Spotlight on the 12 Steps, Steps 1-3
By Chaplain Stephen Conrad
Drug Rehab:
I remember a disastrous trip to a friend’s country creek,
where a hot summers swim sounded pretty good. At 8 or
9 years old, my planning wasn’t the greatest. Somehow
the couple of miles out there stretched into what seemed
like forever. And it was hot! I had a buddy along, so at
least we had a chance to commiserate, and finally we got
there.
Kenny lived outside our town and the creek ran along
the rear of his family’s property. After two weeks of
swimming lessons at the “big city” pool in the next town,
I was confident I knew all about swimming. So without
any further delay, I jumped in. Kenny, a couple of his
younger brothers, and my walking buddy Wendell were
already splashing around.
Oddly, in the muddy waters of that farm creek, I
couldn’t see down to the creek bed, like I could see through
the clear waters of the swimming pool where I’d learned
the jellyfish float and the dog paddle. So when I kept on
going under and couldn’t find my footing, I began to panic.
Any tiny bit of good sense and training I may have retained
from my lessons quickly evaporated, and I started the
terrifying process of gulping water, thrashing around, and
drowning.
That was powerlessness, and I’ll forever associate my
powerlessness over my obsessions with gambling,
pornography, body image, and emotional affairs, with the
sense of powerlessness of drowning on that hot summer
day in the creek.
So, was what happened next part of God’s intervention,
or was it blind luck? Somehow, Kenny’s little brother
Carl (probably 2 or 3 years younger than me) found me
and pulled me to shore.
I remember gasping on the matted grasses and weeds
along the creek, safe in the now comforting hot sun. I
remember too the sense of certain images flashing through
my mind as I began to realize I was going to die.
I also remember having a growing awareness that a
power greater than me (still a pretty hazy idea for an 8 or
9 year old kid) had begun to restore me to life and to
sanity. As a 55-year-old fellow now, I find that “coming
to believe” is a journey that didn’t end that day or any time
since. It continues.
The final stage of that fateful trip on a hot summer’s day
involved a long walk home. I had learned my lesson, right?
Rather than walk the full two miles, we decided to cut across
a freshly plowed field. Wendell and I quickly realized this
was no shortcut. Those furrows held many harsh clods and
our bare feet took a beating.
So where and how did the friendly guy come from honking
his car’s horn to get our attention, then driving two impulsive,
hot, sweaty, tired boys into town?
These kinds of experiences help me understand, “Letting
go and letting God.” When I take into my own hands the
decisions and actions in life, I often end up in similar jams,
and some are and have been life-threatening. God’s ways
are much better.
Now I’m going to go soak my feet.
Need Expert Advice?
Reference Our Clinician Library, Articles,
And Videos By Clicking Here