Thoughts by Peter Marinelli
I have always said that the spiritual life makes no sense. No sense that is to the thinking mind.
As I look back over so many of the miracles that have taken place and how often pieces of my life’s puzzle were put together, I’m in awe of the Great love God has for me.
These teachers – these spiritual giants I have come to know, and were able to be taught by, leaves me humbled by it all. I’m a kid from Brooklyn NY, who landed in full blown alcoholism. I had been in seven treatment centers was hopeless and taken to deaths door. In 1988, I was full of hate and contempt for everything and everyone, including God. Yet God rescued me from it all when one day I begged for help. Then He sent in the calvary. The teachers, who carried me, pushed me, confronted me, and challenged me daily. And most of all loved me back to health.
There was a gentleman back in Brooklyn, who I lovingly called a drill sergeant. He was a straight shooter and didn’t care about my feelings, but cared about saving my life. He was armed with the facts and “on fire” as we like to say and showed me that God loves me and that there was a way out of this thing called alcoholism.
There was another group of men one from Texas, one from Santa Monica California and one from Colorado (all have gone home to God). How is it possible that these men, these great teachers were put in my path and help revolutionize my life?
Now there have been many other players in my life who have shown me the right path and I’m blessed and grateful for them, and so many new teachers keep appearing. I am blessed!
I pray to always be as passionate and clear as they were with me. I pray to be teachable so I can continue to teach as they showed me.
How great is God. I’m sure you have your teachers, the men or women who have “opened that door” when we couldn’t even find the door knob and walked us through very dark and lonely days into the sunlight. What makes this even more interesting for me is that these men who were put in my life were alcoholic who were recovered. The spiritual life makes no sense-and I’m so glad it doesn’t.
Chop wood, carry water