Struggling with sleep. . .

So on the weekends I binge sleep.  Saturday's are a valiant effort to make up for what is lost the rest of the week.

Things have been regressing on that account.  I go to bed at 7 pm or so, with the hope to get 8 hours in by 3 am when I must wake.  I've been waking up as early a 10:45 pm.  10:45 pm is a bit early to start one's day. 

What ensues is an effort to go back to sleep, often to no avail.  I lay down, and am never sure if I've been sleeping, or just resting.  Dreams and thoughts merge into one.  Was I dreaming?  Or is my mind just racing?  I'm never sure. 

Numerous issues could be in play.  First and foremost is that the medication I'm on has simply lost its effectiveness.  I'll speak to my neurologist about that in a few weeks.  This would be unfortunate because the medication I'm on is one of the few that is safe for long term use.  When I went for a sleep study, what was determined is that I have mild sleep apnea.  The CPAP machine was to be the ticket.  The Doc says its working, when I wear it.  Problem is that it is often the CPAP that wakens me. 

The sleep issues could also be a symptom of deeper anxiety and depression.  I don't feel terribly anxious, or depressed, but sometimes it creeps up on you. 

My coping mechanism of trying to make up for the lost sleep on the weekends could also be part of the problem.  "Naps are a no, no." is one piece of advice.  But then what do you do when you've had inadequate amounts of sleep at night? 

And then there is the issue of age.  It could simply be that as I age I need less sleep. 

Yet my good friend, the Doc, tells me that extended periods of sleep remain necessary.  Dozing in and out doesn't do it.  It's not healthy.

Part of the struggle is that I actually feel best in the early morning, even after just a few hours of sleep.  Alert, energetic, creative. 

Another part of the struggle is that my dreams are not restful, for the most part.  Often they have a work component.  Last night I was building a bunk bed with another worker from my cabinet shop.  And often these dreams occur over and over again in a relentless series.  It's like the drudgery of the worst day in the cabinet shop invades my sleep cycle.  It can be a relief to wake up.

I sometimes wonder if I should try sleeping with a nicotine patch on to see if I'm waking up to smoke.  When I'm up at all hours, I do smoke.  I've been trying to cut back.  Truth is that if I could sleep, I'd reduce my smoking by half a pack a day, easy.  Yet my other doctor says wearing a patch at night is not to be recommended.  And I'm never sure whether the chicken or the egg comes first.  Do I smoke because  I'm awake, or do I wake because I need to smoke?

This has been a long term problem.  It goes back to childhood.  It's why I developed an addiction to alcohol.  When I was drinking, I could simply keep drinking till I slept.  "Passing out" is what my psychiatrist insists on calling it, and she's right.  But at least I was unconscious.  Don't worry, I'm not going down that road again because after a while there is a fine line between unconsciousness and death.

So simple a thing.  Sleep.  We take it for granted til we can't. 

Disability, Justice, and Prudence

Dealing with being mentally ill, and dealing with the mentally ill, is difficult.  There are no easy answers.  Life is filled with compromises.  And its hard to know exactly what is the appropriate response.

Disability.  I was fortunate to be covered under a good disability plan when I hit my crisis point.  I ended up receiving benefits for approximately two years, which gave me a window of opportunity to devote myself entirely to the healing process.  The only major complaint I had regarding that plan and the way it was administered was with respect to the way they terminated the benefits, basically without notice and retroactive.  I received my monthly payment, and then ten days later received notice that I would receive no more.  Little opportunity to make changes.  But we survived.

One of the questions I struggle with is the degree to which being bipolar remains a disabling condition.  Does the 'potential' of manic or depressed episodes constitute an impediment for employment?  One of the struggles with dealing with the disability plan is they loved to ask the question "How are you doing right now?"  Well, even while actively cycling between mania and depression, there can be a lot of time that one is within the normal spectrum of moods.  Employers, though, are not content with someone who is able to function normally MOST of the time.  

