Walk into any 12-Step meeting, Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, or the dozens of spinoffs, and you’ll find a familiar rhythm. Folding chairs in a circle, instant coffee on a trestle table, the air thick with stories and relief. Someone shares. People nod. And somewhere in the mix, a phrase surfaces that’s as old as the programme itself, “We turned our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him.”
For millions, that step is the cornerstone of recovery. But for others, it’s the point where the road starts to crumble. Because not everyone believes in God, or wants to. And for those people, the 12 Steps can start to feel less like healing and more like pressure to join a belief system they never signed up for.
This is the conversation most rehabs and recovery groups still avoid, the question of faith. Not because it isn’t relevant, but because it’s messy. The truth is, spirituality can save lives. But when it’s forced, it can also quietly push people out of recovery altogether.
The Origins of “Faith-Based Recovery”
To understand the problem, you have to go back to where it all began. The 12-Step model was born in the 1930s out of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), founded by Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob Smith in the United States. They were deeply spiritual men influenced by the Oxford Group, a Christian movement focused on confession, restitution, and surrender to God.
The early Big Book of AA reflected that worldview. God was central, not optional. Over time, the language softened, “God as we understood Him”, to accommodate broader beliefs. But the foundation remained, recovery was tied to surrendering to a higher power.
Back then, this made sense. Medical models of addiction were primitive, and religion offered structure, community, and moral repair. It gave addicts a way to make sense of their suffering. But almost a century later, in a world of neuroscience, trauma therapy, and mental health literacy, the same framework doesn’t fit everyone.
Many modern addicts don’t see their problem as a spiritual failing. They see it as pain, trauma, or misfired survival instinct. So when they walk into a room that tells them their recovery depends on “turning it over to God,” something doesn’t land.
When Faith Becomes a Filter
The idea of a “higher power” was meant to be inclusive. It could be God, the universe, nature, love, anything greater than yourself. But in practice, it often isn’t that flexible. Many meetings still lean heavily on religious undertones, prayer, and surrender. For someone raised without faith, or someone whose trauma was tied to religion, that environment can feel alienating. They might sit in the circle but feel like an outsider, silently nodding through the Serenity Prayer while wondering if there’s room for them here.
They’re told, “Don’t overthink it, just believe.” But for some, belief doesn’t come easily. And pretending to believe just to fit in feels like lying, the very thing recovery is meant to heal.
This is where many quietly walk away. Not because they don’t want sobriety, but because they don’t want to trade one dependency for another. For people who’ve already spent years surrendering power, to substances, to people, to pain, being told to surrender again, even to a benevolent force, can feel like another form of loss.
The Power of Surrender, and Its Limits
There’s wisdom in Step Two. Surrender isn’t about religion; it’s about humility. It’s the realisation that willpower alone won’t fix addiction, that control is part of the problem. For many, this surrender is deeply healing. It breaks the illusion of control that fuels self-destruction. But surrender means different things to different people. For some, it’s prayer. For others, it’s acceptance. For some, it’s faith in God, for others, it’s faith in therapy, science, or community.
The problem arises when surrender is only defined in religious terms. Because what if your “higher power” is your children? Or the truth? Or the group itself? The moment we attach one language of faith to recovery, we lose the diversity that makes it human.
The truth is, not everyone needs God to heal. Some need understanding. Some need connection. Some need time.
The Guilt of Not Believing
Many people who struggle with the faith aspect of 12-Step recovery describe a strange kind of guilt, as if they’re failing at spirituality. They see others speak of divine intervention, of being “saved,” of spiritual awakenings. They wish they could feel that too. So they fake it. They say the prayers, they repeat the slogans, they try to believe. But deep down, they feel disconnected. It’s not defiance, it’s honesty.
And yet, in many groups, questioning faith is treated as resistance. People are told they’re “not ready” or “still fighting the programme.” That kind of shame pushes people further into silence, or relapse.
Faith can’t be forced. It has to grow naturally, or not at all. For some, that growth looks like God. For others, it looks like learning to trust themselves again. Both are valid.
The Science of Recovery Has Evolved
When the 12 Steps were written, addiction was seen as moral weakness. Today, we know it’s a complex interaction of genetics, trauma, environment, and neurochemistry. The tools we have now, therapy, medication, trauma-informed care, neuroplasticity, are far more advanced. That doesn’t make the 12 Steps obsolete, but it does mean they’re incomplete. The programme’s spiritual focus doesn’t address underlying trauma, attachment wounds, or mental health disorders that often drive addiction.
For many people, faith is the foundation. For others, it’s not enough. That’s why modern recovery must be hybrid, spiritual and scientific, emotional and neurological. Healing the brain and the soul aren’t opposites. But forcing one path for everyone misses the point.
Addiction doesn’t discriminate by belief, and neither should recovery.
The magic of the 12 Steps isn’t the doctrine, it’s the connection. The reason AA and NA work for so many isn’t because of divine revelation; it’s because of community. Strangers in a room who understand your pain better than your own family ever could. The honesty. The accountability. The hope. That’s the heart of the programme, not the prayers. What keeps people sober isn’t reciting a creed; it’s belonging. It’s the relief of being seen without judgement.
You can build that without religion. You can have fellowship without faith. Whether it’s through therapy groups, secular recovery meetings, or online communities, what matters isn’t who you pray to, it’s who you heal with.
Faith, Flexibility, and Freedom
Recovery is not one-size-fits-all. Some people find their strength in God. Others find it in themselves. The danger comes when we confuse method with morality, when we suggest that those who don’t believe are somehow less committed, less spiritual, or less capable of recovery. Faith-based recovery should never be about conversion. It should be about compassion. The best groups understand that belief is personal, and that healing has many languages.
If the goal is freedom from addiction, then people must be free to define what “faith” means to them. For some, it’s divine. For others, it’s human. For most, it’s both.
Maybe the phrase “higher power” needs a rewrite. Instead of something supernatural, what if it simply meant something that lifts you higher than addiction? Something that reminds you you’re more than your past. For some, that’s God. For others, it’s music, art, family, purpose, or love. It’s whatever keeps you climbing when the darkness says stop.
The point isn’t to conform, it’s to connect. The real higher power is the belief that life can still be good, that you can change, that recovery is possible.
When Faith Heals, and When It Hurts
Faith can be powerful. It can give meaning to suffering, help you forgive yourself, and connect you to something bigger than pain. But when faith is prescribed instead of discovered, it becomes control. And control is just another addiction. The 12 Steps were never meant to be worshipped; they were meant to be lived. The founders of AA created a guide, not a gospel. They built something that could evolve, and it’s time it did.
Because recovery should be inclusive. Nobody should have to choose between their beliefs and their sobriety. Nobody should have to pray to belong.
The 12-Step programme remains one of the most influential recovery systems in the world, and it will likely stay that way. But its survival depends on flexibility, on embracing the idea that spirituality is just one of many doorways into healing. Modern recovery needs more room for science, therapy, and personal autonomy, not less. It needs to honour both the believer and the sceptic, the prayer and the self-reflection, the group and the individual.
Because at the end of the day, recovery isn’t about what you believe in. It’s about what you build, peace, connection, integrity, and purpose.
You don’t have to surrender to God to get better. You just have to stop surrendering to pain.