Hi all:

I’ve been overwhelmed with “life” lately, so I haven’t responded to many topics. This one — surrender — caught my eye. Surrender is an impossibility. Asking me to “surrender” makes as much sense as asking me to stop breathing. Running rampant is a natural state for me.

First and foremost, I am an addict. As an addict, my goal in life is self-destruction. Surrender has very little to do with self-destruction. So, my addict asks, “Why even try? You know you’ll fail — eventually. Give up now and save some energy for the disease.”

Fortunately, I am more than my addictive nature and desires. I am a spiritual being, and as such I am attracted to light and life. As a spiritual being I know my limitations. I know I must depend on “a Power greater than myself.”

A large part of surrender is attitude — am I willing to give up my cravings, my compulsions, my obsessions, my doubts, my uncertainties, my fears? Honestly? In the heat of battle, I must admit my first response is — no. But there is a still, small voice, urging me, encouraging me. At first it is barely a whisper. I almost miss it in the midst of the maelstrom which is our disease. Then it becomes more pronounced; I can barely hear it now over the din. It is a soft, comforting, compassionate voice, drawing me away from the maelstrom and towards itself. Finally, I get distracted from pursuing my fix as I turn to the voice. It is wooing me: “Come, come, please be with Me. I have what you are looking for. Don’t be afraid. I will protect you. I have the answers you seek. Lean on Me, and I will give you peace in the midst of the storm. I know your fear. Stretch your hand out to Me, and I will do the rest. Yes, become willing to turn to Me. I will do the rest. You’ve fought this battle too long alone. Come into My camp, and we will strive against these desires together.”

And so, after agonizing over which way to go, I turn to Him. “Yes, yes,” I say. “You are right. I am weak. I cannot do this on my own. I don’t know how I got so far without You. Please, save me from myself. I cannot.”

And that, for me, is how it starts. First one time, then another, then yet another. Until, finally, it becomes more natural to surrender to the God of my understanding than it is to my brokenness and woundedness. One incident at a time. One day at a time.