For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgement, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned.

Romans 12:3

I am not that significant.

During my drinking, I convinced myself that I was the center of importance. No matter that it was an audience of one—I was what mattered.

My perpetual addiction drew my focus inward, ever tightening: a whirlpool surrounding my better sensibilities.

But addiction is the great equalizer, too. As we are each thrown about in our own tempests, we hopefully emerge broken enough to look honestly at the state of things.

Recovery suggests that we are no better or worse than the man or woman seated next to us. That our condition, our circumstance, our path, our very being is in fact not unique. We are all garden variety drunks with a deep need of grace.

The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop. Thank God for the open doors of recovery. All are welcome, and as I peek through the doors, I don’t know it but God is already in there, waiting on me to sit down and listen.

Here we find fellowship and friendship in the most unlikely of places. In the remains of a long night, the rooms of recovery hold for us the dawn of hope.

Very quickly I found that though the members of the group cared for me, they weren’t going to coddle me into sobriety. Rather, I was offered an opportunity to follow in their footsteps. The cost of this journey was simply the laying down of my own agenda.

God, get rid of the remnants of my self-importance.