From Terror to Tenderness
Hebrews 12:18–24 is a tale of two mountains.
One is Mount Sinai—blazing fire, darkness, storm, trumpet blast, trembling voices.
The other is Mount Zion—city of the living God, angels in joyful assembly, spirits made perfect, and Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant.
One is terror.
The other is tenderness.
For the alcoholic in recovery, this contrast is not just theological—it’s autobiographical.
1. The Mountain of Fear
“You have not come to a mountain that can be touched and that is burning with fire…” (v.18)
Before recovery, many of us lived at Sinai. We feared judgment, rejection, exposure. We trembled at the thought of being truly known. Our lives were shaped by avoidance—of pain, of truth, of God.
Recovery Insight:
Sinai is the mountain of secrets. It’s where we hide our shame, mask our wounds, and drink to silence the trumpet blast of conscience. But AA doesn’t let us stay there. It invites us to walk toward Zion.
And how do we walk?
We take inventory of our root-cause weaknesses—not just the justifications and excuses that alcohol once helped us mask. We take a wide and deep truth-based assessment of our defects and apply prayer-powered action to heal them.
- Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
- Step 5: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
- Step 8: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
- Step 9: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.
- Step 10: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
- Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
But AA doesn’t talk much about identifying your strengths—and building upon them.
Yet it’s this glass-half-full view that helps us walk toward Zion.
Yes, we have defects. But we also have gifts.
The walk toward Zion requires both:
- Admitting we are powerless over the blazing fire, darkness, storm, and trembling voices of inner cravings and disconnection from people.
- And surrendering to the God who occupies Mount Zion.
2. The Mountain of Grace
“But you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God…” (v.22)
Zion is not earned—it’s entered.
Not through perfection, but through surrender.
It’s the AA room where strangers become family.
It’s the sponsor who says, “Me too.”
It’s the moment you realise you’re not alone.
Recovery Insight:
Zion is the mountain of fellowship.
It’s where grace replaces guilt, and presence replaces performance.
It’s where you stop running, understand yourself, and start healing.
3. The Mediator of Mercy
“…to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.” (v.24)
Abel’s blood cried out for justice.
Jesus’ blood cries out for mercy.
In recovery, we need both—but we live by the latter.
We name our wrongs (Step 5), make amends (Step 9), and walk forward—not condemned, but covered.
Recovery Insight:
Jesus doesn’t just mediate our salvation.
He mediates our sobriety.
He stands between our past and our future, whispering,
“You are forgiven. You are free.”
The Fixer’s Reflection: Choosing the Right Mountain
As a Fixer, I’ve stood at both mountains.
At Sinai, I tried to solve my shame with strategy—business wins, reputation, control.
But the fire never stopped burning.
At Zion, I found a different architecture—one built on grace, humility, and shared humanity.
I stopped trying to fix the past and started building a future.
Closing Thought
Recovery is a relocation.
You don’t live at Sinai anymore.
You’ve come to Zion.
To joy.
To mercy.
To Jesus.
So breathe.
You’re not being judged.
You’re being welcomed.
Jason Bresnehan
Jason is a fixer—of businesses, of broken momentum, and occasionally of entire spiritual frameworks gone sideways. He speaks fluent boardroom and AA, deploys Catholic doctrine with the subtlety of a scalpel, and isn’t afraid to lace his insights with both war-room metaphors and dad-sermon tenderness.
Founder of Evahan, a consultancy built on the idea that legacy and liquidity don’t need to fight, Jason draws on 30 years of commercial grit, tactical leadership, and emotional radar to help people rebuild what entropy took. He works with companies, communities, and recovery misfits alike—often using the same principles to sort both cap tables and chaotic lives.
He’s finalising his first book—a memoir-in-doctrine forged in the trenches of alcoholic recovery, endurance motorsport obsession, and spiritual trench marches. That book, partly teased on his Pursuit of Luck blog, is the cornerstone of a broader movement to connect practical wisdom with satirical grit, spiritual heat, and a recovery roadmap lined with breadcrumbs and tactical grace.