This much I know. . .

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the  difference.  .

The kicker is that last part.  Wisdom to know the difference.

As I continue to explore vocational issues, and particularly whether it is possible and advisable to return to ministry, this prayer which has been so central to my recovery from alcoholism once again comes to the fore.  There are some things I cannot change.  Being bipolar, for example.  Though not every psychiatrist would diagnose me as such (some are much less inclined to offer that diagnosis than others), at the very least, this much I know:  I have cycled between highs and lows throughout my life.  During the highs I feel the compulsion to save the world, and during my lows I long to be saved from the world.

Courage to change the things I can. . .  Though I didn't know what I was dealing with at the time, as the bipolar diagnosis had not yet been made, I was actively seeking to moderate my moods and particularly to address my insomnia by self medicating with alcohol.  That choice of mine resulted in my becoming chemically dependent with near disastrous consequences.  I changed.  Once confronted with my alcoholism I entered chemical dependency treatment, became highly involved in AA, and chose to live in sobriety.  I am actively receiving appropriate medical treatment through both medication and counseling for my condition.  These changes are the best things I've ever done.  This much I know.  Life is better now.

And so I think about tomorrow, and how my future may be shaped, wondering what I must peacefully accept, and what I can choose to change.  And I wonder, am I still called to be a pastor?

This much I know. . .

• I have had the opportunity to serve this Church as an ordained pastor for 25 years in the parish.  The vast majority of that time was positive.  Both for me, and for the congregations I served.  And during that time I was largely untreated.  
• Some of my most notable accomplishments occurred during those times when I was manic.  Those endeavors will continue to have a positive effect in the communities I served.  In large part, I was/am a good manic.  
• If I could be a faithful pastor throughout those years that my alcoholism was untreated, and throughout those years that I was cycling through mania and depression without being treated, then I certainly ought to be able to be an even more faithful pastor now that I am in recovery from alcoholism, and under appropriate medical care for my bipolar disorder.  
• There is, however, a risk.  There is the possibility that re-engagement in ministry will result in the exposure to triggers that could result in compromising my health and recovery, and put the congregation(s) I would serve in a vulnerable situation.  
• The "safe" choice is not always the best choice.  Life involves risks.  And courage is the ability to live in the face of those risks.  
• The inner call that I continue to experience to ordained ministry will, if genuine, be confirmed by the Call of the Church to resume that ministry.  The greater part of wisdom is listening. . .
• The single most important thing I have learned in these last 3 1/2 years, is that I am not a savior.  Codependency is an occupational hazard for pastors.  Even more so for me, when I'm in my manic "savior" mode.  And depression has often focused on my own inability to "save".  There is a great freedom that comes from embracing the reality that I am not a savior, nor was I ever intended to be.  That is not the purpose for which I was created.
• But I can be a witness to the One who is.  And this much I know, that I can bear witness to Christ whether or not I ever receive another call to serve as a pastor in this Church.  

Serenity, Courage, and Wisdom.  Three prayers.

And now I must listen.

Reclaiming One's Life

Had a brief conversation last night with  my wife about vocation and the lingering, persistent, even nagging sense of call I continue to experience.  For all that has  transpired throughout the last 3 1/2 years, it simply remains the case that I am happiest when I am preaching, teaching, and writing about matters of faith.  You can take the pastor out of the congregation, but you can't take the preacher out of the pastor.  I feel a need again to explore options with my bishop.  Its a complex issue.

Do I let the diagnosis of bipolar disorder have the final word on my service as an ordained pastor, and will I conclude my ministry under the "disabled" status?  Numerous thoughts come racing through my head in this regard.

The 80/20 rule of thumb.
80/20 is somewhat arbitrary here, but suffice it to say that for me, as with most bipolar people, I believe, the bulk of life is not lived at the extremes.  Even untreated, perhaps 80% of the time my moods remain within the spectrum of "normal".  (This is a simplification, but bear with me.)  Everybody experiences 'ups and downs' in life,  This is, of course, the case for one who is bipolar, except that the highs are higher, the lows lower.  But most of the time, life is lived somewhere in the middle.  I find myself wondering at what point these extremes are disabling, and at what point they are not.

