Groundwork

Foundations matter. Whether you’re designing a cottage in the woods or a castle on a cliff, the best building materials in the world can’t make up for a shoddy base. This is why the first six weeks of Re:Generation recovery, called Groundwork, are so crucial.

The ten-minute daily lessons felt painfully basic to me. I could have written this, I muttered, …but operating my way has landed me in recovery, so I should probably just pipe down and do the work. While I prided myself on correct doctrine, God employed elementary anchoring phrases to grab hold of my heart throughout the day. After spending years studying from spiritual giants, I was now clinging to what looked like kindergarten exercises. Where was the depth I craved, the mastery that brought comfort? I’ve known from a young age that God uses the simple things of the world to shame the wise, but He seemed to enjoy doing so with me. 

As a professional Christian, I remember feeling offended at the reading during the first couple of weeks; I was being lumped in with addicts and abusers! Yes, please imagine me clutching my pearls. (Confessing this is so embarrassing.) It would take months for me to finally recognize Jesus gently but persistently suggesting that I belonged here—I was addicted to my own ability and abusive of His grace, not by requiring more of it than most people, but by hating my need for it at all.    

Daily lessons unfolded, and the seeming lack of intellectual depth invited the possibility of emotional depth. Groundwork provided room for me to replace frantically performing with authentically wrestling. If I could expect to get out of this process what I put into it, I might as well give it my all. I marked up the book like there was no tomorrow. I argued with it. I cried over it. The very second day of material is called “God Loves You,” and although my world had been built upon that premise, I finally allowed myself to ask some hard questions—even questions that felt dangerous. Did He love me? Could I let Him love me?

This surrender of my lifelong assumptions was not at all what my brain wanted, but it was precisely what my heart needed. For the first time ever, I quit guarding the walls of right answers that I’d carefully built for my own safety, and Jesus was on the other side, kindly removing one brick after another. He was preparing me, through the straightforward truths of Groundwork, to begin unlearning broken patterns that years of theological training had left untouched. 

Here are three of my favorite concepts from the first six weeks:

Rigorous honesty

Rigorous honesty is speaking the truth with no wiggle room. It is a commitment to thoroughness and to not blurring the truth. As you are freed from protecting the past, you then can begin moving forward, honestly recovering your day-to-day thoughts and actions.

Week 2, Day 5

My best defense has always been a good offense. I filtered my appearance to the world, concealing this unflattering detail or that incriminating tidbit. The less I showed of the real me, I reasoned, the safer I would be from judgment, so I worked hard to hide what I couldn’t fix. But now the game was changing from “Be a good girl” to “Tell on yourself.” Ew. For decades, I had actively maneuvered to avoid the dreaded, “I’M TELLING!!!” And now I was supposed to beat everybody to the punch? Jesus showed me that rigorous honesty was the opposite of tattling as a child: one was by another person and intended to get me into trouble, and the other was by myself and intended to get me out of trouble. My heart is a mess, and the sooner I bring it into the light, the sooner He can put it right.

The gift of desperation

While uncertain if we could ever truly recover, [many of us] showed up at Re:Generation anyway, and our desperation made us willing to do whatever was asked of us. Desperation combined with willingness propelled us forward … God brings new life to those who are desperate enough to trust and follow Him.

Week 6, Day 1

Well, if desperation is a good thing, cool, because I have loads of it. At least now I know it can be put to some use. Despite wishing I could be drawn into the presence of Jesus through a sense of sheer longing, I am a creature of necessity. And, as such, I find myself seldom ready for the presence of Jesus before reaching my pain threshold. But, oh, when enough is enough, there is an awkward giving up of resistance, and glorious movement occurs. Down with my damnable pride that treasures the appearance of goodness above actually being healthy! Only at rock bottom am I willing to release the shackles of managing my own image. What a gift it is to see my precious ego in light of reality—not as the mighty savior it pretends to be, but as the silly, ugly, twisted jailer to whom I give so much power.

Focus on the next right step

Do you overthink matters to the point where you experience ‘analysis paralysis?’ Too often we want to be certain of a final outcome before we take the risk of a first step; or, to protect ourselves, we set conditions before we are willing to take the next step … Sometimes when you’re stuck in recovery (or life), you may just need to move past ‘thinking’ and start ‘doing’ what God says … He wants to heal you. So let God take care of the outcome, and instead, focus on what is directly in front of you, and keep doing ‘the next right thing.’

Week 2, Day 4

My particular blend of perfectionistic anxiety covets all the details. This, obviously, is the exact opposite of what I am called to do—live by faith, not by sight. When Jesus withholds a clear view of what’s ahead, I sit down and consider the options. Does that sound wise? Not in this context. I already know what He is asking of me; I’m just trying to guarantee my safety before obeying. Choosing to be faithful and faith-full for this moment, though difficult, trounces the flesh that has called the shots for so long. In cruciform rebellion against what pleases my logic, I’m learning to lean hard into the present—not where my shame wants to plant me (the past) or where my control wants me to fixate (the future). Simply being right here, right now, with my Shepherd.

In the same way a sturdy structure requires a solid base, journeying toward freedom called for a clean sweep of the debris from my previous kingdom. As a foretaste of glory, the Lord began making all things new in me. Groundwork proved to be the messy but satisfying period of major demolition used to prepare me for a growing awareness of, affection for, and friendship with Jesus, the only firm foundation.