As they entered the meeting room, everyone present clapped and cheered, like they were welcoming a couple of rock stars.
But they weren’t celebrities; they were simply two young men who months ago admitted they had a problem and decided to do something about it.
Now they were graduating from the program at CenterPoint Recovery Center in Paducah, Ky. This was a milestone for both of them.
“Hi, I’m Levi, and I’m an alcoholic,” the one first one began.
“Hi, Levi,” the crowd responded.
He then thanked all those who had helped him through the past months to get to the place where he had come that day, a good place, although the journey wasn’t over. But this was a significant marker along the way. With every expression of gratitude, Levi was met with several “yeahs” or “huh-uhs,” and laughter—plenty of laughter.
“Hi, I’m Harrison, and I’m an alcoholic,” the next one started.
Now, this second one is our son, and more than a few times, over the past several years, I had wondered if he would ever get to this point—not just to the completion of a recovery program but to even admitting he had a problem with drug/alcoholic abuse.
“Hi, I’m Harrison, and I’m alcoholic.” I didn’t have time for the words to sink in; it was the first time I had heard him say the words, although I recognized that day he had spoken them many times before in meeting after meeting over the past seven months.
“You don’t want to become a connoisseur of rehabs,” I had warned him at least once. But something about this particular place had clicked with Harrison. Maybe it was Ms. Thelma, the caring but no-nonsense director, or Theresa, the nurse, who had looked after Harrison, “like he’s my own son,” or perhaps it was Josh, the sponsor, who had taken Harrison in during the holidays when we couldn’t be there, or maybe it was Sammie, the resident dog there, who had “taken” to Harrison.
No doubt, they all had a powerful effect on Harrison’s success to this point, but both of the men graduating that day had to make a choice themselves about what they would do, and as they spoke, it became evident that virtually all the residents (referred to as clients) had contributed to their recovery. These men, the clients, were from various walks of life: a lawyer, a college professor, a chef, a mechanic, students, and ones who had trouble ever holding any kind of job. But there, in that place, they were all the same, even though they were all different. They were pulling together to help each other overcome their common problem: addiction.
And even though this was a milestone for the two that day, the battle was and is far from over for them, as well as for the all the others, regardless of how long or how short their stay had been then at CenterPoint.
I thought of a man named Harold, probably in his sixties, sober for several decades now, who, as an employee at CenterPoint, had been there to help us check Harrison in those seven months ago.
“Every day I wake up and know I have a problem,” he said, matter of factly. “And I know I can do something about it,” I remember him saying.
I was struck by his admission that after all those years the reality of the struggle was there, facing him every day, as well the certainty of hope. And he had to make a choice. I noticed his wrist band bearing the words: “God’s got this.”
Glancing around the room that graduation day, listening to a man lead in a prayer at the start of the meeting, I thought of the words of one of my heroes, the Apostle Paul, writing to a group of messed up people in a city named Corinth, admonishing them to remember who they were in Jesus Christ: “Not many were wise from a human perspective, not many powerful, not many of noble birth.”
Through such as these, God seems to work best.
As several of the clients in the program at CenterPoint offered donuts to us at the close of the meeting, I sensed something strangely familiar, something that made me smile and feel warm inside, even though I couldn’t name what it was.
The smell of the donuts?
No, that wasn’t it.
But something was there, there indeed, and as I continued to take it in, I grinned even more until I almost broke out in joyous laughter, still not knowing why.
The scent wafted through the crowd as the men mingled about the room.
It was unmistakable.
Ah, yes, I should have known.
The aroma of Christ.