The God Box

A small man with big hair blew through Hazelden Alcoholic Treatment Center to speak to us. He was an addict-turned-preacher-turned-addict (x 3). He was 68 by the time he got to us. Sober for 15 years.

He brought a psychedelic box with him. He held it under his arm, like a teddy bear, when he spoke. He’d decorated it with paisley wallpaper, red hearts, crosses and comic strips.

He told us his “God Box” kept him sober.

We were skeptical, of course.

He told us that whenever he is tempted to get into trouble (alcohol, money, pills, sex, pride, manipulation, worry) he writes the problem on a small piece of paper and drops it into the Box.

“I give it to God ASAP,” he told us. “I let it go. I give it up. And whenever I find myself taking the problem back and handling it myself, I open the God Box, pull out that piece of paper and tell God, ‘I think I can handle this better than you can’.”

Some of us tried it. We’d find a Kleenex box, or a box from the kitchen. We’d decorate it a little, put our name on it and carry it to meals, to group meetings and to bed. You’d see guys writing, stuffing and unstuffing the Box. I did it for ten days, and I ran pretty clean those days.

One downside to being an alcoholic/addict is believing you can handle everything yourself. But who doesn’t like being in control? The Lone Ranger rides again (and again).

I’m back at it. The God Box. I don’t carry it into restaurants, or everywhere I go. I leave it in the car, or at home. Fifty times a day I’ll let a problem go to God, then take it back. And somewhere in the middle of this endless cycle I pray, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

I have a long way to go, but as my brothers and sisters in Alcoholics Anonymous keep reminding me, “It’s progress, not perfection.”