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.