Fighting in the Open

Almost a decade ago, during our first mission with the Church's Family Services in Arizona, the culture within the Addiction Recovery Program centered on carefully protecting participants' anonymity. We put up privacy screens over the meeting room doors, held meetings in homes, paid attention to where participants parked their cars, and emphasized the importance of maintaining confidentiality within the group.

Then something happened that changed me forever.

During one sharing time, a painfully shy woman, who had married into a well-known Latter-day Saint family and was in the throes of betrayal trauma, stood and bore one of the bravest testimonies I have ever heard.

Completely out of character, she spoke with remarkable boldness:

"I am tired of hiding! I am fighting for the survival of my family, and that effort requires every ounce of faith and strength I have. The extra stress I feel in having to be so paranoid about who will find out about our struggles is sapping my hope and making me feel terrible shame. From now on, I will fight in the open and do it proudly. I am proud to say that I am waging an open war against the terrible threat to my marriage and children."

The fifteen women in that room were changed forever—including me.

As we talked afterward, we all expressed the same feeling: the Spirit had spoken to us. Our group culture shifted that day. We began rejecting shame and secrecy because we recognized them for what they were. Addiction thrives in secrecy, and shame is one of Satan's greatest weapons.

By then, we understood something profound: every family—inside and outside the Church—has, or someday will have, someone quietly battling an addiction of some kind. Whether those addictions involve substances, compulsive behaviors, destructive habits, or repetitive negative thought patterns, they all flourish in darkness. Those of us who work in the trenches of recovery learn to define addiction broadly because we see the many ways it enslaves the human heart.

From that point forward, our weekly group became a place where people chose to fight honestly, openly, and faithfully instead of silently carrying unbearable burdens.

Throughout history, millions upon millions of courageous men and women have proudly fought for home, family, and freedom during times of war. Why should this war against addiction, trauma, and destructive thought patterns be any different? Why shouldn't we take equal pride in standing on the battlefield for our marriages, our children, our faith, and our own souls?

I often wonder how many brave souls have been lost in these hidden wars.

Too many unsung heroes, I think.

I have found that when an honest, faith-filled, Twelve-Step offense is deployed in the open, God's flaming sword descends into the battle until the war for the soul is won.