The Bible and a bottle

  I am learning to walk, not in the literal stumbling about as a toddler sense, but in the "I am a man and here is what I think and feel sense". This is not natural to me.

  I grew up in a house where differing opinions or emotions was discouraged. My mother and father had grown up in abusive homes and hadn't yet processed their own gunk before starting a family. So I was left an emotional cripple. Just like them, I pretended to have it all together. I was quite an actor.

  My emotional retardation carried over into the family my wife and I had created. Opportunities for my wife or children to express themselves just didn't happen. I didn't know what to do with the information. I discouraged the openness that I now seek.

  Drowning my feelings worked. Becoming a know-it-all zealot Christian also worked. Hiding behind a Bible and a bottle was simply a way of life. I became a super smarty-pants about religion and was quite adept at drinking.

  As the years rolled on my addiction to alcohol took very dark turns. Bolstered by the booze, I tore my family apart. My church rejected me. Many in the church rejected my wife for being with me. I became a spiritual leper for whom some believed there was no healing.

  I got sober at the beginning of July 2010. My sobriety came on the heels of a terrible bender. I had purchased some extra expensive scotch in hopes that I could savor, rather than guzzle, the whiskey. Instead I just spent more on getting stupid.

  I threw up a white flag to God soon after. Surrender wasn't conditional. I no longer had any bargaining tools. For the first time in my life I saw the consequences of sin.

  A month before I hit the wall, I was worried my wife would demand that I quit. As that was impossible for me to do, I was prepared to leave her, knowing that I could just drink even more to bury the pain.

  When my wife told me exactly how I had hurt my family I knew instantly that drinking was no longer an option. Drinking and hurting only myself seemed all well and good, but the pain I brought her and my daughters.......damn.

  Sobriety is scary. When I feel feelings I don't like, the only way of escape is by reaching out to my friends. I don't like reaching out! It is sometimes difficult to muster up the gumption to share the gunk. I often think that relief can never be had. But my friends are faithful. They hear me out and point me to the cross.

  As far as the Bible is concerned, I understand what redemption means today. Church was a place where good people taught other people how to be good. Today I understand that the church is filled with screwed up people being loved by a caring God. The people who know they are screwed up serve God the best.

  I like to tell my friends that God loves sinners. And if he loves sinners then he loves me more than them. I out-sin them all!

  The trick I found is to not celebrate my brokenness, rather I celebrate a God who sacrificed himself to pay for my brokenness. I celebrate those friends whom God has sent into my life. 

  My days of booze therapy are over. If I go back I will die. My body can't keep up with how much my mind would need. 

  So I instead spend my time around guys who are genuine. Am I as screwed up today as I was when I got sober? Oh yes! But in a much more healthy way. Until I get put to bed with a shovel, I will always be screwed up. My God likes me screwed up. Its when I think I am doing really good, that's when I stumble.

  God gave me a big ol' hug back in July of 2010. It felt great to truly be home. He has been very merciful and gracious to me. The love and comfort he gives me didn't come cheap. He took every sin of mine, even those really gross ones, and placed them on Jesus. His son was ridiculed, abused, and killed because of what I did. And I love him for it!