Reflections on Surrender and the Truth that I Am Enough

Dear Friends,

This past week, someone asked me:
"How do you feel about God's Plan of Salvation?"

At first, I gave a quick, almost automatic reply:
"Well, it's perfect! It allows me to have a premortal life, choose to come to Earth, be tried through my agency, live a good life, avoid harming others, and then return to God's presence in the Celestial Kingdom."

It was a textbook answer—doctrinally sound but emotionally shallow. As I reflected more deeply on the question, I began to ask myself something greater:
What does it really mean to be in and surrounded by God's plan? Have I truly surrendered to the way of life Christ lived? Am I doing enough to receive the privilege of being in God's presence—and His Son’s?

As I’ve sat with those questions, I’ve come to understand this: Striving to be Christlike is not about achieving flawlessness. It’s about staying willing.  It’s a process, not a pass/fail test.

As SweetyZee so beautifully puts it: “We do not have to be perfect, self-assured, and untarnished, to be accepted and loved.”

    

    We only need to be actively making the effort—to keep surrendering, one day at a time, to God’s will. When we turn our will and our lives over to the care of the Comforter—the Holy Ghost—we are guided along the path. We may not always see the way, but we are being led.

Michael J. Fox once said: “One's dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but cannot be taken away unless it is surrendered.” That quote strikes a deep chord with me. I believe it’s a reminder that we are born as beloved children of a loving God, and nothing—not trauma, addiction, weakness, or doubt—can steal that truth from us unless we give it up.

    Even when we falter, we are never far from His love. The atonement of Jesus Christ doesn’t require us to be spotless before we approach Him.  It invites us to return, And every return is welcomed.

    Through Christ’s atonement, we are offered a way back, again and again. If we’ve harmed others, acted against our conscience, or stepped away from the path—we can repent, and be restored.

"God's love for us carries forgiveness with each renewed effort to be like Him."

That love is not conditional on perfection. It rests instead on honesty, humility, and the courage to return.

    As the Apostle John reminds us:

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” — 1 John 1:9

Let me return to the heart of this message: We are not asked to be perfect before we are welcomed.

    We are not required to have all the answers before we belong. 

    And we are certainly not expected to arrive at the foot of grace spotless and shining.

The truth is—we are loved as we are.

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✨Additional Reflections That Speak to This Truth:

• “Each time we let go of fear and surrender to God’s love, we deepen our ability to forgive ourselves and others.”
  — Henri Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal Son

• “We must lay before Him what is in us, not what ought to be in us.”
  — C.S. Lewis

• “Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more.”
  — Doctrine & Covenants 58:42

• “God never tires of forgiving us; we are the ones who tire of seeking his mercy.”
  — Pope Francis, The Joy of the Gospel

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You are enough—not because you have completed the journey, but because you are still walking it.
Let today be another step forward.

Ministering Message: A Journey of Spiritual Transformation and Prayer

 

Dear Friend, 

As I reflect on the path that led me to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, one truth stands out: the most important changes in my life have not been outward—but inward. I have experienced what the scriptures call a “mighty change of heart” (Alma 5:14). That change has come gradually, quietly, and powerfully through the grace of God and the light of His Son, Jesus Christ. 

At first, my understanding of God was small. I prayed because others spoke of its power, and I longed to feel peace. I didn’t know exactly who I was praying to—but I opened my heart anyway. And something started to happen. 

There was one simple prayer I remember—just naming someone I cared about—and in doing so, I unexpectedly said, “God bless Mother.” It wasn’t planned. But that phrase unlocked something deep in my soul. A weight I didn’t know I was carrying was lifted. In that small moment, I felt healing begin. 

As I’ve grown in the gospel, I’ve come to know the One who offers that healing: Jesus Christ. I’ve learned what it means to pray in His sacred name. At first, I struggled with that phrase. I worried it might narrow what I had just begun to understand. But I’ve since learned: it doesn’t narrow—it deepens. It grounds my prayers in truth and power. 

The Savior is not distant. He is near. “In the beginning was the Word… and the Word was made flesh” (John 1:1,14). The God I once reached for is the same God who sent His Son to walk among us. The peace I once hoped for now has a source—a name, a face, and a life: Jesus Christ. 

Spiritual transformation isn’t about becoming someone else—it’s about becoming who God always intended us to be. It's a process of reflection, surrender, prayer, and purpose. For me, that process has looked something like this: 

• Reflecting honestly on my thoughts and actions 

• Letting go of control and trusting in God’s plan 

• Seeking God’s will through prayer and scripture 

• Serving others with love and gratitude 

• Living with purpose, as a disciple of Jesus Christ 

I bear testimony that change is real. Peace is possible. And our prayers—in the name of Jesus Christ—are heard and answered. 

This journey isn’t over. It’s still unfolding. But I now walk it with a clear sense of direction, and with the companionship of the Holy Ghost. 

Christ is doing for me what I could never do for myself. And for that, I am grateful. 

