“Are you in recovery? Because it sure sounds like you are based on what you say from the pulpit.” My congregant smiled at me and my heart sank. I hadn’t yet decided whether to be “out” about being in recovery.

As a minister I was conflicted. I wanted to be honest, transparent, and real. I also didn’t want to violate the commitment to anonymity that my recovery community has. What’s more, I didn’t want to be naïve about the possible ramifications such openness about my addition and recovery might have on my career.

My parishioner’s question, combined with the look on his face that day, made my decision clear. How could I preach authenticity and deny being in recovery. It was impossible for me to love my congregants and lie to them or for me to ask them to reveal themselves and hide myself.  Ultimately, I was not willing to, and not able to, live a double life. I had done that for too long.

“More than most people, the alcoholic leads a double life. He is very much the actor. To the outer world he presents his stage character. This is the one he likes his fellows to see.” This is taken from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. It continues, “The inconsistency is made worse by the things he does on his sprees. Coming to his senses, he is revolted at certain episodes he vaguely remembers. These memories are a nightmare. He trembles to think someone might have observed him. As fast as he can, he pushes these memories far inside himself. He hopes they will never see the light of day…that makes for more drinking.”[1]

Living a double life is one of many characteristics that addicts share. We also share a tendency to feel different, separate, apart. We isolate, we feel ashamed, and we are prone to feelings of depression. We share a common ailment called addiction that affects us physically, mentally, and spiritually though that addiction is different in its expression. Left untreated, it results in unhappiness, disconnection, and unrealized potential. Far too often it leads to death.

However, focusing only on death and “low bottom” cases can separate us from our own challenges.

Many people resist getting help because they think, “I’m are not one of them.” We hold stereotypes of addicts that are untrue. “Drug addicts are black skinned.” “Sex addicts are ‘those’ people.” “Alcoholics can’t hold down a job.”

Not true.

Not true.

Not true.

Ask the top business executive who sat with me on a bench outside of church one day and told me his life was falling apart.  He feared people were beginning to catch on that he drank too much, something his wife and children knew far too well. His prestige, job title, and salary did not fix his problem.

“How do you do it?” he wanted to know. “I think I have a problem. How do you not drink, day after day?” We talked, cried, and even laughed a little. Two years later he texted me to see if I would go to the AA meeting with him to give him his chip, his anniversary medallion.

“…addiction,” writes Alice Miller in Breaking Down the Wall of Silence, “…is a sign, a signal, a symptom of distress. It is a language that tells us about a plight that must be understood.”[2]

Addiction takes many forms. The list is expanding with advent of things like social media and gaming.  Addiction can be anything done to excess that separates us from ourselves, including our feelings, body, and sense of mind. It includes ingesting substances like tobacco, drugs, and food. It includes activities such as shopping, sex, and work. And it can even be aspirations taken too far as with those seeking perfectionism, approval, or even knowledge. The action or substance is not the addiction: it is our relationship to it that matters.

How do we know if we are addicted to something, especially if we have not lost our job, relationships, or physical health?

Canadian physician Gabor Maté addresses this in his book, In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts. “Are you closer to the people you love after your passion has been fulfilled or more isolated? Have you come more truly into who you are, or are you left feeling hollow?”[3] Alcoholics Anonymous teaches that if we cannot guarantee how much we will drink, eat, or spend once we start, then we likely have a problem. I like the simple algorithm that anything we are trying to control is likely controlling us.

Addiction is real, recovery is real, and neither is easy.

What I’ve learned through my own journey and the journey of those around me is that addiction and recovery are about connection and hope and about the ability to feel and be in a healthy relationship that realistically may include emotions, most especially pain. pain.

People develop addictions or are at a greater risk of doing so for many reasons. For example, infant and childhood levels of nurturing, attachment, and trauma and the subsequent effects on our brains and body chemistry contribute to the propensity for addiction, which can affect the family systems for generations in what is called transgenerational trauma. Environment, stress, and peers all intersect with our likelihood of turning to something outside of ourselves for relief. Those are just some of the factors. 

We are at risk whenever we seek something to relieve the pain of life that is greater than our coping mechanisms can handle. This is precisely where emotional resiliency, community, and spirituality come in.

If addiction is about connection, hope, and the ability to withstand pain, so is recovery.

Recovery is about so much more than stopping a behavior. Most people need to learn new life approaches that give them hope, create connection, and help build skills to be able feel and resolve emotional pain without being overtaken by it.

In my case, I had to stop giving so much of my power over to other people and start trusting myself, to let go of the false belief that my understanding of God was somehow flawed, and to learn to be honest and accountable for my actions. I even had to learn to laugh and have fun in my life.

Whether or not addicts recover is not solely about how hard they try; grace, mystery and luck – whether good or bad luck – also play a role. Not all addicts who fail to recover are to blame. Like the rest of life, it isn’t a meritocracy though we have to do our best.

Underneath all of this is the reality that recovery requires hope. Offering that hope, while respecting and believing in the person who is struggling, is the most important thing we can do.

Gabor Maté writes “Not every story has a happy ending…but the discoveries of science, the teachings of the heart, and the revelations of the soul all assure us that no human being is ever beyond redemption. The possibility of renewal exists so long as life exists. How to support that possibility in others and in ourselves is the ultimate question.”[4]

 “…no human being is ever beyond redemption.” That quote is our Universalist theology. If there is a heaven, all people will get there. If there is hope in this life, all people are eligible.

Every Thursday morning, I lead a group at a women’s prison. This is a critical part of my ministry. Last Thursday I talked with the women about this sermon. I asked them what they would do if they were in my shoes. “What do you think people need to know? What do you want them to know?” I asked. “I want people to stop thinking we are bad people, to drop the stigmatizing,” said one woman. “Not another addict needs to die. Recovery is possible,” said another.

The answer that took my breathe away came from a young white woman in her twenties, “I want them to know we’re no different from them. We may be here in jail. But addicts, we’re all in jail in our minds.”

Drop the stigmatizing. Recognize our shared humanity. Offer hope. Believe in recovery. Be honest and help each other be free. We can do that here. Today continues our commitment to such a program.  

So, let’s return to my story I shared at the beginning of this sermon about the congregant who asked me if I was in recovery. My answer when he asked me that question, “Are you in recovery?’’ was “No, I’m not; however, I know many people who are in recovery, and I have the greatest of respect for them.”

Months later, I met with the same person to make amends, or tell him the true answer to his question. I said, “Yes. I ‘m in recovery” Then I let him know how his question had prompted me to come to peace finally with deciding to be “out” about being in recovery. A gentle, loving smile spread across his face as he listened to my confession. “I knew it,” he said as we embraced.  Telling the truth: I’ve never regretted it, and I’ve never looked back.

Amen and blessed be.

[1] Alcoholics Anonymous, 4^th Edition, Alcoholics Anonymous World Services; 2001, New York. Page 73.

[2] Miller, Alice, Breaking Down the Wall of Silence: The Liberating Experience of Facing Painful Truth, Penguin Group, New York, NY, 1997.

[3] Maté, Gabor, MD In the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts, North Atlantic Books, Berkley CA 2010, pg. 135.

[4] Maté, Gabor, MD, In the Realm of the Hungry Ghosts, North Atlantic Books, Berkley CA 2010, pg. 3.