Through the Telescope

Gaining Clarity Beyond Addiction’s Fog

Through the Telescope: Gaining Clarity Beyond Addiction’s Fog

When I first stepped into a series of recovery programs, I felt lost in a labyrinth of shadowy corridors and thick fog, a disorienting expanse of chaos brought on by addiction and shame. Every turn seemed endless, every door locked. Yet, I’ve learned that sometimes clarity doesn’t come all at once. Instead, it arrives in fragments, moments of wonder, unexpected gifts that remind me there’s more to life than the haze that consumed me.

At the risk of sounding crazy or out of this world (so to speak). I heard God’s words with such clarity in the very moments leading up to me extinguishing my life flame; it was a firm but gentle push, and for a split fraction of a second I felt comfort and relief. As soon as it left, I knew I wanted and needed it to return. It was in this moment that I changed course, and a new trajectory was now in place.

That was three years ago this month.

For me, clarity emerged when I was brave enough to start looking back to the heavens, quite literally. I found myself drawn to the night sky again, vast and immeasurable, dotted with galaxies and nebulae that seemed to sing of infinity. Stargazing and astrophotography became a lifeline again, pulling me out of the wilderness and giving me a purpose beyond merely surviving, but even in the attempts to overcome, I still found myself failing at trusting the process; shame had a grip, and it’s been an incredibly difficult demon to shake off my back and out of my head.

In many ways, the telescope became a tool of healing. Adjusting its focus and honing in on celestial wonders felt metaphorical—a reminder to direct effort and intention toward God’s creation, and this was not something I could do so well under the influence of alcohol. This was evident to me, as I noticed the quality of my work had started to slip into a mess, and I was no longer proud of it or of who I was. I was dishonoring God and his creation by poorly trying to capture it for my own likes and subscribes.

Capturing images of galaxies millions of light-years away taught me that the beauty and majesty of the universe could coexist with the struggles I carried within. However, I had to really focus on who I was doing this for. Was it to honor my pride? Or would I do this to honor God? It was humbling and deeply inspiring to change this focus, step away from my own self-indulgent celebrity, and give all the credit for what I capture and share with the world to God. I don’t care if one or none read and see what I share on this website. I do however, care about where the credit goes, and that’s to Him.

Now in the quiet moments of gazing at stars, I often recall Psalm 19:1—“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” Each star, each glowing nebula, feels like a brushstroke on the canvas of God’s creation, testifying to His limitless power and unwavering grace. It is now a realization that I see, that my own struggles are not the defining feature of my life, but an opportunity to lean into the divine artistry woven into every corner of existence. God has given me the biggest and largest playground to explore, and it’s a completely safe zone with no end in sight.

Engaging in astrophotography is no longer about capturing the perfect shot; it is about putting effort into something meaningful, something bigger than myself. The intricate dance of setting up the telescope, calculating exposure times, and refining settings taught me patience—a virtue addiction often strips away. It encourages mindfulness, helping me stay present in the moment instead of succumbing to the temptations of numbing internal struggles, negative thoughts, and emotional pain.

As I pour my energy into photographing something like the Orion Nebula or the Andromeda Galaxy, I begin to see how this hobby (I like to call it a spiritual gift) mirrors the process of recovery itself. Like aligning a telescope, recovery requires intention, focus, and perseverance. It requires us to look past the haze to find the light breaking through.

In John 8:12, Jesus says, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” This promise resonates deeply as I track constellations across the sky. It reminds me that even in moments of despair, I am never alone; God’s light continues to guide me, just as the stars do.

I don’t claim to have everything figured out; recovery is an ongoing journey, not a destination. I tell the guys I sponsor now that recovery is forever. But as someone who once felt shackled by addiction, I’ve discovered that engaging in a meaningful hobby can be transformative. It pulls me out of isolation, gives me a sense of accomplishment, and, most importantly, reminds me of the beauty and wonder that exist beyond my struggles.

Through the telescope, I’ve gained clarity. I’ve seen galaxies spinning like heavenly fingerprints, nebulae glowing with life, and stars burning bright despite the blackness surrounding them. These celestial wonders speak of hope, hope that through effort, prayer, and a willingness to embrace God’s creation, I can and have emerged from addiction’s fog into the radiant clarity of His grace.

So, to anyone who feels trapped in that labyrinth, I encourage you to find your telescope, whether literal or metaphorical. Channel your energy into something that draws you closer to the Creator’s masterpiece.

Let Psalm 8:3-4 be your guide: “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them?” You are seen, cherished, and loved. And like the stars, your light is meant to shine.

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