Surrendering the Rescue Mission

Finding peace by letting go of a higher power and learning to show up for myself.

Photo by Theodor Sykes on Unsplash

“He was twenty-six years old when one day on a hunting expedition, the time for sleep having come, he set himself to pray according to the custom he had held from childhood. His brother, who was hunting with him, lay upon the hay and looked at him. When S. had finished his prayer and was turning to sleep, the brother said, ‘Do you still keep up that thing?’ Nothing more was said. But since that day, now more than thirty years ago, S. has never prayed again; he never takes communion, and does not go to church. All this, not because he became acquainted with convictions of his brother which he then and there adopted; not because he made any new resolution in his soul, but merely because the words spoken by his brother were like the light push of a finger against a leaning wall already about to tumble by its own weight. These words but showed him that the place wherein he supposed religion dwelt in him had long been empty, and that the sentences he uttered, the crosses and bows which he made during his prayer, were actions with no inner sense. Having once seized their absurdity, he could no longer keep them up.” — Leo Tolstoy, A Confession

In October of 2021, I requested a one-on-one meeting with a gentleman to whom I can comfortably attribute a huge part of my sobriety today. At the time, however, I found him rather arrogant and a tad bit distasteful. But he was nearly three decades sober, and I was in the middle of a massive existential crisis — not the meme kind people make jokes about — so I figured he had to have something I needed to hear.

We sat down, and I went straight to the point: “How do you work this program as an atheist?”

See, as beautiful as the 12 steps have been at creating a blank canvas through their ambiguity regarding what is considered “spiritual,” it’s also hard to overlook the fact that those twelve steps were adapted from the six tenets of a very Christian group in the early 1900s. Marrying this with what he usually echoed on multiple occasions — “You don’t need God to work this program” — was rather difficult.

He first explained that he doesn’t say that to disrespect others and their faith. Rather, he says it to keep newcomers who desperately need the program from doing a U-turn when they’re inevitably having trouble with the “God idea.”

We ran through his interpretation of the steps, especially those that heavily implied the role of God, and many of those principles I still keep with me to this day. “If it’s not practical, it’s not spiritual.”

There was one thing that stuck out more than anything else for me, though. In his first five years of recovery, he was desperate enough to do anything for relief. He was told to pray, so he did. He was told to believe in God, and he did. But around the five-year mark of his journey, he couldn’t bury the inauthenticity of it all anymore and began owning his atheism.

The reason that stuck out is that within these circles, the narrative arc is generally one of being drawn closer to your God or Higher Power, not the other way around.

Nearly five years on from that conversation, and after years of different spiritual practices, reading, courses, conversations with various priests, podcasts, audiobooks, and a lot of praying, I too have found myself pulling further away from God. Or, at least, my old idea of God.

“No one is coming to save you; no one is coming to make life right for you; no one is coming to solve your problems. If you don’t do something, nothing is going to get better. The dream of a rescuer who will deliver us may offer a kind of comfort, but it leaves us passive and powerless. We may feel if only I suffer long enough, if only I yearn desperately enough, somehow a miracle will happen, but this is the kind of self-deception one pays for with one’s life as it drains away into the abyss of unredeemable possibilities and irretrievable days, months, decades.” — Nathaniel Branden

There’s a term, Deus Ex Machina, which translates to “god from the machine.” It comes from the literal staging and live performances of ancient Greek tragedies. When an actor played the role of a god like Zeus or Athena, they were mechanically lowered down onto the stage to magically resolve the plot. Hence the term.

For multiple reasons that culminated in my ultimate life experience, this was the God I grew to believe in. One who would swoop in and save me. Over a decade of therapy and nearly seven years in 12-step groups had made it clear (at the very least on a cognitive level) that I was not God, and neither was any other human being. Therefore, “enlisting a power greater than myself” was necessary. I needed a God to save me.

Now, I’ve heard a lot of inspirational tales in churches, but even more so in 12-step groups. I’ve heard about massive turnarounds in people’s lives who attribute it all to God, and they will live and die by that belief. It is not my place to take anything away from them. Their experiences are exactly that: theirs.

Mine, unfortunately, doesn’t match up, and I think over six years is a good enough sample size.

“Humility tells us that no one is coming. No material object and no special person outside us is going to make our lives better. To make our lives better, we must surrender our expectations and show up for ourselves. To get our lives unstuck, we must give up being passive and relinquish the belief that life should be generous or gracious or that some fairy godmother is going to come along and turn a pumpkin into a carriage for us.” — Dr. Allen Berger

I read this and flash right back to the numerous nights — especially recently — spent on my knees, sobbing uncontrollably, begging for some relief. And getting nothing. Many can attest to how “prayer works,” and again, that’s their experience. I, however, struggle to relate. For every answered prayer, there are multiple instances of radio silence, or even the worst possible outcome going on to happen regardless.

So, I figured God’s will is God’s will regardless of whatever formal request I submit. Maybe my attention and energy should shift toward actually equipping myself to navigate through these things, instead of waiting for a Deus Ex Machina.

“If there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life.” — Albert Camus

The first time I read about Albert Camus’ idea of philosophical suicide, I balked. And even that is an understatement. I thought it came from an arrogant intellectual high ground of sorts. But now, I see it as a call to make the best of what life gives me right now, in the present, as opposed to putting my eggs in a basket in the form of a tomorrow which may or may not come.

I’ve come to a conclusion very recently: false hope is not just tragic; it can rip one’s entire world apart. Unfortunately, that conclusion came from multiple of my own experiences. Camus believed that life, in its very nature, is absurd. But he also believed that one should rebel by making the best of it nonetheless. And right now, I can get behind that.

“By oneself is evil done; by oneself is one defiled. By oneself is evil left undone; by oneself is one made pure. Purity and impurity depend on oneself; no one can purify another.” — The Dhammapada, Verse 165

“If you look to others for fulfillment, you will never truly be fulfilled. If your happiness depends on money, you will never be happy with yourself. Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.” — Tao Te Ching, Chapter 44

Buddhism, Taoism, and other Eastern philosophies have grown on me for years now. I appreciate them and their various texts for one main reason: practicality. Cause and effect. The focus is on being within oneself. There is a path, and if you choose to follow it (which you’re absolutely free to do), just be ready to deal with the consequences. Not because of an angry deity, but because that’s how cause and effect works. The path itself isn’t about salvation or being saved; it’s just about picking the path of least resistance when it comes to the ebb and flow of life.

So when I lie in bed, plagued by anxiety and suicidal ideation, and I just want out, I make a choice. Instead of fiercely begging to be pulled out, I opt to self-regulate and make the best of what I already have. I don’t have money to feed me for the week? Well, let’s see how I can make it stretch so I can at least eat for a few days.

This quote from Epictetus wraps it up beautifully:

“Do not seek for things to happen as you wish, but wish for things to happen as they do happen. And you will go on well. Do not wish that your children should live, or that your wife should not die, or that your brother should not go away; but wish that everything should happen as it does happen. And you will be happy.” — Epictetus, The Enchiridion

The mental and emotional resources I’ve poured into “having faith” that my miracle will come and I just need to hold on are insane. I have found myself holding on to the cliff edge like Mufasa, and anyone who has seen the movie knows what happened to him.

Perhaps it’s time to pivot away from that. As frightening as the realization that “no one is coming” can be, it increasingly feels like the time has finally come to brave that.

Khothatso Moshodi explores the intersections of philosophy, psychology, and the human condition. To support my independent work, you can buy me a coffee over on Ko-fi.