With love and faith, 

 

 

 

 

 

Alma 5:14 

14 "And now behold, I ask of you, my brethren of the church, have ye spiritually been born of God? Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?" 

Mosiah 27:25,26 

25 And the Lord said unto me: Marvel not that all mankind, yea, men and women, all nations, kindreds, tongues and people, must be born again; yea, born of God, changed from their carnal and fallen state, to a state of righteousness, being redeemed of God, becoming his sons and daughters; 

  

26 And thus they become new creatures; and unless they do this, they can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God. 

Suggested, Not Commanded: The Sacred Power of Choice in AA and Faith

At almost every AA meeting, someone reads “How It Works.” Many of us come to see the 12 Steps as rules—rigid and non-negotiable. If we don’t follow them, we fear we’ll drink again. But there's one phrase in that reading that deserves a closer look:

“Here are the steps we took, which are suggested as a program of recovery.”

That single word—suggested—offers a doorway into freedom. It invites, but does not force. It respects us as souls capable of choosing.

This idea echoes in the words of a lesser-known scripture, Doctrine and Covenants 58:26:

“For behold, it is not meet that I should command in all things; for he that is compelled in all things, the same is a slothful and not a wise servant; wherefore he receiveth no reward.”

By reflecting on the words commanded and suggested, we uncover something powerful about how AA works—and how God works. When we follow a set of suggestions, we engage our divine agency. We are choosing a better life. We are not driven by fear; we are drawn by love, truth, and healing.

Many in AA come to know their Higher Power as God the Father. He invites, but He will not compel. He wants us to come unto Him and be healed. But that healing comes only when we choose it—when we surrender our will and say, “I’m ready.”

As the Big Book says:

“This is the proper use of the will.”

So, are the 12 Steps just suggestions—or are they spiritual direction, time-tested by those who’ve walked the painful path before us? When freely chosen, they become a covenant of transformation.

Voices of Wisdom

William James:

“Our acts, our turning over of our will, is the vital step. Grace works upon us when we are willing to be acted upon.”

Bill Wilson:

“We alcoholics are undisciplined. So we let God discipline us in the simple way we have just outlined.” (Big Book, p. 88)

Epictetus:

“God has entrusted me with myself.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson:

“A man is what he thinks about all day long… The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.”

2 Nephi 2:27 (Book of Mormon):

“Wherefore, men are free… to choose liberty and eternal life… or to choose captivity and death.”

Elder D. Todd Christofferson:

“God intends that His children should act according to the moral agency He has given them…”

Final Reflection

Whether it’s AA, scripture, philosophy, or literature, the message is consistent:

Suggestion is not weakness—it is a sacred invitation.
It’s the honoring of our divine capacity to choose. It’s the quiet voice of grace, asking us to act—not out of force, but out of hope.

Let us not miss that invitation. Let us not reject the dignity of our will. Let us rise and walk—freely—into healing.

You Are a Soul: The Body Is Only the Servant of Our Soul

 

Dear Reader,
I would like to share some thoughts about recovery and a few truths I’ve discovered along the way.

I begin with a quote often attributed to the Buddha and later echoed by spiritual thinkers across time:

“You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.”

This quote reminds me of a lesser-known insight from Father Ed Dowling, spiritual advisor to Bill W., co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous:

“The alcoholic is not a body fighting addiction, but a soul finding its way back to God.”

As I’ve gained emotional growth in the AA program, I’ve come to believe that the craving at the heart of alcoholism can only be satisfied by true spiritual principles—principles of abstinence, fellowship, and service.

As a soul in recovery, in faith, and in fellowship, I’ve come to see that the body is not who I am. It is where I am. And what I do here—through hands, voice, action, and even silence—reflects the condition of the soul that inhabits this body. As Zen Master Dōgen (13th century) wrote:

“The body is not separate from the Way. It is not the vessel of the soul, but the form through which the soul awakens.”

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In early recovery, it was my soul’s desire for a new life that gave my body the strength to go one day—or even one hour—without a drink. It was that connection to the Spirit that helped me change the people, places, and patterns of my life.

I remember the days when my strength failed—when all I had left was prayer. What surprised me was that it was enough. The soul, leaning on God, became the carrier of my broken body, not the other way around. As I now understand:

“We do not carry our souls through life; our souls carry us, even when the body breaks down.”

As the prophet Isaiah promised:

“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength… they shall run, and not be weary.” — Isaiah 40:31

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Later, as I found better health in recovery, I came to see that a healed body is a gift, but a healed soul is a miracle. There is no medicine for shame, no surgery for despair. Yet the healing of the soul—through forgiveness, grace, and spiritual awakening—is the great miracle of recovery. I’ve known this firsthand.

You might ask: How do you measure a soul when it has no volume or shape?

I would answer—not by years, scars, or achievements, but by love. The soul’s purpose is to love: to love God, to love others, and to love ourselves. Every act of service becomes a way of remembering who we truly are.