Risk.  And triggers.  My biggest concern about returning to the workforce had to do with the possibility that the stress of work might trigger a manic phase.  Two of the potential symptoms identified with mania are

• Increase in goal-directed activity (either socially, at work or school; or sexually) or psychomotor agitation
• Excessive involvement in pleasurable activities that have a high potential for painful consequences (e.g., engaging in unrestrained buying sprees, sexual indiscretions, or foolish business investments)

There's that word.  Sex.  Sexual misconduct is the cardinal sin of being a pastor.  And there is the potential for it in a manic episode.  I became convinced that as I was being evaluated for return to the active ministry that my health care team was intentionally not making a recommendation lest they incur liability in the event of a manic episode involving some sort of misconduct.  And I genuinely wondered if it was wise or prudent for the Church to allow someone who is bipolar to be a pastor given the fact that manic episodes may involve sexual indiscretions.  Fair question.

But is it just?  People who own guns are more likely to shoot someone than people who do not have a gun.  But would we deny employment to a person solely on the basis that they possess a gun and hence the ability to shoot someone?  (I think about this in part because there are numerous individuals who bring their firearms to work everyday at the cabinet shop where I'm employed.)  The answer is that we rarely discriminate against someone purely on the basis of the potential for a particular behavior.

I posed the question to the former assistant to the Bishop of our synod who handles candidacy, and his response was straight forward.  "Would you approve a bipolar person for candidacy?"  "I would simply ask 'Are you under a doctor's care?', and if you are, there is no problem."

But there remains the question of prudence.  It is probably good to be somewhat cautious.  But when does caution give way to prejudice and injustice.  Given the choice of two candidates, similarly qualified, would a congregation show a prejudice against the candidate who is bipolar?  In many cases, yes.  That's reality.

And yet a certain degree of caution is in order.  One of the thoughts I have had regarding my future in the ordained ministry is that I should seek out an opportunity to serve as part of a team, under the direction of the lead pastor.  This would allow me to serve as I am able, but have the safety net of the ongoing direction of the lead pastor that would tend to preclude my heading in an unhealthy direction because of my disease.  Not a lot of opportunity for that within our synod, but its a thought.

I am deeply grateful for the small congregation I do serve at the current time.  There are questions regarding how long this relationship is viable, but they have to do with the congregation's situation not my own.  This congregation has a history of supporting a pastor through significant personal and familial issues.  They welcomed me with the words "Your health is not a matter of our concern."  I count my blessings.  

As I struggle with these issues, and in the name of mental health awareness, let me make three important observations:

1. A mental health diagnosis may be disabling, but often is not.  People who are mentally ill and significantly impaired in their ability to function should qualify for disability benefits.  People who are mentally ill but still able to function should not be disqualified for employment.  Too often, I fear, mentally ill people are considered just functional enough to not qualify for disability benefits, but not functional enough to qualify for employment.  
2. It is just to discriminate on the basis of actual behaviors.  But, especially for one who is in treatment, discriminating against a mentally ill person on the basis of potential behaviors, symptoms that are under control through treatment, is unjust.  
3. Caution and awareness is the safety net for both the mentally ill person and the employer.  As I've said many times, if I propose something with a price tag of over a million dollars, ask questions.  That's reasonable.

I am not what uninformed people think.  I'll admit my own past prejudice here.  Ignorance of mental health issues often results in judgments being made that are not fair.  I've made those judgments.  You likely have too.  And then I had to confront the reality of who I am as a bipolar person.  That's different than a prejudiced imagination.  

My deepest wish is that we might proceed to the point as a society that a mentally ill person would only have to deal with the diagnosis and treatment of the disease, and not with a social stigma attached to that disease.  Life is difficult enough as it is, let's not add insult to injury.

61, And miles to go before I sleep. . .

61.  "There comes a point in life when you realize that when people talk about the youth in America, they are not talking about you."  Yea, well, that point came and went a long time ago.