One of the issues is that it is hard to make a case that I am disabled to the insurance carrier that manages the church's disability plan because they look at the 80%, and say, "nothing is wrong".  On the other hand, when I consider returning to ministry I have to anticipate how a congregation would feel about a pastor whose moods are out of the ordinary 20% of the  time.  "Yes, he's depressed right now, but give him a week. . ."  My skeptical side says that it is a rare congregation that would show that type of accommodation.

But what of the effect of medication?  If the result of medication is that one's mood remains within the normal spectrum a greater percentage of time, then when is it sufficiently stabilized to allow a person to continue with life unimpeded by this disease?  What if the 80/20 is actually 95/5 when on medication?  Is that sufficient?

And what is the impact of knowledge?  Does the fact that I now know that I'm bipolar, and experience manic and depressed moods, make a difference?  I am less likely to act on manic impulses knowing them for what they are.  I am less prone to be overwhelmed by depression, knowing that I will cycle out of it in time.

And what is the impact of being cared for by a medical team and knowledgeable family and friends?  Having others aware of my condition who are in a position to help me recognize what's going on and to moderate behavior even when moods swing beyond the norm, helps.

Having said all that, there is the other possibility that returning to ministry might result in numerous 'triggers' being reactivated that would result in my 80/20 becoming a 60/40 or worse.  That is possible, too.

What I am most uncomfortable with in this whole process is falling between the cracks.  It is very possible that our disability plan will look at the "80%" and determine that I don't qualify for disability.  But at the same time, the 'Church' may look at the 20% and determine that it is not advisable for me to resume any pastoral ministry.  Too normal for disability benefits, too abnormal for consideration for call.

What I long for is clarity regarding this matter of the Call.  If my condition truly prohibits me from returning to the vocation of ministry, then I wish God would remove from me this persistent wrestling with feeling called to ministry.  But if that Call is genuine, then I wish God would open the doors to make it possible.  What makes life difficult at the moment is the overwhelming feeling of this matter being unsettled, and the restlessness that results from that.

What I pray for is twofold:  A clear sense of vocation, of what God is calling me to do with my life; and then, secondly, for the doors to open that will make that possible.

Some odds and ends regarding disability. . .

"'While we were impressed with your background and experience, we concluded that other candidate's profiles more closely matched our requirements."


And with that, my budding career as an aircraft assembler came to an end before it got started. Having been turned down for the position I'm left wondering what part of my profile did not match their requirements. Let's see:

• All my experience as a builder is with wood, they work in metal. 
• I'm over educated for the position. 
• My prior salary is far more than what the position offered. 
• I have been in my current position only 5 months. 
• I voluntarily disclosed that I am bipolar. 
• I am 59 years old. 

Let's see, given all this I can imagine numerous things about my profile that might not match their requirements. And of course, they would not want to disclose the particulars. And so I'm simply left with life as it is, not as I had hoped it would be. I'm also left with an awareness that external matters, such as applying for and being turned down for a job, can have an enormous impact on my mood. Whether or not this job would have been an improvement over what I am currently doing, the mere thought of it greatly elevated my mood, and being turned down sent me into a depressed state. Up and down. Just like that. On this day I don't know if those mood swings were significantly out of the ordinary. I certainly wasn't off the charts. But it was enough to remind me that mood stability is not part of my personal profile. . .

On disability benefits: I chose to disclose that I am bipolar to this potential new employer because they are an Affirmative Action employer, had requested such voluntary disclosure, AND, on the form for disclosure Bipolar Disorder was specifically identified as an example of such a disability. Just saying that I find it interesting that had I been hired for the position I applied for, my being hired as a person with Bipolar Disorder would have fulfilled the requirements of the Affirmative Action laws regarding being a 'government contractor' and hiring the disabled. Contrary to that is the position that Liberty Mutual has taken regarding my disability claim, that being Bipolar does not constitute a disability that would prevent me from resuming pastoral ministry or any other vocation.

My psychologist shared with me that he had received notice that another "peer review" was underway regarding my appeal for disability benefits. I have come to loathe Liberty Mutual and resent their involvement in my case, though I have no choice about that matter. Something about a company rendering judgments regarding my health without ever even interviewing me. We will see what happens. My brother is handling the appeal, and because of my emotional instability, I am quite content to stay as far removed from it as I can.