“…when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”
— Mosiah 2:17

And so it is that we remember this final truth:

“God did not make your soul to serve your body. He gave you a body so your soul could serve the world.”

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Closing Thought

The restored gospel teaches something profound:

“The spirit and the body are the soul of man.” — Doctrine and Covenants 88:15

We are not meant to escape the body or resent it. We are meant to sanctify it—through faith, love, and service—until spirit and body are united in the light of Christ.

When that happens, we are whole.

Step 11 and the Sacred Name of Jesus Christ

 

Dear Reader,

I’d like to reflect on Alcoholics Anonymous Step 11—and how my understanding of a Higher Power has grown into a personal relationship with God, culminating in prayer offered “in the sacred name of Jesus Christ.”

When I first walked through the doors of the Laguna Beach Canyon Club, I had little understanding of God—let alone any idea who Jesus Christ was. Yet, as I heard others speak of prayer, meditation, and spiritual awakening, something stirred. I was told to find a Higher Power of my own understanding. That gave me enough room to start.

The eleventh step reads:
“Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.”

This step invited me to listen more, reach inward, and allow healing to take root. One moment that stands out: while praying and saying, “God bless this person, and that person,” I unexpectedly added, “God bless Mother.” I hadn’t planned to say it. But in that moment, something opened. A burden I didn’t know I carried was lifted. That simple phrase unearthed hidden sorrow and left peace in its place. Such is the quiet, transformative power of prayer.

As time passed, my spiritual path deepened. I became a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And now, I’m learning what it means to pray “in the sacred name of Jesus Christ.”

At first, I found this difficult. I suspect many recovering people do. After all, AA encourages openness to any concept of a Higher Power. Naming Jesus Christ felt like I was narrowing something I had just begun to understand.

But it wasn’t a narrowing—it was a deepening.

Scripture began to speak more clearly to me. In John 1:1 I read, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” And in John 1:14, “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.”

Jesus Christ is that Word—God made flesh. The divine love I had come to know in recovery now had a name, a face, a life lived in service and sacrifice. The Higher Power I first prayed to is not different from the God who sent His Son. My faith is not being replaced. It’s being fulfilled.

Now, when I close my prayers with, “in the sacred name of Jesus Christ,” I do so with reverence and gratitude. It still feels new at times—but it also feels right. It connects the healing power of recovery with the living source of that power: the Savior Himself.

For anyone struggling with the spiritual language of AA or unsure how faith fits into recovery, I say this: be patient. Step 11 is not about changing your beliefs overnight. It’s about growing your conscious contact with God—whoever you understand God to be. In my case, that path led me to Jesus Christ.

And I am grateful.

Fasting from Alcohol: A Sacred View of "one Day at a Time"

Today, I became aware of an enlightened way of looking at the word fasting. One that brings a deeper, more spiritual dimension to the familiar AA phrase, “one day at a time.”

In recovery, we learn that we only need to stay sober today—not forever, not even for this week. Just for today. This daily commitment to not drink becomes our path to freedom. But what if we saw that daily abstention as something more than resistance? What if we understood it as a fast?

Fasting as a Spiritual Offering

Fasting is often thought of in terms of food—voluntarily going without it to focus the mind, purify the soul, or draw closer to God. But at its core, fasting is the act of deliberately giving something up for a higher purpose.

Gandhi understood this. His fasts were not mere political tactics; they were moral declarations. He used his own body as a vessel of protest, saying to the world, “I am willing to suffer for this truth. Will you continue to cause suffering?” His fasts changed public sentiment. They reminded both allies and enemies that transformation comes through sacrifice, not force.

Alcohol and the Daily Fast

If we borrow Gandhi’s lens and apply it to the spiritual journey of recovery, we might say: I am fasting from alcohol today. Not as punishment, but as offering. Each day I abstain—not merely to avoid pain, but to make space for something greater: humility, connection, peace, clarity.

In that way, “one day at a time” becomes more than a coping mechanism. It becomes a sacred rhythm. A daily fast that opens the soul.

A Fast That Frees

The scriptures reinforce this idea. In Isaiah 58:6, God redefines fasting:

“Is not this the fast that I have chosen? To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free?”

This fast isn't just about self-denial. It's about liberation.

And in the Book of Mormon, the prophet Alma testifies:

“Behold, I have fasted and prayed many days that I might know these things of myself. And now I do know of myself that they are true...” (Alma 5:46)

Fasting was a path to truth and personal revelation. Not just going without—but going within.

The Invitation

So perhaps we, too, are invited—not merely to resist alcohol—but to fast from it. To treat each sober day as a sacred pause. A deliberate act of spiritual strength and renewal.

Each day we fast from the bottle, we open our hearts to a greater fullness: the love of God, the support of community, and the growing knowledge that healing is possible.

Not forever. Just for today.

And tomorrow? We’ll fast again.