I think about aging, in part because of the death of my father this last year.  To age gracefully seems like a good goal.  I feel two things:  One, that there is not an abundance of time left.  And two, that there are many things left that I still look forward to. 

I've set my sights on retirement, but not until I'm 70.  Don't know if that will work out, but that seems most logical at this point.  Choosing a timeline for retirement when one doesn't have a lot of resources is a bit of a conundrum.  If you retire too early you may not have the funds to live as you would like to live.  If you wait to long to retire you may not have the health and opportunity to do that which you've been looking forward to doing throughout your life. 

I still long for a significant vocational engagement to cap off my working career.  Perhaps, I've found it already.  Perhaps the door has yet to open.  What I am aware of is that if there is to be a change, the window of opportunity is now.  Although, 60 is the new 40, right?  Plenty of fuel left in the tank.  Hopefully, the opportunities to go with that. 

The bucket list.

I have longed for the day to be able to create 'masterpieces' in my shop apart from the restraints of what I could sell.  I'd like to leave a legacy of work that will be cherished by my children, and their children for years to come.  Will I have the resources to purchase the wood to do that?  One example of the challenge:  I shared with the kids that prior to selling my CNC I'd like to make them all a dining set.  Currently, though, none of them are in a house or at a point in life that the dining set would be really useful.  You got to have a dining room first.  That will come with time.  Can't afford the wood now, anyway.

I'd love to create something extraordinary, utilizing all my skills as a woodworker.  A house.  A boat.  One of my long term plans was that during the first years of retirement I would build Karla and I a house, which by doing it myself, would greatly benefit us financially throughout our retirement years.  The biggest obstacle to that is whether my aging body is up to that challenge.

A boat.  Truth be told, spending my final years building a beautiful boat only makes sense if the kids desire to have a boat throughout their lives.  Boats have a tendency to be either a prized possession or an albatros.  It has been said that the happiest two days in the life of a boat owner are the day you get the boat, and the day you sell it. 

And then there is ministry.  I don't know what the future holds, but I'm deeply convinced that I'm not done yet.  Part of that is purely personal.  Throughout the twenty five years that I was under a full time call, I struggled with being bipolar, though it hadn't been diagnosed, and in the later years with alcoholism.  I now am being successfully treated for my bipolar disorder, and have over five years of sobriety under my belt.  I am convinced that in the right situation, I am better suited for ministry than I've ever been.  I hope for the opportunity to prove that.

I love the life Karla and I have together.  We can be doting grandparents, especially Karla as she has the opportunity to spend a lot of time with Jasper.  How much does that opportunity to live in the same community as two of our kids and to have the opportunity to be involved daily with our grandchild play into the decisions we will make regarding the next ten years?  This is a question of vocation.  We are called to be parents and grandparents.  I feel called to the ministry.  Will one have to be sacrificed for the sake of the other?  Or will an opportunity to devote ourselves to both materialize? 

Hope abounds.  As I turn 61 today I have a lot of hope for the future.  Many things to look forward to.  I am not yet at the point of saying that my best years are behind me.  I still envision that the best is yet to come. 

Talked with my pastor yesterday, in part about the way we evaluate our situations.  It's easy to get into 'future tripping',  totally caught up in thinking five to ten years down the line.  I'm content with life today, sort of.  What I can say is that today I'm up to the task.  Each morning I begin with the conviction that "Yes, I can do this today".  Where I struggle is in answering the question "Can I do this for the next ten years?"

Perhaps a more important question is what role I can play in shaping the future for the next ten years.  Bucket lists don't get done if you simply live in the moment.  "Find your passion, and take the first step today."  That's how we create a tomorrow that meets our hopes and expectations.  And don't miss the fact that simply to have hopes and expectations is to truly be blessed. 

I could do that. . .

Bizarre night.  I cannot remember the full dreams but what I do remember is bizaar.

