Check out another version of this story in Luke18:9-14

Like anyone, I’ve had my ups and downs. There was a time in my mid-40s when I felt as if I had really got on top of things. I had spent the previous 20 years ticking all the boxes: education, job, promotion, top salary, the house in a leafy suburb.

I had married an attractive girl I met at college and we had a couple of bright, healthy kids. Both of us came from a Lutheran background so we kept up those connections, too. We sent our kids to the parish school, and I was a member of the church council. We also socialised with a smart set of people and hosted gourmet dinners, and I joined an expensive club.

I remember sitting in a car one evening waiting to pick up the kids from a school event. I looked out at the starry sky and felt that it was shining just for me. I congratulated myself on my success. And I felt sorry for all the failures and losers in the world. In contrast, I had become a self-made man. On Sundays I was the proud bloke in his best clothes sitting in the second-front row of the church enjoying the respect and envy of those who sat behind him.

Obviously, God and his church needed people like me.

It was a false high. Fifteen years later I was in the depths of depression. Things had started to take a sad turn after I turned 50. It probably started with alcohol: my weekend tastings became a daily tipple. Too late, I realised, I had a weakness, and it developed into an addiction. It was the classic story. My drinking began to affect my work performance. When the children left home, so did my wife. The job fell through, my health broke down and my better moments depended on the availability of a bottle. My friends disappeared. I even stopped going to church. I had become a loser and a failure myself.

I remember sitting in a bar one evening, gazing out into the dark night, and realising I had spent much of my life pursuing false gods. I stumbled outside, along the street, and stood outside my old church. I walked into the grounds and slumped against the lighted cross on the front lawn.

Obviously, no-one needed God and his church more than I did.

It was a necessary low. To explain it I’ve invented Catch 23. You’ve probably heard about Catch 22 from Joseph Heller’s 1961 anti-war novel. It describes a no-win situation: if you try to escape combat by saying you’re crazy, you’re obviously sane, but if you really are crazy, you’ll be happy to keep fighting. Catch 23 is lose-win: if you think you’re good enough to be accepted by God, you’re not; but if you know you’re not, then you are.

Dr Richard Hauser, now retired, was a teacher and headmaster in Lutheran schools for his entire working life. He lives with his wife Silvija on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.