Meanwhile, because I have come to "loathe" Liberty Mutual, I have terminated my homeowners, car, and business policies with them. I take particular delight in receiving the checks refunding my premiums. And I entertain myself with the thought that in the end, the business they have lost from me will exceed the amount that they have been paid to manage my disability claim. I hope so, anyway.

The most troubling part of this whole matter of disability is that there may well be inconsistent judgments. It may be determined that I am not disabled enough to receive disability benefits, but too disabled to be considered for pastoral ministry. Unfortunately, this may be the reality, allowed for under the terms of the policy.

Peace, like a River

"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul."

I'm thinking of this song, because a dear friend expressed again the concern that I will be at peace.  Those who know me best, know that in this area I can indeed profit from their prayers.  Peace has been illusive for me over my lifetime.

A restless sojourner on a quest.

That would be an apt description of who I have been, and who I am.  So much so that to contemplate that "peace" might replace this quest is quite uncomfortable.  When I hear the words 'may you find peace' there is a part of me that simply cannot understand them as anything other than becoming content with the status quo, both in my personal life and the life of the world around me.  Uh, need I say, that the status quo is not always what its cracked up to be.

There is a part of me that is an eternal optimist.  I realize that as one who periodically suffers from deep depression, this is a bit of a bizarre statement.  Yet it is true.  A core belief of mine is that God is continually at work, creating a future that is better than the past, and that we as his children are called to participate in this work.  This belief fuels the restlessness.  It's part of the journey.  Its realization is the quest.

It is also very typical of my mental state while in a manic phase.  I experience a very benevolent mania, most typified by wanting to make the world a better place.  "A better future starts with me" is a phrase that I embrace when in my manic state.  It is compelling.  A driving force that gives meaning and purpose to life.

Mood stabilizers have reined in that type of thinking.  My goals have  become much more modest.  Some would say "realistic".  I am not driven as much.  The restless sojourner on a quest has been replaced by one that is more content with sufficiency.  It is enough.  Is this "peace"?

There is a part of me that recoils against such a thought.  If such is peace, then I cannot be at peace with peacefulness.  The restless sojourner on a quest does not die easily.

I am more comfortable with the statement "It is well, it is well, with my soul."  Whether I'm "at peace" or in "turmoil", it is well, it is well, with my soul.  This I am learning to embrace.  It's not always easy.

Part of this is coming to know and accept myself for who I am.

A more important part of this is to believe that God knows me even more than I know myself, and accepts me as I am, more than I could ever hope to.

"It is well, it is well, with my soul" is more of a statement about God, than it is about me.
                                                            

Post Script:  I've shared about my struggles with insomnia.  Last night I went to bed around 9, and first woke up at about 11.  Then 12.  Then I rose at 1.  I will try to return to sleep, shortly.  But part of the problem is that I enjoy the peace and tranquility of the quiet night.  "Hello darkness my old friend,  I've come to talk with you again. . ."  Its as though I have exchanged a "peaceful night's rest" for a "restless night's peace".  But it is well, it is well, with my soul.

Knowing only that your hand is leading us

Uncertainty has been a constant companion since October 14th, 2012.

Prior to that time everything was set.  My ministry in Sandpoint had been affirmed by our congregation council.  After 13 years, they made it clear that they wanted me to remain till I retired, and to that end offered me the opportunity to buy my own home in Sandpoint.  I had shared that my desire was to continue serving First Lutheran till I retired, and then, as Pastor Emeritus, serve in supportive role to the new pastor.  Clarity.  The best laid plans of mice and men.

It didn't work out that way.

The decision to allow me to buy my own house resulted in a backlash from a segment of the congregation.  They held a closed door meeting and formulated a letter with certain demands, and the threat to terminate my call.  Upon reading that letter, I sought solace in a bottle of Scotch coupled in the end with my mixing my dosage of Ativan with the Scotch in a cocktail that nearly killed me.  The next day, at the urging of my family, my friends, and my Bishop I entered the hospital, in my mind to treat my depression.  Upon entering the hospital I got wind of another agenda.  "You're headed to chemical dependency treatment."  And the hardest words I have ever heard:  "Dave, you are an alcoholic."

I was losing everything.