I dreamt I was President.  And at a meeting, that was strangely like a congregational meeting, not congressional, I had the opportunity to meet Kim Jong Un, who happened to be incredibly warm and friendly.  At one point, I leaned over in the pew (remember this was like a congregational meeting) and spoke to Kim Jong Un about, well, nothing in particular, but rather told him we'd just pretend to be speaking about something of great consequence to see how the world reacted. . .

Remember this was a congregational meeting.  I also remember that there was a vote to terminate me from a call, which I had resigned from five years ago.  I wasn't upset about the result, as I'd already resigned five years ago, but I did rise to a point of order because the votes in favor of terminating the call exceeded the total number of people present at the time of the establishing of a quorum.  "Well, this officially terminates our relationship." was my response, again strange because my resignation was five years ago. . .

After the vote, Kim Jong Un was not so friendly.

I'm of the opinion that dreams are but a random association of thoughts and emotions, and shouldn't be taken too seriously.  But let's just say that sometimes those random associations of thoughts and emotions are truly bizarre.

Then on to a different type of dream, this one while awake. 

Yesterday I was surfing the web, looking for options to restore my father's boat, which after fifty years could use a facelift.  Then, I looked at plans for building a boat from scratch, a big boat, a classic design.  One part of that dream would be to have the boat for my retirement, imagining cruising Lake Pend Oreille with family and friends.  And then, considering the difficulty of building such a boat given my current schedule at work, I imagine doing so as my work.  People will spend big bucks for a beautiful boat, why not let them spend it on me?  It'd be more fun than making closet shelving at my current job in Hayden.

And then another possibility strikes me.  If I really want to make money, building houses is more lucrative, easier, and has a greater market than boats.  I have considerable equity in my current home, in large measure because it has appreciated greatly over the last five years.  That together with a financial partner might allow me to build a spec home.  Perhaps if this was done a few times successfully I could get myself both a livable wage, and also end up owning a home free and clear prior to retirement.  Dream.  Dream.  Dream.

Two things.  First of all, neither building a boat nor a house is beyond my skill set.  I've done both.  A boat is but an elaborate piece of furniture, that floats.  And assembling 2 x 6's into a house is simple compared with building a roll top desk.  But secondly, as a bipolar person I have to be extremely cautious about hatching plans of significant magnitude.

It's that second piece that can get really frustrating as a bipolar person.

You see, risky business ventures and massive spending sprees are warning signs of a manic episode.  Caution is needed.  And yet that caution can also undermine all creativity, resourcefulness, and productivity.  The struggle for a manic person is discerning the difference between a risk and a responsible course of action.  I now see my investment in a CNC router as a symptom of my last manic episode, though at the time it seemed like a reasonable business investment.  And perhaps it was and could have been highly successful if I'd just had the right break or two in developing the business. 

If there is a disability that comes as a result of being bipolar it is this, that discernment is, and always will be, suspect.  "Consult with others" and proceed with caution is one response to this.  However, I have found that part of my manic capabilities is to be able to make a rather convincing case for what I envision.  I've talked the church into spending millions of dollars, another congregation into forming a parish with two neighboring churches, my wife into letting me cash in retirement funds to purchase the CNC, etc..  Actually, I've been quite successful in many of my manic endeavors.  As I've said before, I'm quite convincing in my manic phases, though this is more difficult now that others are in on my dirty little secret. 

And then there's my other vocation, that of being a pastor.  How bold dare I be with respect to the redevelopment of my current congregation, or the pursuit of another call?  The reality is that if finances were not an issue, redevelopment of my congregation would be greatly aided by relocation from Otis Orchards to Liberty Lake where all the development and growth is happening.  But red flags arise, aplenty.  Million dollar price tags equal major warning signs of manic thought patterns.  And yet it was our Director of Evangelical Mission who identified the only hope for our congregation as being establishing a presence in the Liberty Lake community.  Sigh.

One of the things I consider when thinking about vocation is that perhaps what I need to strive for is to be a faithful and diligent soldier, and not the commanding officer.  To devote myself to serving a cause and a purpose that others have "reasonably" established is probably much better than my being the person doing the conceptualization and charting the direction.  The advantage of working in a cabinet shop in Hayden is that I'm not the one determining the risk/reward issues.  I simply produce.

