Step One: Principle 6 of 6 – Spiritual Awakening Begins Here

Principle 6 of 6 – Spiritual Awakening Begins Here

👁️ What It Means on the Surface
This principle is the quiet miracle of Step One. Though God isn’t named in the step, something sacred begins here. The ego loosens. The soul stirs. It’s not a lightning bolt—it’s a flicker. A whisper. A willingness to believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s another way to live.

I was fortunate at this point. Baptised and confirmed Catholic, educated in a Catholic school, and married at the Church of Apostles in Launceston—just metres from where the Launceston AA group meets in a former 1800s nun’s convent—it felt natural for me to choose the Judaeo-Christian God described in the Old and New Testaments. I feel lucky, because I’ve seen many AA fellows struggle to settle on a higher power.

As an aside, in AA circles, there are a lot of Catholics—many of Irish heritage—and we’re tongue-in-cheek known as members of the CIA: Catholic Irish Alcoholic. Anecdotally, there’s something in the Irish Catholic genetic soup that makes us prone to the odd drink.

I didn’t need to define God—I just needed to stop playing God. That shift, that surrender, was the beginning of something spiritual. Not loud. Not dramatic. But real.

 

👁️ Where People Go Wrong with This Principle

1. Waiting for Fireworks
Some expect a spiritual awakening to be cinematic. But most awakenings begin in silence. In stillness. In the moment you stop fighting and start listening. Mine happened while driving back from church, listening to a Christian rock ballad riffing on John 8:36: “Who the Son frees, is free indeed.” But that moment came months after Step One.

2. Thinking Spirituality is Step Eleven’s Job
Yes, Step Eleven is about conscious contact. But Step One is where the contact begins. It’s the first time you say, “I can’t do this alone.” That’s a prayer—even if you don’t call it one.

Even though I’d attended hundreds of church services, recited Hail Marys after confession, and said nightly prayers, I never asked God for anything. At Catholic boys’ schools, it was almost an unwritten rule: you don’t have the audacity to ask God for things. He’s not your butler—you repent, and the only thing you can ask for is forgiveness.

It wasn’t until Year 11, when a Christian Brother who was also the Headmaster taught our compulsory Religious Studies class, that I first heard about the idea of having a relationship with God. Six months later, I left St Patrick’s College for a public college to rewire my brain away from STEM subjects—what “real boys” did—and toward “fluffier” ones like business, economics, law, and English literature.

To start my contact with God, I had to get comfortable asking for guidance. Small, ambiguous things like, “Guide me to show humility in this business meeting.” And I could see it working—my mindset changed, and so did how I interacted with people.

If you conflate contact with God with asking to win Powerball, you’re setting yourself up for a fall.

3. Mistaking Surrender for Defeat
Surrender isn’t giving up. It’s giving over. It’s the moment you stop trying to outthink addiction and start trusting something greater than yourself.

At Step One, I was still mistaking surrender for defeat. The word “surrender” conjures images of waving a white flag and becoming submissive to your captors. But I eventually realised—no one was trying to capture me. The world was simply saying: “You are not God.” “Easy does it, tiger.” “Get a grip on your place in the universe and what you can influence—and what you can’t.”

 

👁️ Double Meanings and Psychological Traps

“I’m not spiritual”
You don’t have to be. You just have to be willing. Willingness is the spark. Spirituality is what grows from it.

I was lucky here. I dove headfirst into growing my spirituality. My logic? “It’s like giving chicken soup to a dead man. It can’t hurt.” I was spiritually dead. My life was in ashes, with fast-cooling embers. Growing my spirituality wasn’t going to extinguish the last bit of life in my soul.

“I’ll get spiritual later”
Recovery doesn’t wait for perfect timing. The spiritual journey starts the moment you admit you need help. That’s not Step Eleven’s job—it’s Step One’s gift. If it’s unpalatable, you just have to suck it up.

It reminds me of Winston Wolf in Pulp Fiction, telling Jules and Vincent: “Pretty please, with a cherry on top—clean the f**ing car.”* Sometimes, you just have to do the thing.

 

👁️ The Deeper Spiritual Invitation
This principle is the first breath of grace. It’s the moment you stop being the centre of your own universe. It’s the beginning of humility, of openness, of faith.

For me, it was the moment I stopped asking, “How do I fix this?” and started asking, “Who or what can help me?” That question changed everything. It didn’t give me answers—but it gave me hope. And hope, I’ve come to learn, is the footbridge.

STEP ONE - PRINCIPLE 6 of 6

A strong advocate for freedom, limited government, and enterprise-driven progress, Jason also draws deeply from his personal recovery journey—an experience that reshaped his life and fuels his commitment to growth, contribution, and principled living. Through writing, speaking, and service, he continues to learn, share, and speak with purpose.

I can be engaged (on a remunerated or volunteer basis) to sit on Boards, Committees, Advisory and Reference Group Panels, and to speak to Business, Community, and Youth groups. I’m also open to providing comment to media on topics where I have relevant experience or insight. Please feel free to make contact.