Crossing the River Jordan

Their voices have stayed with me from childhood years – summer voices singing a campfire verse: “The River Jordan is muddy and wide, milk and honey on the other side. Hallelujah.” They sing truth; they sing hope for those of us who are working our way out of the murky swamp of addictions. Addictions can take one form or many, but our experience of them is always the wasting swamp. The first step to recovery is seeing the swamp and our misery in it. Believing there is a way to reach the land of milk and honey is the second step. We momentarily shift our focus from desperately avoiding the next deadly bog to one brief, clear view across the river. The light from the other side dimly penetrates, bringing with it a tiny beam of sunshine. We want more light. It is there on the other side, but how do we cross the river?

Stop with me for just a moment. Visualize the difference between the two shores. The one in which the addict stands is dark, covered with dense fog. What little can be seen is lifeless. Dead vines reach helter skelter for nothing in particular. Reeds blackened with slime line bogs belching their stink, adding to the ever-present fog that is fueled by isolation and resentment. The river itself is infected by the darkness as it slops against the shoreline. The river is wide. The water remains dark and foreboding until partway across, where a new current is seen. This water dances its way down the river. It is clear, an azure blue through which the sandy river bottom can be seen. It invites a long drink, a cleansing bath. Looking further toward the opposite shore, we see sunlit glades, a paradise of color and warm breezes. There are people on the other shore enjoying its fruits, sharing laughter and welcoming hugs.

While we might pray for a miraculous rescue – some sort of spiritual helicopter to carry us across – that happens so rarely it is hardly worth mentioning. Instead, notice the beauty of the stepping-stones carefully set just the right distance apart to move from one shore to the other without falling in. Having opened our eyes long enough to see the river and the distant shore, we find we have stepped out from the swamp onto the first stone. We really can’t take more than one stone at a time, and we must take them in order, but this is a blessing. While on each stone, we gather the strength and determination to step to the next stone. While on each stone, we can see that, yes, there are a number more to go, but we can also see the number we have already put behind us. While on each stone, we grow inwardly more like the joyful people inhabiting the other shore. While on each stone, we practice our choices – choices that move us toward the sunlit shores – and choices made that move us back toward the dark shore. It is good to occasionally look back to remember that it holds nothing but misery. The further across we step, the more determined we are to always regard and move toward the shore with milk and honey. The experience of these choices between light and dark is part of learning to accept the good already present in us. Step by step, from fear to courage to faith to joy, we cross the River Jordan.

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