i looked, and found, a
celebrate recovery group close by.
the Christian version of AA. for me,
when i attend a meeting, i go to do
WORK. on myself. my struggles. my
bent to addictions of performance and
praise and pain pills. i call it doing
there was a new woman in
the group so we went around to
introduce ourselves. the circle came
hi! i'm ann.
an addict. and
probably, like each of you,
genuinely broken by life,
and my human bent to
fix things on my own terms.
my name is....., and i am
a shoplifter, with many convictions
behind me. i need prayer as i get
ready to go before the judge with my
i am an alcoholic,
among other things. i am
really struggling. every night,
God says to me, "go to bed
with your husband."
but i like this t.v. program. or...
i'm not tired. or...i just don't want to.
God keeps calling me, and i keep resisting.
my name is lindsay (not real name).
i'm an addict with an anger problem.
pregnant, and very impatient with my
three year old daughter. my husband
comes in from work. blood-shot eyes.
tense. exhausted. not always very nice,
either. i need prayer. i just know how
hard it is going to be when this baby comes,
and i'll also have a toddler running around.
it is quiet.
earnest. big, black boots
of fear and failure and terror start
rolling around. stomping.
making noise inside our heads. telling us
to be quiet. that the great shame that
owns us needs to stay inside us.
my name is rosie. i'm an alcoholic. i've hooked
up with EHARMONY because i don't want to
be alone the rest of my life, but then i keep
asking myself if any guy will want me if they
know of the gay relationships in my past.
tears glistening in her eyes.
all of us so broken that we cannot
imagine even holding the mildest judgement
toward each other in the circle.
a tiny seam of light flickers. the whisper
that deliverance can be ours. God promises...if
we fully grasp that we are POWERLESS in and of
ourselves...and look to Him, the ONLY Power greater
than ourselves...then we can find hope. we are all enslaved, and Jesus,
beautiful and pure, listens. to our ragged, raw breathing
slicing through the thick enslavement of ourselves.
well, i am ann.
i flew to a speaking date
last week, and instead of
receiving my negotiated fee with
the speakers' bureau, the sponsor coldly handed
me a check that was just pitance for my
flying across the country to speak. i
was rushed out of the large church,
tears streaming down my face. stunned.
hurt. no, devastated. i'm struggling financially,
but worse was the feeling that i wasn't worthy
of my assignment. never once, in my thirty-plus year
career of speaking and writing, had this happened.
i feel like a worm. no good. as with
others, tears began to balance on the lids of my
eyes, and i was trying to hold onto them. to NOT
reveal how deep this wound felt.
psalm 91:1, 2, 4, 14, 15
"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty....
He will cover you with His feathers, and
under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness will be your shield and rampart...
I will deliver him and honor him..."
keep marching, warriors.
do not let fatigue and failure
lure you to hopelessness.
the Son shines for us. the warmth
healing our deepest hurts and failures.
ann kiemel anderson