Recovery, Faith, and the Night Sky
How astrophotography helped me reconnect with God, find purpose in sobriety, and offer hope to others
Hi, my name is Greg, and I am an alcoholic. However, that’s not the story of who I am or what defines me as a person. It has, though, taken a long time to come to that level of clarity, and I am still a work in progress.
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, and 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 at that moment I changed course, and a new trajectory was set for my life moving forward.
That was three years ago, and sobriety has been a life-altering experience each day since.
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, but I had to be careful, because the very hobby I once loved had also become a dangerous space for me. Being alone after dark created too many temptations, and the luxury of alcohol began to overtake me. I no longer cared about the vast and immeasurable sky, dotted with galaxies and nebulae. My new obsession was: how fast can I drink to get my head numbed and the voices silenced?
Stargazing and astrophotography became a lifeline again, pulling me out of the wilderness and giving me a purpose beyond merely surviving. But even in my attempts to overcome, I still found myself struggling to trust 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 homing in on celestial wonders felt metaphorical—a reminder to direct effort and intention toward God’s creation. And this wasn’t something I could do well under the influence of alcohol. That became clear as I noticed the quality of my work slipping into a mess. I was no longer proud of it—or of who I was. I realized I was dishonoring God and His creation by trying to capture it poorly, chasing likes and subscribes in an earthly online world obsessed with being liked and loved by the masses.
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 was I doing it to honor God? It was humbling and deeply inspiring to shift that focus, step away from my own self-indulgent sense of celebrity, and give all the credit for what I capture and share with the world to God. I don’t care if one person—or no one at all—reads or sees what I share on my website. What I do care about is where the credit goes, and that’s to Him.
Now, in the quiet moments of gazing at the stars, I see that my 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 most expansive playground to explore, and it’s a completely safe zone with no end in sight. I want the world to see that—to find joy and wonder in it, not in alcohol or any other addiction that can consume us.
My engagement in astrophotography is no longer about capturing the perfect shot; it’s about putting effort into something meaningful—something bigger than myself. The intricate dance of setting up the telescope, calculating exposure times, and refining settings has taught me patience, a virtue addiction often strips away. It encourages mindfulness and helps me stay present in the moment, rather than giving in to the temptation to numb 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 calls us to look past the haze and find the light breaking through. 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 can also be a light to others who are struggling. I don’t want to push my faith or spirituality on anyone, but I do want to offer hope to anyone who needs it. It is possible to overcome what feels impossible.
I don’t claim to have everything figured out—recovery is an ongoing journey, not a destination. I tell the guys I sponsor and walk beside 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.
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 a healthier version of yourself. You have it in you. You just have to want it badly enough.
How about you?
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Has your relationship with a higher power played a role in your recovery journey?
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Such a beautiful share, Greg. It’s truly miraculous how expansive, spacious, wondrous, and clear life can become when we step out of an addictive cycle and open to something bigger.
That crazy moment when we have to find a different hobby and our world cracks wide open! I myself got into astrology (a bit more woo woo there) but also really came to understand the concept of “thy will be done,” although I’m still unclear on who thy is (I personally tend to take a more Mother Earth/nature/whatever makes the sun rise and set approach).
Thanks for sharing ❤️ looking forward to more photos of the universe!