addiction

Conversations About a Dog Collar – a BBC Pause for Thought

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Here’s the text for the 31 March 2025 “Pause for Thought” I offered on the Breakfast Show with Scott Mills on BBC Radio 2. Listen here.

St. Patrick’s Day was a fortnight ago, but I still have memories of childhood warnings: “if you don’t wear green, leprechauns will sneak up and pinch you!”

I’ve not had any leprechaun-issues lately, but I sometimes wear a piece-of-clothing that does attract attention. My clergy dog-collar – the white-strip-of-plastic around my neck that announces: “I’m a minister; come talk to me!”

And people do. I can’t tell you the number of women and men who’ve sidled up to me, with suggestive grins, and whispered: “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

I guess we all have our types.

What I don’t love about wearing my collar is how people tidy themselves up around me, in false ways. Someone will cuss, for example, then apologise. I’m like, “Please. It doesn’t bother me. Jesus cusses in the Bible, so just talk like you talk”.

What I do love about wearing my collar is how strangers sometimes trust me with what-they’re-going-through. Their big questions about love, tragedy, life’s purpose. On the train recently someone asked me: does everything happen for a reason? I said: I think so, but the reason’s not always God: sometimes it’s a war-mongering dictator or the simple-fact that we humans can occasionally be muppets.

In addition to being a Christian minister, I love being a member of the 12-step-addiction-recovery-community. Together we wrestle with life’s challenges. As people of many faiths and none, we search for a sober spirituality. In Alcoholics-Anonymous, I don’t wear my dog-collar. I’m there as an addict-among-addicts, in need of help as much as I offer it.

The wisdom of 12-step-community says that our problem isn’t merely the stuff we’re addicted to – be it alcohol, edibles, porn, sex, shopping, our social-media-feed. Our problem is actually much deeper: it’s a spiritual problem, we believe, and to be healed, we need a spiritual solution: God, a Higher-Power.

But the genius of 12-step-community is that no specific-higher-power is mandated. We’re invited to discover the God-of-our-own-understanding, who might be found in Church or Sea-Swimming or Science or Solitude – or all of the above.

The only strong suggestion I’d offer for that divine treasure hunt, whether we’re addicts or not, is to choose a higher-power who isn’t an Old-Jackass, or a Violent-Tyrant, or a Sneaky-Leprechaun – because Lord knows those kinds of false-gods never helped anybody get free.

And if you’re searching for a loving, freeing God – but haven’t found them yet – don’t worry, you’re very welcome to borrow mine, for as long as you need.

What’s your spirituality cocktail? – a BBC Pause for Thought

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Here’s the text for the 25 November 2024 “Pause for Thought” I offered on the Breakfast Show with Zoe Ball on BBC Radio 2. Listen here.

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I’m a great bartender. Which may be surprising to hear from a recovering alcoholic like me. It’s definitely not a suggestion for anybody else, especially anyone in the early days of dealing with an addiction.

But one of the gifts of long-term sobriety for me is not only that I don’t drink anymore, it’s that I don’t even want to drink anymore. The desire has been removed, the compulsion has been relieved – for about 15 years now, which is a true miracle, given the relationship I used to have with alcohol and drugs. Thank you, God.

In sobriety, I once bartended at a friend’s Christmas party, and I was wearing my clergy dog-collar that night, which set the scene for all kinds of jokes. But also for a few honest confessions – and a load of amazing conversations.

People ordered drinks and while I poured them, if it felt right, I’d say: “So you’re drinking a Manhattan tonight, or a Martini or an Old Speckled Hen, but tell me about your favourite spirituality cocktail.”

“What do you mean?” they’d say.

“Well, for example, my spirituality cocktail is one part trail-running, one part Alcoholics-Anonymous, two parts Jesus, with a heavy splash of drum-and-bass music. What about you? How do you connect spiritually, however you understand or don’t understand God?”

And throughout the evening, people of different faiths and none gathered around the bar and astonished me with their answers – full of joy, hope, humour. So much fun.

On my spirituality podcast, I recently asked an agnostic guest what her spirituality cocktail was. She paused and said: “Gin and tonic”. Gin for the mystery and belonging and wonder in life. Tonic for the doubts and searching and bleakness. “But it’s all spiritual,” she said.

God, I love that. It’s all spiritual.

The festive season is here, y’all. Radio2 switches on the Christmas music this morning and I say: bring it on.

But alongside the parties and pantos, mince-pies and carol-sings, let’s consider our spirituality cocktails this season. Whether we’re lifting a glass or trying to put down the bottle, I believe God is nearer to every-single-one-of-us than we can imagine, closer even than our own breathing. God, the Sharer of our longing, and Source of our wonder. So pull up a chair to the bar, to the table, and let’s lean in together.

My Biggest Temptation: a BBC “Pause for Thought”

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Here’s the text for the 19 Feb 2021 “Pause for Thought” I offered on the Early Breakfast Show with Jane Middlemiss on BBC Radio 2. You can listen to the audio clip here on the BBC website.

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The first time I went to a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, I was doing research for a sermon on addiction. From my own experience of active alcoholics in my family, I expected to hear a load of whingeing and blaming other people for their problems. 

But this meeting felt different. Laughter filled the room. I was welcomed, given a coffee. Someone helped me find a seat.  

The meeting started with celebrating sober anniversaries. One guy said, it’s been hard but today it’s a year without a drink. And the crowd clapped and whistled.

Other folks said: it’s been 90 days, or it’s a decade, or today I’ve got a week sober.

I could feel a lump forming in my throat. 

Then people told deeper stories – of what had gone down in their lives, stuff they’d done, what they’d lost, the secrets that were killing them.

But also stories of how things had changed when they found the courage to be honest, when they shared the secrets, when they admitted they had a problem. 

Their stories were diverse, but there was a common theme: everyone who was getting better had realized they couldn’t get better by themselves. They couldn’t make it alone. Instead of blaming other people for their problems, they’d discovered that other people could actually help. Someone said: Welcome to being human. 

That lump in my throat had turned into tears.

A woman offered me a tissue. I said, thanks, I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m not an alcoholic, I’m just here for research purposes. She looked at me, she looked into me, really. She said, okay baby, okay. She knew. 

I knew, though It took me two more years to admit my drinking problem.

But the biggest obstacle to recovery for me was asking for help, learning that I need others.

My biggest temptation still is control freakery. I think I can sort it all out by myself. If I work hard enough, focus, organise, do enough yoga, I can fix anything. I’m a recovering alcoholic, but I’m also a recovering control freak.

But I’ve come to believe that everybody’s addicted to something. If we’re honest, we all struggle with some substance or behavior or attitude that’s just draining the life from us, and we cannot fix it on our own.

But that is actually good news: because it pushes us outside of ourselves. And help is only another human away.