He is not the same man I was trying to twelfth-step. I failed in all my efforts to help the man I knew. And then Someone else provided a new man.
Bernardsville, New Jersey
FIGURE OF EVIL
It happened about three in the morning. I had been in our Fellowship slightly less than a year. I was alone in the house, my third wife having divorced me prior to my entry into A.A. I awoke with a frightening sense of approaching death. I was trembling and almost paralyzed with fear. Although it was in the month of August in Southern California, I was so cold that I found a heavy blanket and draped it around my shoulders. Then I turned on the floor heater in the living room and stood directly over it, trying to get warm. Instead of getting warm, I began to feel numb all over and again felt death approaching.
I had not been a very religious person, nor had I become affiliated with any church after coming into A.A. But suddenly I said to myself, “If ever I needed to pray, now is the time.” I returned to the bedroom and fell to my knees at the side of the bed. I closed my eyes, buried my face in the palms of my hands, and rested my hands on the bed. I have forgotten all the words I said out loud, but I do recall saying, “Please, God, teach me to pray!”
Then, without raising my head or opening my eyes, I was able to “see” the entire floor plan of the house. And I could “see” a giant of a man standing on the other side of the bed, arms folded across his chest. He was glaring at me with a look of intense hatred and malevolence. He was the epitome of everything evil. After about ten seconds, I “saw” him slowly turn around, walk to the bathroom and look inside, turn to the second bedroom and look into it, walk to the living room and gaze around, then leave the house by way of the kitchen door.
I remained in my original position of prayer. Simultaneously with his departure, there seemed to be coming toward me from all directions, from the infinite reaches of space, a vibrating, pulsating, magnetic current. In probably fifteen seconds, this tremendous power reached me, stayed for some five seconds, and then slowly withdrew to its origin. But the sense of relief given me by its presence beggars description. In my clumsy way, I thanked God, got into bed, and slept like a baby.
I have not had the desire for a drink of anything intoxicating since that memorable morning twenty-three years ago. In my years in our Fellowship, I have had the privilege of hearing one other member describe an experience almost exactly like mine. Did the departure from my house of the personification of evil symbolize the departure from my life of the evils embraced by alcoholism, as some think? Be that as it may, the other part of my experience symbolizes to me the all-powerful and cleansing love of a Higher Power, whom I have since become happy to call God.
San Diego, California
DROWNING
Before my commitment to a state alcoholic center, I had had a dry stint in Alcoholics Anonymous. I know now that I had gone to A.A. to save my marriage, job, and liver, though no one could have convinced me at the time that I hadn’t sought A.A. with all the proper motives. In seven months, my liver got well, and I got drunk for six weeks, winding up at the center.
On my eighth night there, I knew that I was dying. I was so weak that I could hardly breathe; my breath came in little gasps, quite far apart. If a drink had been put within an inch of my hand, I wouldn’t have had the strength to take it. For the first time in my life, I was backed into a corner that I could not fight, cheat, lie, steal, or buy my way out of. I was trapped. For the first time in my life, I uttered a sincere prayer: “God, please help me.” I didn’t bargain with Him, nor did I suggest how or when He should help.
Immediately, I became calm and relaxed. There was no flash of lightning or clap of thunder, not even a still, small voice. I was scared. I didn’t know what had happened. But I went to sleep and slept all night. When I awakened the next morning, I was refreshed, strong, and hungry. But the most wonderful thing was that, for the first time in my life, that dark, mysterious cloud of fear was gone. My first thought was to write to my wife about this experience, and I did. Imagine being able to write a letter after the condition I had been in the night before!
I am sure that some would classify this experience as an example of “letting go and letting God.” Not this self-willed character! I had held on to the thin strand of my will until it just snapped, and then I was caught up by the “everlasting arms.” I had to be rendered helpless, just like a drowning man who fights his rescuer.
I returned to A.A., but I was reluctant for a long time to tell of my experience. I was afraid that no one would believe me and that they would laugh. Later, I learned that others had had similar experiences.
A spiritual experience, I think, is what God does for a man when the man is completely helpless to do it for himself. A spiritual awakening is what a man does through his willingness to have his life transformed by following a proven program of spiritual growth, and this is a never-ending venture.
Raleigh, North Carolina
| PRAYER | 3 |
| In A.A. we have found that the actual good results of prayer are beyond question. They are matters of knowledge and experience. All those who have persisted have found strength not ordinarily their own. They have found wisdom beyond their usual capability. And they have increasingly found a peace of mind which can stand firm in the face of difficult circumstances. | |
| Bill W. | |
| “Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions,” page 104 | |
INFINITE NEED
In practice, I have always found it rather difficult to let Allah’s superior and flawless will prevail in my life and govern my will. However, when I make humble efforts, serenely accepting His will for me at some moment in my life, I feel absolutely relieved of the load I have carried on my shoulders. The mind does not wander any more, and the heart is full of happiness at every breath I take.
The most wonderful thing I have discovered is that prayer does work. I am beginning to think of Allah as a most loving Creator who is specially interested in me—otherwise, He would not have led me to A.A. nor given me so many chances to come out of slips. He is patient and merciful.
Although a moral inventory and a daily inventory reveal myriads of flaws in our makeups, still we, as human beings, cannot unravel all our liabilities in the personality. So at night, when I offer thanks to Him for the day’s sobriety, I add a prayer: I ask Him to forgive my failings during the day, to help me to improve, and to grant me the wisdom to discover those faults in myself which I cannot lay my finger on.
In short, the need for prayer is infinite!
Karachi, Pakistan
MORE THAN A SYMBOL
In the not-too-distant days of my drunken past, when locomotion was failing and consciousness was fading, I would always manage to get at least one knee on the floor before I fell into bed. This gesture was accompanied by a mumbled “God, I’m checking in. I’m drunk.” I tell this, not to elicit praise for having kept an outward vestige of the faith I knew as a child, but because I want to show the deep entrenchment of a symbol after the meaning was gone.
When my life was mercifully turned around and I threw in my lot with A.A.—because I could not do otherwise and live—a new prayer took the place of the old one. Monotonously, almost every moment when I was alone, I repeated, “God, please restore me to sanity.”
And