Showing posts with label #Recovery #SpiritualAwakening #OneDayAtATime #FaithInRecovery #LightOfChrist #Sobriety #DailyExpressions #LetGoAndLetGod #RecoveryJourney #Hope #Faith #SpiritualGrowth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #Recovery #SpiritualAwakening #OneDayAtATime #FaithInRecovery #LightOfChrist #Sobriety #DailyExpressions #LetGoAndLetGod #RecoveryJourney #Hope #Faith #SpiritualGrowth. Show all posts

Sunday, August 16, 2026

Mindful of Us: Psalm 8

 

Dear Reader,

This morning I found myself reflecting on Psalm 8 and on a question that seems almost as large as the heavens the psalmist was looking toward:

"What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?"  - Psalm 8:4

The phrase "son of man" caught my attention. In the Hebrew of this psalm, the expression is ben adam. At its simplest, it means a human being, a mortal person, a member of the human family.

That alone is worth pausing over.

The psalmist looks upward at the moon and stars, at a creation so vast that human life can appear almost insignificant. Then he looks honestly at humanity. We are limited. We are fragile. We are not nearly as powerful as we sometimes imagine ourselves to be.

And yet the psalmist asks a remarkable question: Why would God be mindful of us at all?

He does not ask why man is so powerful, so wise, or so important. He wonders why the Creator of the heavens concerns Himself with people as small and temporary as we are.

For me, that is a deeply recovery-centered question.

Many of us have lived at both extremes. At times we have felt too important, too self-willed, too certain that we knew what life should be and how everyone around us should behave. At other times we have felt broken, ashamed, and hardly worth noticing. Addiction, pride, fear, resentment, and pain can all distort the truth of who we are.

Psalm 8 offers a better balance: right-sizing is not the same as belittling ourselves.

I am reminded that I am not the center of some grand universe. The celestial sky above me is vast. God is God, and I am not. Recovery begins well when I stop trying to rule life and become willing to surrender to a Power greater than myself.

But humility is not self-contempt. Humility is truth.

I am limited.
I need help.
I cannot control everything.
But I am not worthless.

Psalm 8 does not end with our smallness. The psalmist also tells us that we are not forgotten. In fact, he goes on to describe humanity as crowned with "glory and honour." We are small beneath the heavens, yet we possess a dignity given by God.

That may be one of the most healing truths a suffering person can hear.

No matter what continues to plague us, Psalm 8 tells us that God is mindful of us. Not merely aware of us from a distance, but attentive to us, concerned for us, and actively caring for us.

This is a truth I experience almost every twenty-four hours of my recovery. The tools are often simple: the willingness to admit that I need help, the acceptance of kindness offered by others, and the willingness to return that kindness through love and service.

We are small, and yet crowned with dignity. We are frail, and yet remembered. We are human, and yet precious to God.

There is another lesson in the expression ben adam. Every person we meet is included in that ancient idea: a member of the human family.

That changes the way I should see the people around me. The struggling newcomer, the difficult neighbor, the lonely elder, the impatient friend, the person who has disappointed me, and the person who keeps falling and getting back up are all people God is mindful of.

If God remains mindful of them, then I must try to be mindful too.

That may mean listening with more patience, speaking with more kindness, teaching with more tenderness, and remembering that no one I meet is ever "just" a problem to be solved.

Each person is a soul.

For the Christian reader, the words also carry a deeper echo. The New Testament book of Hebrews quotes Psalm 8 and then turns our attention toward Jesus. The simple expression "son of man," which in the psalm speaks of humanity, later becomes one of the titles Christ so often uses for Himself.

I find great comfort in that connection. The God who is mindful of humanity did not remain distant from humanity. In Jesus Christ, He entered our mortal condition. Christ knew grief, rejection, loneliness, suffering, and death. He knows the weakness of the ben adam because He chose to walk among us.

Psalm 8 begins with wonder at the heavens, but it leads me back to compassion on earth.

The question is not only, "What is man?" The deeper answer is this: we are small, but precious; weak, but not abandoned; human, but held in the mind and mercy of God.

For those of us walking the road of recovery, that is good news.

• We do not need to become grand in our own eyes.

• We do not need to despair over our weakness.

• We only need to remember who God is, and trust that He has not forgotten who we are.

Humility says, "I am not God." Grace says, "But I matter to God." Service says, "And so does the person standing beside me."

Thank you for reading. May you always find God's love and encouragement.

🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️

Saturday, August 15, 2026

Wake Up and Live

Dear Reader,

This morning I came across these words attributed to Bob Marley: 

"Life is one big road with lots of signs. So when you riding through the ruts, don't complicate your mind. Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy. Don't bury your thoughts, put your vision to reality. Wake Up and Live!"  -- Bob Marley

I believe Marley's message lends itself exceptionally well to recovery. Every image in it can be understood through the experience of addiction, sobriety, and spiritual awakening.

The road is life itself. Few would argue that joy and sorrow are constant companions as we travel through our mortal experience. Even before I found recovery, there were moments of great joy - holding a newborn child, sharing laughter with people I loved, and experiencing the simple gifts of an ordinary day. There were also moments of profound sorrow, including holding the hand of a family member as they passed through life's final curtain.

Recovery did not remove either joy or sorrow from my life. What changed was the way I judged, believed, reacted, and acted.

Before recovery, much of my thinking was bound by self, ego, resentment, jealousy, and mischief. Life was often centered on me - what I wanted, what I expected from others, and what I thought the world owed me. Mildly stated, even my desires could have very few boundaries. I believed freedom meant doing what I wanted. In truth, I was often being driven by the very things I thought I controlled.

Even in early recovery, many of those old ways of thinking remained. Sobriety did not instantly erase them. Through the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, and by staying close to people who had already walked this road, I slowly began to see life differently. I learned to take inventory, admit my wrongs, make amends, pray, meditate, serve others, and surrender what I could not control.

Somewhere along that road, often without recognizing it at the time, I began to wake up. 

And I began to live.

The road still has bumps, ruts, detours, and potholes. Recovery has never promised me an easy road. What it has given me is a better way to travel it. A spiritual way of living has become something like a stronger suspension system: the rough places are still there, but I no longer have to be thrown about by every one of them.

That does not give me permission to become careless or reckless. Quite the opposite. The spiritual path asks me to surrender the illusion that I am always in control. It asks me to seek a Higher Power and, in my own faith, to place greater trust in God and His Son, Jesus Christ.

Through sobriety, prayer, meditation, scripture, and service, my mind has become less complicated. I am learning to live more closely to the prayer, "Not my will, but thine, be done." I still make mistakes. I still encounter potholes. But today I do not have to drive deliberately into every one of them.

Increasingly, I find myself living among the calm, happy people, places, and things that once baffled me. I have come to understand that peace does not require a perfect road. It requires a different way of traveling.

“I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” 
- John 8:12 (KJV)

For me, this is the light I have found in recovery and in scripture. It does not remove every obstacle from the road before me, but it illuminates enough of the path for me to take the next right step. It helps me recognize some of the warning signs, avoid many of the potholes I once drove straight into, and find my way again when I wander.

Recovery, then, has become far more than putting down alcohol. It has become a spiritual awakening - a way of seeing more clearly, loving more freely, and living with greater purpose.

Bob Marley's words say, "Wake Up and Live."

Christ's words invite me to walk in the light.

Today, I see those messages meeting on the same road.

It is my sincere hope that every person who is struggling, searching, or simply trying to find a better way through life will have the opportunity to discover such guidance - and, one day at a time, to wake up and truly live.

🙏 🧘‍♂️ 💕 🤗 ☮️