Hearing his story made me think of someone who had survived a car crash. Rob Nash is the calm presence at the corner of the table when I meet with friends at the local cafe. But there was a time when his life was, shall we say, unmanageable.
In May of 1983 his wife, siblings, and concerned friends staged an intervention. Rob's drinking had spiraled out to the point that there was havoc in his wake. All this, even though his career was successful. Rob knew that the effort to pretend he was happy was cracking at the seams, and he entered rehab to start anew.
That was thirty eight years ago, and yet his description was as clear as if it had been last week. On that day his life pivoted from addiction to sobriety.
This is not to imply that everything resolved instantly like the passing of a thunderstorm. But it was the beginning of a chain of twelve step meetings that has now numbered over thirteen thousand. It would be harder to count the lives he has impacted, the newcomers struggling with deeply embedded patterns who needed his steady voice. The ones who never even knew his last name. But they knew his number.
Rob knows what it means to surrender. To trust in God, and to make amends. But these lessons are neither easily earned, nor hypothetical. Trusting in God is child's play when the danger stays hidden. But when you see the darkness of how you have hurt the very people you adore, it shines as the only real thing left.
In a world where admitting our missteps is to be avoided at all costs, I find it moving to sit with someone who is comfortable in his own humanity. He is on a first name basis with God.
And he knows His number.
