Nothing

I was very fortunate to have been raised in a home where my mom and dad were deeply spiritual. They practiced (and still do) living on spiritual principles, namely those outlined by Jesus. I remember as a young kid, watching how my dad cared for our neighbors. He's the one who showed me how to care for the homeless by taking me weekly to the Star of Hope to give out meals. They would invite our neighbors to church just about every Sunday, and we'd all pack into the mini van, and I'd stare at our visitors the whole time wondering why they were with us. 

It didn't take long to grow into the faith of my parents. I naturally began doing the things I saw them doing, and most of those things I still do today. I credit my dad for how I view the homeless today. I credit both of them for my current involvement in the church. But the thing that they couldn't teach me, and that no one could, was how to believe and trust in God. They definitely set up the platform for success, but I was gonna have to be the one to figure this one out.

For years and years, I developed the practices of the faith. Prayer, studying the scriptures, and getting heavily involved in the church were a constant part of my life. They still are. 

But eventually, it would have to get deeper. Eventually, I would have to face the question, "If I do nothing, will I even believe in God?" Or better yet, "If I do nothing, will God believe in me?"

The latter question is the one that makes more sense to me, because in all honesty, with all of my "spiritual credits," all of the things that I've done to develop my faith, most of my journey has consisted of action without faith. 

It's a natural law to become like the people I spend the most time with. I start taking on their characteristics. I start doing things that they enjoy doing. I start opening my mind to different concepts and ideas that I normally wouldn't have thought about. But the faith thing is something that can't be taught. It's something that has to be experienced. 

I'm not a proponent of the idea that works without faith is somehow invalid or cheap. To me, anything good that anyone does for anybody is a sign that love exists. And wherever I find love, I find God. The two are inseparable today. The words can be interchanged because they mean the same thing. 

But at the same time, I know from experience that works was the only thing I had to hold onto because I had a faith that was counterfeit. I played the game. I said the right things. I made sure people knew that I "believed the right things," while deep inside I knew it wasn't real. 

The biggest consequence of having a faith that was counterfeit was, I had no foundation when things got bad. My drinking took me to a place that a cheap faith couldn't pray away. It drove me into a darkness that most people of faith would be able to persevere through and know deep inside that what was happening was all part of the plan. 

My drinking would send me to bed at night terrified at the prospect of a God who despised me, while my good deeds the next day would show the world I believed in a loving, generous God. There came a time when prayer just didn't work anymore. Conjuring up the energy to go help someone didn't work anymore. Going to church didn't work anymore. Hanging out with faithful people didn't work anymore. 

There came a time when I had to face the fact that either God was or God wasn't. Because, when all the good practices stopped working, I was left with nothing except the horror of my own existence. The best I could do was drink every chance I had. If I felt guilty, it would be reason to drink more.

The last few years of my drinking are still a blur. I don't know what happened in that time. I don't know that I accomplished anything. The lines between consciousness and unconsciousness seemed to get pretty gray.  

But it had to go that way, and I thank God it did go that way. 

Because, if I hadn't drank the way that I did, I don't know if I would've ever realized that faith isn't a gauge that shows me how much I believe in God, but it's a gauge showing me how much God believes in me. 

Prayer and good deeds had become tools to cope with my sick mind. They really had nothing to do with God, but everything to do with helping me feel better. I needed them in order to be okay, because me being alone with me wasn't a good thing. I couldn't bear to sit in my own skin for a few seconds without needing alcohol to ease the discomfort. 

Hijacking the spiritual practices of my parents, I used them for my own good - to deter me from myself, to deny my own sickness. 

But, like I said, there came a time when I would have to face the proposition - without anything to help me cope - that either God was or wasn't. Either God was there to help me or I was doomed to die an alcoholic death. And it was at that point in 2009 that I realized I bring nothing to God.

And I've been bringing my nothing to God ever since. 

Because, lets face it. My prayers are whispers in a hurricane. My good deeds are seeping with self-seeking sloppiness. My faith shatters as soon as things start going any other direction than my own. 

What exactly am I doing for God again? What's that?

Nothing. 

The most important spiritual lesson I've learned in my recovery from the darkness of alcoholism is this: I bring nothing to God's table. 

In other words, God does all the heavy lifting. All of it. 

God brings everything. I bring nothing. 

And I didn't learn this at a church somewhere. I didn't learn this studying the Bible. I didn't learn this through prayer. I learned this through holding onto my ideas and my way of doing things until I squeezed the life out of them. And when that happened, faith happened. 

It wasn't the sunday school kind of faith that I seemed to never grow out of either. Up until that point, faith was what I used to compare myself to other people. Faith was my spiritual gauge. It showed me how spiritual I was at any given moment. I just needed to do down my mental checklist to make sure I was doing more than the next guy. 

The faith that happened to me when I had nothing left looked completely different. It was the humbled, defenseless, spiritually bankrupt realization that faith was never supposed to be about me. It was always supposed to be about realizing how much God loved me. 

Because God always brought everything while I always brought nothing. 
And that's how I want it to stay.