Resilient Recovery

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Director’s Notes: How often I have longed.

Grouping people together based on their addiction is a dangerous game. While we hope that this type of intense intervention will address the factors that led to the problem, there is no guarantee.

In fact, researchers have uncovered that groups meant to be helpful can actually make things worse.  This is understandable if we think of prisons and juvenile detention centers. Everyone has heard the story of the small-time thief who is shaped into a hardened criminal while incarcerated.

But it’s shocking to consider that well-known and beloved programs can harm people struggling with addiction. It seems to happen when the majority of the group feels coerced into attending the group and through various ways struggles against the goals and purposes. This is obviously the case in prison—but it can occur in any group.

When interventions that are designed to help end up backfiring, scientists call this an iatrogenic effect—I share this for those who enjoy learning words you’ll never get to use in conversation.

I was thinking about these things last night. Something was off in a Resilient Recovery Group I facilitate. The group takes place on the second floor of a women’s sober living home.

The women seemed on track and cooperative in the first half of the meeting last night. We read a verse and discussed areas of frustration in our lives.

  • “I relapse every 7 years—like clockwork. It’s coming up on another 7 years and I am trying to figure out how to stop it.”

  • “I take on too much responsibility and put myself and my recovery at risk.”

  • “I want to stop talking back to the voices in my head.”

  • “I keep telling my story to people and sometimes it is just too much for them. They get awkward. I need to learn when not to share.”

  • “I want to speak kindly at all times. But, I get angry and lash out too often.”

That kind of honesty is not the norm in general society. Enormous forces are at work trying to repress and stifle confessions of this sort. For example, the fear of embarrassment can cause people to keep quiet about difficulties in their lives. Sharing our problems out loud can sometimes paint us into a corner. “Well, I said it out loud. Guess I’ll have to accept responsibility for the problem and do the hard work needed to change.” I also believe a demonic hoard wants to keep us locked up inside ourselves. Isolated members of a pack are easy pickings for predators.

So, I am extremely happy that the women are being radically honest about areas of struggle in their lives. They are pushing back against the tide of dishonesty.

But in tonight’s meeting, the gospel-centered question draws more blanks than responses. This is the question I ask, “why does heaven rejoice more over one sinner who repents than 99 people who do not need to repent?” People say the question is too hard and they don’t know the answer. About a third of the women pass rather than share something.

My mind, which is an explanation factory, starts to churn out explanations for this phenomenon. I wonder if it is just a bad question. I wonder if people feel coerced into attending. I wonder if the novelty of the meeting format is wearing off and people have sunk into a routine.

I think of ways to spice up the interaction. Show a video? Bring a guest? Put the handbook aside and have an open conversation?

With each person who declined to comment, my longing to gather the group together grew stronger. I wanted each lost sheep to be in the fold.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those sent to her, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were unwilling!  Matthew 23:37

Of course, this verse is a little dramatic for the situation. I am not a prophet, not a messiah. I am not on the verge of getting stoned to death—and there is no reason to suspect any iatrogenic effects from this group.

I am just some dude who facilitates a Bible study in this house once a week. Plus, more than half of the women responded. Those who didn’t respond were polite and contemplative.

Maybe it is just a bad question.