The kind of praying I did before I came into program went like this:

God, please do thing X for Person Y before thing Z happens. And please make sure things A, B, and C go exactly how I want. Oh, yeah, and don’t let Person Q find out I lied about that thing the other day. Please let me get my way with Partner Qualifier. And WHATEVER happens, don’t let Thing D happen! Oh, and please spare me from any personal discomfort, or else I’ll resent You forever. Amen.

Just kidding… actually, no. That’s how it was. Thanks for listening to this Step 5 moment.

After I came into program, those prayers continued for awhile. As I worked through Steps 2 and 3, I came to see that my concept of a Higher Power needed work. I had a lot of unhelpful ideas about God.

He was supposed to give me everything I wanted, but there were so many conditions: I had to have enough “faith,” and ask at the right time, in the right way, in the right words, or else. As if my Higher Power were a cross between Santa Claus and an evil genie. In other words, everything depended on me getting it just right.

Notice how that puts me at the center? All my prayers were just another form of control: trying to manipulate my circumstances by making God change people, places and things to suit me.

Not surprisingly, He* stayed pretty quiet. Once in awhile, circumstances lined up and my prayer “worked” (that word says it all). But most of the time, I was left wondering what I’d done wrong. Not enough faith? Bad timing? Pinky finger not held at the correct angle? Lucky socks on the wrong feet?

What my Higher Power isn’t

Steps 2 and 3 helped me see what my Higher Power isn’t. He’s not a fairy godmother granting wishes. He’s not a method. He’s not a means to an end. He’s not my lucky rabbit’s foot, and if I’m smart, he’s Plan A, not Plan B. I started taking Him out of the box–the one labeled “Break Glass In Case Of Emergency”– and started inviting Him to be in charge.

Little by little, one day at a time, my prayers started to change. Along with all the usual selfish requests, some genuine desire to line myself up with God’s will began creeping in. Only because I was miserable, of course! It took awhile for me to believe that God might know how to run my life better than I did.

I wish that were a joke. But yeah, no. It was a genuine revelation that God is, in fact, smarter than I am.

I started asking Him (through clenched teeth) to remove my resentments. I started turning things over to Him, as cautiously and reluctantly as if I might trigger the Apocalypse with one wrong move. I gave Him fewer detailed directions about how, when, and where to do things.

And little by little, miracles started to happen. The misery lifted, ever so slightly. Resentments I’d held for years faded. Letting go of things did not cause the Earth to fall out of its orbit. Saying “Thy will be done” felt less and less dangerous.

Changing the things I can

Those little changes added up to a profound shift: I stopped asking God to change people, places, and things, and started asking Him to change me.

The details of my life are no problem to my Higher Power. He is never hampered or frustrated by my circumstances. They’re His tools. He’s not struggling with them, any more than Mario Andretti sweats it driving to the corner store or Joshua Bell struggles to play Happy Birthday on his violin.

So when I ask Him to change my alcoholics, my feelings, or my situation, I’m resisting the very things He’s using to remove my defects and make me useful to Him.

That resistance, 99% of the time, causes most of my pain on any given day. Acceptance is the answer, as the Big Book says. Not an easy answer. But it’s the only answer that keeps me from being Totally Freaking Crazy.

Page 94 of Dilemma of the Alcoholic Marriage asks, “Have I prayed for the alcoholic’s sobriety and meditated on the alcoholic’s faults, thus keeping my prayer and meditation on a level at which nothing can change for me?” I need to ask myself that question every day.

All my prayers asking God to change him, her, them, or that? That’s me stuck on Step One: not admitting my own powerlessness. I want God to follow my orders. I want Him to open that stuck door, when I don’t even know what’s behind it.

And the truth? Even if God changed everything to suit me, I’d still be unhappy. My misery is caused by my character defects. Period!

Beg, borrow, steal

Learning this new way of praying came slowly. My sponsor helped by suggesting a simple four-word prayer: “Bless them, change me.” I’d had that backwards my whole life, for sure.

At this point I became friends with a double winner who introduced me to the AA Big Book prayers for each Step. I was skeptical at first of praying “canned” prayers, which shows how spiritually stunted I was.

I grew up in a religious tradition that emphasized free-form, personal prayer–improv, if you will. How can it be your prayer if it’s not your own words? Isn’t that like reading God a script? How is He gonna know what I want?

Ha, ha. That’s kind of the whole point.

I’d never heard anyone pray a scripted prayer, and I had some prejudices to overcome. Then I tried actually praying those prayers. And they really, really helped.

When I don’t know what to pray–when self-will is getting in the way and raw feelings are sticking out all over–pouring myself into those words helps channel my will in the right direction. Towards God, and away from me.

The best prayers are the shortest:

• Be with me now.
• Your will be done.
• Help!
• Thanks!
• I need You.
• Be my peace.
• Be my strength.
• Be my light.
• Be my __________ (fill in the blank with whatever you need in that moment: serenity, sanity, rest, sanctuary, joy…)
• Stay close by me.
• Bless them, change me.
• Show me the way.
• Use me.

A single word or phrase can channel a lot of emotion and bring me back to center quick. And it’s easier to remember when I’m losing my mind. There’s a zero percent chance I’ll remember the whole Prayer of St. Francis when all my feelings flare. A three-word prayer, with some grace, I can do.

“Lord, make this go away!” is a prayer that it might not be in my best interest for Him to grant. I can ask, but I better not hang my happiness on it, because I might be asking Him to put away the tools He’s using to help me grow.

“Lord, make me someone You can use,” brings my loud, messy self-will back in line with His. That’s where I can have a shot at a good life, if I’ll take it. (Thanks, Larcine!)

Got a favorite short and simple prayer that helps you? Share it in the comments!

Keep coming back!

*I use the traditional pronoun, capitalized, because that’s my current understanding of my Higher Power. If that offends you, you might want to talk to your sponsor about that.