But by nature, I'm a  leader.  A creative, innovative leader.  That's my passion. 

Guided innovation.  Directed leadership.  And channeled creativity.  Maybe that's the ticket.  To serve as called to serve, and yet to do so within the parameters others establish.

One last thought.  I could finance the construction of a beautiful boat by selling the CNC.  Oops.  There I go again.

Living in the Now

"Without a vision the people perish", yet a vision of what might be can also obscure the beauty of what is.

As I negotiate the sometimes tumultuous waters of being bipolar, it strikes me that my greatest asset and most significant liability are one and the same.  I am constantly consumed with concerns about tomorrow, captivated by visions of the possibilities that might be, and judging what is (reality) in comparison to that vision (imagination) of what may yet come.  As an asset this fuels a lot of creativity and a drive to create a better tomorrow.  As a liability it often prevents a contentedness with the blessings of today.

For a bipolar person this manifests itself in the tension between mania and depression.  And I believe and experience that being bipolar does not just mean that over time I will have manic episodes and cycles of depression, but that at any given time, there is a tension in my psyche between the two.  The manic side of my brain is consumed with future possibilities.  The depressed side struggles with what is and how far short that falls from the future that could be.

This is an ongoing conversation within me, a dialectical tension that charts the course of my life.

I serve as a pastor.  It's a good thing.  I continue my work in the cabinet shop.  It's a good thing.  I am capable in both areas.  Together those two vocations provide an adequate living, and we see on the horizon some hopeful signs with respect to our budget.  The bottom line is that if I stay in today, there is a tremendous amount to be thankful for.  We live in a community of our choice, with two of our children close by, and with the priceless opportunity to be present with our only grandchild on a day to day basis.  For the first time in my life, we live in a home that we own.  We've just celebrated 40 years of marriage, an accomplishment of no small order as together we've had to face the challenges of alcoholism and mental health issues.

Yet there is that constant discontent that is both disabling and motivating.  I rarely get a day off.  I'm go to bed at 7 pm, often waking as early as 1 or 2 am, leaving for work by 4:45.  On the days I work in the cabinet shop exclusively, I put in a ten hour shift from 5:30 to 4:00.  That's the light day.  Other days I work at the cabinet shop till 12:30, and then at the church throughout the afternoon, and once a week into the evening.  The base line commitment I've made is to work 60 plus hours a week, plus the commuting time.  And then I nap.

More than anything it is the grueling grind of this schedule that stimulates both the depression (is this all there is) and the mania (being consumed with the boundless opportunities I envision for tomorrow).  But there is also a reasonable and healthy concern, neither manic nor depressed, that simply strives toward sustainability.  Can I reasonably demand of myself keeping a schedule that routinely involves leaving home at 4:45 am and not returning home until 10 pm?  I'm committed to working until I'm 70, nine more years, but can I do that at 70?

One of the handicaps of being a pastor is that we have an understanding of the "Call" that generally mandates that the initiative come from the calling organization, and not from the pastor.  This piety of call renders pastors largely passive in the process.  As a matter of faith, then, one hopes that the right opportunity present itself, and yet one must also be somewhat cautious about 'pursuing and creating' that opportunity.  I was once advised against taking initiative in the call process because there will come a time in each call that it will be crucial to know that you are where you are because God called you there, and not just because you yourself created that opportunity.  When I can remember this it calms my soul a bit.  It eases the anxiety regarding tomorrow.  Which brings us back to today.

In an hour and a half, I'll leave for work.  I'll drive the forty miles to Hayden, put in my seven hour shift.  Then I'll head over to Otis Orchards, eating my sandwich along the way.  Once there I'll meet with an individual considering using our church as a  place to do spiritual direction.  I'll change the reader board out front.  Prepare for Sunday.  Then around five I'll head back north to Sandpoint, and when I arrive home my wife will have a home cooked meal prepared.  I can do that today.

