I've been working with a friend for the last couple months, helping
him get sober and stay sober by showing him exactly what I was shown
when I got sober.
And there are these moments where all I want to do is sleep, or read, or just curl up in my bed and lock myself away from the world.
For a couple months before I met him, I was starting to get depressed. I couldn't get out of myself for the life of me. I just couldn't open my eyes wide enough to see anyone's life other than my own. And then, I met him.
In this whole journey, which has been chaotic, maddening, joyful, and crazy, I've had the chance to "dig my toes in," as he says often. I've learned that if I truly want to help anybody, then I have to acknowledge that I need help myself. I don't have it together, much less do I have the power, the stamina, or the patience to spend time helping someone else who has more needs than my brain can comprehend.
If I don't realize that I need help myself when the time comes to answer the call, then I have the tendency to think not in terms of whether I want to help or not, but whether I need to help or not.
Saying I don't want to help somebody means that I've spent the time considering, and whatever the reason is, I've concluded that I have something else I want to be doing in that moment.
But saying I don't need to help somebody means that I have inwardly acknowledged that I am full of God, living high on spiritual fat, and don't have anything to learn or receive.
So, helping others is a reflection of how much I need God. If I think I've got it all together, then chances are I'm going to say inwardly I don't need to help you, more often.
I have another friend who lives in Houston, and he's really lonely. He calls all the time and wants us to come hang out with him. I've becomes so hardened to his requests that I screen his calls and get frustrated every time his name shows up on my phone. I don't need God there. I'm full.
It's easy to look at opportunities to help people in terms of their needs, staying oblivious to our own spiritual starvation. How often we come across people in need, and we fail to take the few moments to remind ourselves, "God, I need you just as much as this person needs me (or my money, or my stuff, or my clothes, or a ride, or my time, or my ears, etc.)"
This last month, I've been stretched to my limits, and I'm still stretching. On the other hand, I've been starving spiritually but getting nourished in those times that I don't really want to but realize that I need to.
These opportunities to step out of myself are constant reminders that I need God more than I think I do. I need compassion more than I think I do. I need grace more than I think I do.
And there are these moments where all I want to do is sleep, or read, or just curl up in my bed and lock myself away from the world.
For a couple months before I met him, I was starting to get depressed. I couldn't get out of myself for the life of me. I just couldn't open my eyes wide enough to see anyone's life other than my own. And then, I met him.
In this whole journey, which has been chaotic, maddening, joyful, and crazy, I've had the chance to "dig my toes in," as he says often. I've learned that if I truly want to help anybody, then I have to acknowledge that I need help myself. I don't have it together, much less do I have the power, the stamina, or the patience to spend time helping someone else who has more needs than my brain can comprehend.
If I don't realize that I need help myself when the time comes to answer the call, then I have the tendency to think not in terms of whether I want to help or not, but whether I need to help or not.
Saying I don't want to help somebody means that I've spent the time considering, and whatever the reason is, I've concluded that I have something else I want to be doing in that moment.
But saying I don't need to help somebody means that I have inwardly acknowledged that I am full of God, living high on spiritual fat, and don't have anything to learn or receive.
So, helping others is a reflection of how much I need God. If I think I've got it all together, then chances are I'm going to say inwardly I don't need to help you, more often.
I have another friend who lives in Houston, and he's really lonely. He calls all the time and wants us to come hang out with him. I've becomes so hardened to his requests that I screen his calls and get frustrated every time his name shows up on my phone. I don't need God there. I'm full.
It's easy to look at opportunities to help people in terms of their needs, staying oblivious to our own spiritual starvation. How often we come across people in need, and we fail to take the few moments to remind ourselves, "God, I need you just as much as this person needs me (or my money, or my stuff, or my clothes, or a ride, or my time, or my ears, etc.)"
This last month, I've been stretched to my limits, and I'm still stretching. On the other hand, I've been starving spiritually but getting nourished in those times that I don't really want to but realize that I need to.
These opportunities to step out of myself are constant reminders that I need God more than I think I do. I need compassion more than I think I do. I need grace more than I think I do.
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