have enabled me to shoot the scene. I say photography is my passion, but my passion this morning could not override my self-pity and comfortable misery.

An hour later, I left the house. The land lay blanketed in white, but all too often, all I noticed was the decay. The water dripped from trees and rooftops as the snow melted. The snow on the road turned to slush and became brown as it mixed with mud. I saw the coming end of the miracle and the mess that would be left behind. I wanted to see the miracle. I wanted to feel that joy that lit up the eyes of those I encountered as they relived the memories of snow days past. I talked with a few people of the Storm of ‘83 like an old timer. But the awe of the day that everyone seemed to be feeling eluded me.

I realized my life has been much like that. I spent my life so self-centered and focused on my lack, my problems, the dreams I just knew would never come true, my pain, my my my. I lived this way so much it killed and overrode my passions. I found my enthusiasm, hope, and joy had expired like a special offer coupon discovered two days too late. I failed to see the wonder of so many miracles in my life. The few I did manage at the time the were occurring, failed to inspire awe for long. I quickly saw the decay, the shortcomings, the fleeting nature of anything good in my life. I knew the time would quickly come when the miracle would melt away leaving only nasty, brown sludge in it’s wake. Is it any wonder I never saw life worth living when I looked at it through eyes glazed over by scales of negativity. No wonder I needed any and every chance to escape the life I knew, felt and saw around me.

After thinking of these things a short while, I walked back outside and looked around with scale-free eyes. Beauty surrounded me. The miracle invaded my soul and reminded me that life is good, that even decaying miracles are better than none and can lift the spirit. There is hope to be found. Sure the snow will melt away, but one day, perhaps even in this decade, snow will fall and stick once again. I don’t need one big burning bush miracle to change my life. I just need to retrain myself to the see the beauty and power of the many little miracles that flow through my life on a frequent basis from my God who loves me and makes me capable of being moved by the beauty of life, even life filled with slush and the inconvenience of downed power lines.