I haven’t been to an AA meeting in over 12 years, but at my rock bottom AA was the ‘church’ that saved my life, and more than once, and in more than one way.
In an 11-month period in 2003-2004, I attended 159 AA meetings in various locations around my city, and called two particular meetings my ‘home’ meetings. The Mandurah Steps group met on a Wednesday night. My sponsor, a burly bloke named, Mick, was secretary of that meeting. And the Thursday night Kwinana Town group meeting was the place I eventually became secretary. I served in that role for six months until I felt led by God to ‘graduate’ from AA and go it alone at Mandurah Baptist Church, where I had already been accepted into leadership. I mention these details simply to hone into the role of secretary.
What of the best things about AA is its lack of power base.
Everyone is genuinely equal, but those with a long history of sobriety, whilst they don’t have power, command respect for what they’ve achieved, one day at a time. Nobody goes to AA thinking they’ve got their life under control. Everyone who enters those halls knows they’re in trouble, or they know they need it, to keep coming that is.
This accounts for egos. There is really no place for egos at AA, because it seems that everybody already secretly knows that ‘ego’ is a sign of weakness, of insecurity. No, AA is the place to be insecure, to show and to share your insecurities, and not to hide them.
I have never been in a church quite like AA for its ability to encourage its members to behave honestly and in humility. AA is a place where there is no need to have everything together. Indeed, any masquerade would likely draw sharp suspicion, but in that a certain resignation that the one holding the mask is on their journey, and to be gentle with them in speaking truth. There is no place for BS at AA. All good recovery programs bear this feature.
As secretary, I would arrive early to set up, to turn the lights on, to get the urns out and fill them, to arrange the cups and the biscuits, the tea and coffee, having bought the milk fresh. I would place the banners out, and ensure there were enough tables and chairs set out to seat the 20-30 people who would attend weekly, and then open the doors and greet people as they walked in. It was also my job to pick the chairperson for the night. Everyone got a turn. The chairperson would read through How It Works and the Twelve Traditions. They would also ask those in attendance to take turns to share their stories for up to 10 minutes. It may not seem long, but you can share a lot of your testimony in 10 minutes. Once the meeting had finished, I would pack everything away, clean up, turn the lights out, lock up and leave. I loved it!
The role of the secretary, as the group’s leader, was to serve.
Leadership was in the serving.
Leadership was in the serving.
It was AA that taught me the value of service, not the church.
It was AA that also taught me the value of unity, not the church. My experience is a sharp distinction between unity in AA and unity in the church. What unifies AAs is the common bond of addiction and sobriety. What AAs have in common is all that really matters to them: sobriety, the steps, recovery, unity, support when needed, and meetings that serve to add structure to their lives.
What do people who go to a church have in common? Well, if you are going to compare church to AA, you would have to say that attendees of a church have sin in common.
Imagine if church was a place where sinners could be sinners. Where there was no judgement. Where there was no pressure to be perfect. Where there was encouragement to be honest, where acceptance and celebration occurred when vulnerability was expressed. Where speaking about sin was commonplace, but also where such speech was redemptive, empowering, reviving, where sin was spoken of in ways that bred humility and dependence on God.
Imagine the church stripped of the pressure to achieve, or perform wonderful worship services, or brilliantly revolutionary sermons that went viral on the Internet. Imagine the church devoid of the need to impress with fancy multi-million-dollar facilities. Imagine a body of believers intrinsically connected to Jesus and not disconnected to the Fellowship of the Spirit because of a thousand different idols that crowd churches these days.
This article could easily be read as me criticising the church. On the contrary, it’s the church that could be the best place to bring these qualities to bear. To be a safe place. To be a place where sin is commonly spoken about in non-judgemental ways. Where sin is the common standard of humanity. Where struggles are shared, and burdens are halved. And where the grace of God that forgives our sin is magnified. I do thank and praise God for the many churches around the world that do operate this way.
Over one hundred times at AA meetings I have said, “Hi everyone, I’m Steve and I’m an alcoholic.” Wouldn’t it be great if we greeted each other in church in the same way, saying, “Hello, I’m Steve and I’m a sinner.” Imagine if we kept this part about us central; that we’re flawed and liable to be wrong. Imagine the beautiful conversations that would take place where my sin is at the forefront of my interacting with you, and where your sin is at the forefront of your interacting with me. There would be far less narcissism and far more compassion and empathy.
It’s not only our sin that unifies us, but God’s grace that pardons us. The more we focus on the issues of sin and grace bilaterally, the more we’re unified in a commonality of purpose and oneness, and blessed to serve with delight.
Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash
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