First, I had to relinquish 'control' of the congregation and go on a medical leave for treatment.  Then, after having tried to return to work, unsuccessfully, I had to go on long term disability.  Disability benefits were only 2/3 of my prior compensation, yet our mortgage remained at 100%.  Then, came resignation from my call.  For a time the severance package which paid out accumulated vacation time made up the difference, but then, that also came to an end.  More recently, my disability benefits were terminated and with that, our medical insurance.  The business I had started, also failed to produce any livable income.  At every crossroads along the way, at every twist and turn in the road, with each additional loss, I expected and feared the worst.  Top on the list of fears was that we would lose the house.

Thinking back on all of this is depressing.

Except for the miracle.  It is remarkable, really.  And yes, I consider it a miracle of God's grace.

After sustaining all of these losses, we are better off financially than we ever have been.

Many things have contributed to that, and yes, there has had to be some belt tightening along the way.  But the bottom line is that instead of losing everything, as feared, we are in better shape than we have ever been.  In addition, facing the realities of my alcoholism and being bipolar has left me, today, probably healthier than I have been in a long time.

Never have the words of Jeremiah seemed so true:  "For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope."  Every time a door closed, another one opened.

Certainty has been replaced by faith.  I don't know what tomorrow will bring.  None of us actually does.  But everyday I learn to trust a little more that God's hand is leading us, his love supporting us.  These are the words of the "Holden Prayer".  I am preaching in Coeur d'Alene this morning and will conclude my sermon with that prayer.  I share it with you as well.

"O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown.   Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen."

Faith

"God is doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves."

This is one of the promises articulated in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.  It captures the essence of faith.  "Confidence" is the belief that we can do it.  "Faith" is the belief that God has and God will do it.  The invitation that we have received is to live by faith, not confidence.  Big difference.

In a few hours I will have another faith exercise.  I'm having surgery to repair a hernia.  To have surgery is to relinquish all control over one's life, and to place one's trust in the medical team to do what they do.  A hernia repair is minor, compared to the open heart surgery I had back in 2003.  But still there will be that moment when the anesthesiologist gives you a "little something to help you relax".  (That's my favorite quote from the time when I had open heart surgery.  What an understatement.  "Help you relax", hardly captures going out like a light.)  That moment when we watch the injection is a moment of faith.  Its relinquishing control.  Its trusting that others will do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.

I had my interview yesterday for a job here in Sandpoint.  As I wrote yesterday a major question was whether I should disclose that I have Bipolar Disorder.  I did.  The honesty was appreciated.  The rest of the interview went fine.  I felt good about it.  What will come of it, I don't know.  Now its simply out of my hands.  I have to trust that the decision they make will be the right decision, for them, as well as for me.  For me it goes beyond trusting the HR people to make the right decision.  For me it is also a matter of faith in God.  That God is doing for me what I cannot do for myself.

I don't like being out of control, but I'm getting better at accepting that as a reality of life.  I've even begun to let my wife drive more of the time.

One of the things I've learned as I adjusted to being bipolar is to recognize that I am not in control of the mood swings that I experience.  I don't fully understand what happens with the chemistry in my brain that cause these sometimes substantial swings.  I just know that they happen, not by choice, not by chance, but because of matters beyond my control.

Taking the medications as prescribed seems at times to be an effort to regain control.  But truth be told, that there are medications, that I've been prescribed medications, and that the medications have a certain effect are issues beyond my control.  Others are doing for me what I cannot do for myself.  Faith.

It seems to me that true "confession" is not the acknowledgement of our culpability as much as it is an acknowledgement of our vulnerability.  "I am in bondage to sin and cannot free myself."  Vulnerability.  God is doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves."  Faith.

Not knowing what the future holds, and knowing that much of what will be is beyond my control, I can only pray for faith.  I pray for faith, because to have faith, is yet another thing that we cannot do for ourselves, but is possible only because of what God has done for us.

That which matters most. . .

I had a conversation with my brother this last week relative to the interview process I'm in.  The company that I am applying to is an Affirmative Action company, and has invited voluntary disclosure of any disability, past or present.  Do I disclose or don't I?

Because there is no obvious need for reasonable accommodations to be provided in order for me to perform the work, there is part of me that feels it unnecessary to disclose anything.  There is a fear of the prejudice that exists regarding mental illness.  And, there are many who may not realize that being Bipolar does not mean one is "crazy".  It only means that one experiences mood swings that are beyond the norm.  Furthermore, I am responding well to medication and those mood swings have been greatly moderated.

