October 10, 1986, was the best worst day of Ralph W.’s life. He didn't enter the rooms of recovery as a surrendering man—he was a scoffer and a cynic who viewed the Baptist church of his youth as a collection of myths and fables. A high-achieving corporate professional who had spent fifteen years "going hard in the paint," Ralph describes the obsession that drove him to steal ten dollars from his mother just to feed the beast. He arrived at the Harbor Light Center on Skid Row not out of a desire for spirituality, but out of desperation.
For Ralph, the second step wasn't a sudden bolt of lightning but a slow accumulation of evidence. He watched a thousand different people in Los Angeles claim the same solution, and as a "smart ass" who wasn't stupid, he realized the math added up. He describes grace as an unearned birthright, comparing it to a baby receiving a bottle. By letting go of the need to be the "right answer guy," he found a Higher Power that allowed him to shrink so his li...
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