Page 230 - The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous

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OUR SOUTHERN FRIEND 215
and a few things that I had wanted to forget. I begin
to see I am not the person I had thought myself, that
I had judged myself by comparing myself to others
and always to my own advantage. It is a shock.
Then comes a thought that is like a voice. “Who
are you to say there is no God?” It rings in my head;
I can’t get rid of it.
I get out of bed and go to the man’s room. He is
reading. “I must ask you a question,” I say to the
man. “How does prayer fit into this thing?”
“Well,” he answers, “you’ve probably tried praying
like I have. When you’ve been in a jam, you’ve said,
‘God, please do this or that,’ and if it turned out your
way that was the last of it, and, if it didn’t, you’ve said
‘There isn’t any God’ or ‘He doesn’t do anything for
me.’ Is that right?”
“Yes,” I reply.
“That isn’t the way,” he continued. “The thing I do
is to say ‘God, here I am and here are all my troubles.
I’ve made a mess of things and can’t do anything about
it. You take me, and all my troubles, and do anything
you want with me.’ Does that answer your question?”
“Yes, it does,” I answer. I return to bed. It doesn’t
make sense. Suddenly I feel a wave of utter hopeless­
ness sweep over me. I am in the bottom of hell. And
there, a tremendous hope is born. It might be true.
I tumble out of bed onto my knees. I know not
what I say. But slowly a great peace comes to me. I
feel lifted up. I believe in God. I crawl back into bed
and sleep like a child.
Some men and women come to visit my friend of the
night before. He invites me to meet them. They are
a joyous crowd. I have never seen people that joyous