My sobriety is contingent on “spiritual maintenance,” not a cure or fix. It is maintenance, it is never finished.
There is a game, “If you were a car, what kind of car would you be?” Let me play that game.
When I started the 12-Step Program created by Alcoholics Anonymous, I was an old piece of junk. The tires were bald, so I would skid and slide in bad weather. The engine burned more oil than gas; I was blowing plumes of blue smoke. The muffler was shot, so I was noisy and irritating. The brakes were worn out, and my inability to stop or slow down caused excitement in the parking lot. The windshield was cracked, so my vision of the world was obscured. The upholstery was ruined, and the springs poking through the fabric were uncomfortable.
Let’s imagine a program of maintenance on my metaphorical car.
Working on each defect, I discovered that one repair led to another. The first step in my maintenance program was the motor. I repaired it. However, more power was passed to the transmission once the engine was repaired, and with the added power, the defects in the transmission became apparent, with much grinding and gnashing of gears. At first, I denied that there was a problem, but eventually it seized up. So the transmission was next on the maintenance schedule.
With a properly maintained engine and transmission, I had a lot more get-up-and-go, but the brakes were worn out. After I plowed into a couple of other cars, I fixed the brakes. With motor, transmission, and brakes maintained, I was capable of highway speeds, but now I needed new tires.
And so it went.
Each maintenance step showed the next problem needing attention, but by degrees, the car was improved. With continuous maintenance and work, the wreck became a serviceable vehicle. I could get around town safely and securely. Driving was fun again.
And the work would continue—rust and wear and tear are part of owning a car—but a good maintenance program will keep the car running. And I will learn lessons in maintenance, like catching defects when I see them. Dealing with a maintenance issue earlier rather than later is easier. If I wait to start the next repair in the maintenance program, the problems will get bigger, not better.
As I think of my spiritual maintenance program, the metaphorical wreck of a car is my original spiritual life. I was slipping and sliding, creating damage and harm as I caromed around the roads of life.
And so I drive, down the road of Happy Destiny, improving all the way.
