Life on Life's Terms

Dear Reader,

This has been a day of gathering, listening, and learning.

Today, I made three telephone calls.

One was to a woman in need of recovery.

The second was to friends celebrating their wedding anniversary.

The third was to a member of my family.

Each represented a capsule of my life.

To the woman in need of recovery, I became a listener, a consoler, and a fellow traveler on the road to healing.

To my friends celebrating, I was able to listen and enjoy the excitement of their plans for the day, as well as the happiness they were experiencing with family members visiting from out of state.

To my family member, I brought understanding, compassion, and a listening ear for each trial he was experiencing.

As I set down the telephone after the final conversation, I found myself smiling. Three different people. Three different circumstances. Yet all of us were doing the same thing—living life on life's terms.

What interests me is the diversity of each conversation and how, with each one, I could relate, comprehend, and become a small part of another person's journey through life's events.

You might ask, "What does this have to do with 'Life on Life's Terms'?"

I believe it is one of those deceptively simple statements that becomes deeper the longer we live.

I first heard the phrase, "Life on life's terms," in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous. Yet, it reaches far beyond Alcoholics Anonymous. At twenty, it can sound pessimistic or even like surrender. At eighty-three, it can begin to sound like wisdom.

It acknowledges several truths at once:

• We do not control most of what happens to us.

• We do control how we respond.

• Acceptance is not the same as approval.

• Peace often arrives when resistance ends.

• Growth frequently comes disguised as inconvenience, loss, or disappointment.

There is an interesting tension in the phrase. On one hand, it asks us to accept reality. On the other, it does not ask us to become passive.

"Life on life's terms" does not mean, "I give up."

Rather, it says:

"I will stop arguing with reality and begin cooperating with it."

Perhaps this is why it resonates so deeply in recovery. Alcoholics spend years trying to negotiate with reality:

• "This shouldn't have happened."

• "People should treat me differently."

• "If only I had..."

• "Tomorrow will be different if I can just control one more thing."

Then, one day, we discover that life never signed our contract.

I have experienced loss, recovery, love, service, illness, faith, and new beginnings throughout my life.

"Life on life's terms" is not simply a slogan. It is lived experience.

Simply put:

"Life on life's terms" is acceptance.

"One day at a time" is endurance.

"Thy will be done" is faith.

Together, they form a kind of spiritual progression.

The older I become, the more I understand that wisdom is simply learning to hold life's joys and sorrows with an open hand.

We celebrate when life brings us a sunrise, a great-grandchild's birthday, or a meaningful conversation.

We also grieve when it brings us illness, separation, or the empty chair at the table.

Most importantly, we must understand that life keeps moving.

This is the hidden promise within the phrase: if we stop insisting that life conform to our expectations, we may discover that it still has gifts left to offer us.

So, when you say today's agenda is "life on life's terms," my response would be this:

Today's agenda includes acceptance, gratitude, surprise, and perhaps a lesson not yet revealed.

As the Big Book reminds us:

"We realize we know only a little. God will constantly disclose more to you and to us."

My experience has taught me that life is not something to conquer. It is something to participate in.

And today, as with every day, life will have the first word.

What remains is deciding what my answer will be.

Amen.

🙏🏻🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️ 

When Faith Becomes Comfortable

 

Dear Reader,

Can faith become too comfortable?

It is a question I had never seriously considered until recently.

Many of us believe in God. We try to be kind, help our neighbors, and do our best to live good lives. We pray when life becomes difficult and thank God when blessings come our way. There is much goodness in these things.

Yet I wonder if, over time, our faith can quietly shift.

Can our relationship with God become less about transformation and more about comfort?

As I reflected upon this question, my thoughts turned to the final chapters of 2 Kings. The people of Israel had not entirely abandoned God. They still worshiped, observed traditions, and considered themselves His covenant people.

Their greatest danger was not that they stopped believing.

Their greatest danger was that they became comfortable.

Over time, covenant gave way to convenience. God became less of a King to follow and more of a helper to call upon whenever life became difficult.

I once heard someone say, "Religion teaches us about God; spirituality teaches us to walk with Him." While the statement may not be entirely true, I have often reflected upon it.

If I am honest, I have found traces of this tendency within myself.

I have known people who faithfully attend church every Sunday yet have not spoken to a family member in years. I have known members of Alcoholics Anonymous who wanted sobriety but resisted inventories and amends. I have even caught myself asking God for blessings before asking Him for direction.

"Lord, what would Thou have me become?"

The Gospel of Jesus Christ has never merely invited us to feel better. It invites us to become better.

In Alcoholics Anonymous, we speak of surrender, inventories, amends, and spiritual growth. In the restored gospel, we speak of covenants, repentance, service, and enduring to the end.

Both remind us that the hand of service, help, and comfort should always be extended to those in need.

As Christ taught:

"And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." 
— Matthew 25:40

We are not directed to extend a helping hand only when it is convenient or comfortable, but always.

Perhaps that is why the Savior's invitation remains so profound:

"Come, follow me."

He did not say:

"Come, remain as you are."

As I continue my journey through recovery and faith, I am increasingly convinced that God loves us exactly where He finds us. But He loves us too much to leave us there.

So today I leave you with a simple question:

Has my faith become comfortable, or is it still changing me?

One day, each of us will stand before God.

I do not believe He will ask:

• Were you comfortable?

• Did life go according to your plans?

• Did you avoid hardship?

I believe He may ask:

• Did you love?

• Did you serve?

• Did you forgive?

• Did you trust Me enough to let Me change you?

That question cannot be answered by our words, our attendance, or even our intentions.

It is answered by our lives.

The greatest temptation of every generation is this:

To invite God into our lives while quietly asking Him not to change them.

That temptation confronted Israel in 2 Kings, the early Christians in Rome, members of Alcoholics Anonymous, and every disciple sitting in a pew on Sunday—encluding you and me.

May we never become so comfortable in our beliefs that we cease becoming who God intends us to be.

With gratitude,

🙏🏻🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️