And then I consider disclosure.  First of all, I do not want to be hired because of the requirements of an Affirmative Action policy.  I want to be hired because of my capabilities.  Yet disclosure brings with it some distinct advantages.  The one accommodation that I do need is the ability to continue to see my doctors on a regular basis in order to monitor my moods and make adjustments of medications as necessary.  This is not that frequent, currently.  I see my psychologist once a month, my psychiatrist every two to three months.  I haven't told my current employer why I'm asking for time off for these appointments and as a result I get comments that are basically inquiries about my health or at the minimum, statements of concern.

In the end, following my brother's counsel, I have decided to disclose for the simple reason that I've already disclosed.  You cannot write a blog or post on Facebook without that information being available to others who care enough to do a simple search.  I am told that companies with an extensive interview process will often do a Google search on prospective employees.  And so disclosure may be nothing more than a direct acknowledgement of what is already out in the open and on the table anyway.  It will allow for open conversation and assurances about what is and is not necessary.  And its who I am, which is a good place to start a relationship.

And yet it is not that which really matters most.

One of the challenges about such a diagnosis is to not let it become definitive for one's very identity.  While it is true that my life has been shaped by the ebb and flow of mood changes, that is more about my life experiences than my identity.  A cancer patient's identity is not the disease they have.  Nor is a bipolar persons identity defined by the disease.

Here is one place where my faith comes in to play.  The promise that was made to me in baptism is that I am nothing less than a beloved child of God.  Furthermore, as a child of God, I have been given many different gifts and abilities.  Baptism, is disclosure.  It is all about recognizing the true nature of who and whose we are.

Today as I interview, I hope that is what comes through, for it is what matters most.

Hope and a Spring in One's Step

Wait, something's different.

I pause a moment and realize that its a simple thing.  There is a spring in my step.  Perhaps, even, the slightest hint of a dance.

The last time I had this feeling was three years ago.  That was when I decided to resign my call to the congregation I served, and re-establish my wood working business.  I was released from the heavy burden that ministry had become, and was embracing all of the opportunities that the future promised.  I recognize now that I also was in the midst of a  manic episode.

Since then my mood has stabilized.  Somewhat.  But first there were significant periods of dealing with very deep depression.  Then the diagnosis.  And the medications.  What happened was that the extremes were moderated and the new norm became a low level depression.  One of things that people such as my pastor noted was that I tended to not smile much, and often answered the question "How are you doing?" with "Just so so-- I have my good days and bad days."  The new reality was that I had stabilized, but at a low level depression.  If you made up a scale to measure mood with zero being the normal baseline, positive 10 being a full blown mania, and negative 10 being the worst possible depression, my baseline was about a negative 3.  I was managing, but it certainly wasn't great.

For the last couple of weeks, I have been exploring a new employment opportunity.  I am excited.  I can't believe that I can say that.  And yes, I experience a spring in my step.  Hope abounds.  What I am most hopeful for is that with a better, more enjoyable and rewarding job, my baseline may raise.  I am hopeful that my days will begin with an enthusiasm about going to work.  I'm hopeful that this job will feel right.  That it won't feel like something I'm doing just to get by.  I don't like the feeling associated with my current job that this is not what I want to do, but it is what I can do, and I just have to try to make the most of it.

What I hope for is that I will be able to spend the rest of my career doing something that I'm proud of and can look back on and say, "Yes, that was good."

But, and there always seems to be a "but", I also find that my optimism is a guarded optimism.  What I hope and pray for is that the baseline will be raised, that I'll spend more of my time on the positive side of the mood spectrum, but without it progressing into a full blown mania.

A couple of side notes to conclude with:
I have been wishing that our Church, which believes that all Christians have a vocational calling, would provide help in discerning my own vocation.  My bishop responded by inviting me to participate in a vocational discernment workshop.  Ironically, I cannot make it because of the interview process I'm in and also my obligations at my current job.  Vocational obligations trump the opportunity to explore vocational goals. . .

And finally, in spite of myself, I have a lot to be grateful for.  Given all that we have been through, God has provided for us along the way.  It could have been much different.  Even as I've struggled with the ups and downs, I can honestly say that there is much in my life that is just plain good.