One day, I hope to have more time for leisure activities.  For example, its been two  years since I licensed our little boat.  No time to do some needed maintenance, and no time to use it either.  It would be nice to play a round of golf.  Even go to the driving range.  I would like to be able to fill out a job application and indicate that I have more hobbies than napping.

And yet that is not now.

And I prefer this to what was a few years back.  Yes the work schedule is grueling at times, but there was a time I couldn't work.  Working twelve hour days is better than spending day after day immobilized on the couch.

Well, enough for now.  My alarm will sound (I'm always up before it, but still set it for 3:30 so that I proceed to get breakfast and a shower on schedule) and then breakfast, a shower, perhaps a few minutes catching a little nap, and then into the car for the drive.  That's my now.

No referral needed

"I'll be retiring March 31st."  "You are doing just fine."

These were the words of my psychologist this month.  His retirement is welcome for him, though he admitted to some ambivalence.  He will miss the intimacy of his therapeutic relationships.  And it signals for me a milestone.  What he did not say was that we'd need to get me referred to another therapist.  He reflected on all his notes from the last year, and remarked how stable I'd been and affirmed that I'm in a healthy place.  No referral necessary.  I'm good to go.  It's time to fly solo.

I admit to some ambivalence.  The professional intimacy of a therapeutic relationship is a friendship of sorts that is rare.  It is not an overstatement to say that there is no one else on the face of this earth that knows more about me.  He has probed with me the depths of my soul and psyche and throughout it all has been an affirming, challenging, and healing presence.  But now there will be one more session, and closure.  It's time to fly solo.

I will continue seeing my psychiatrist.  This is necessary because of the medication regimen I am on.  So flying solo isn't totally alone.  And should I need it, I will trust her to refer me to another therapist.

For now though, no referral is needed.

I admit to feeling a bit like a kid, learning to ride a bike, who realizes that dad has let go and is no longer balancing the bike.  You know the feeling.  Simultaneously crying out "wait, don't let go!" but also being thrilled to realize that you are riding on your own.

When my disability benefits terminated I had similar emotions.  The process of termination was, in my opinion, cruel, without warning, and could have been handled much better.  And with the termination of benefits came the loss of the safety net that had sustained us through the tough times. But, there was also a positive.  Their evaluation was that I was no longer disabled.  You are good to return to the workforce.

And then there is a part of me that feels the need to cry out to the world "I'm OK!"

Part of the stigma of dealing with a mental illness diagnosis is that concerns linger.  So the insurance company determines I'm no longer disabled in any way.  My therapist determines that I'm healthy and do not need any further therapy.  But what about the world?  What about my family?  What about the Church?

For the last five years I've been out of the fire, so to speak.  For the purposes of my healing I've been sheltered in relatively low stress situations.  An unanswered question is whether the state of my health is such that I can engage again in more challenging situations without compromising everything that has been achieved.  Yet the fear of relapse can itself be disabling.  But it is only a fear.  And I hear the voice of Jesus say "Fear not, for I am with you."

Some clarity is emerging.  I know what I want.  I want to complete my years in my vocation serving to the full extent of my abilities.  I do not want to simply fade away.  I do not want to be restricted to semi-retirement until I can fully retire.  The bottom line is I'm probably healthier now than I've ever been, and I crave the opportunity to serve on that basis.

Yet there is another dimension.  To accept life on life's terms.  I do not know what life will offer me.  The fact is that even if I had been totally healthy up to now, I'm 61 years old.  There is age discrimination.  I may envision working till I'm 70, but many employers would view me as a shortimer.  It may be that my desire to reenter the workforce, that my hopes to cap off my career with a challenging and rewarding call, maybe thwarted by the two strikes against me, my age, and my history of mental illness.  That may be the reality.  I think that if it is so, its unfortunate.  But life is not always fair.

Confidence.  Health is one issue.  Confidence is another.  So my psychologist has determined that I'm in a healthy place.  He is confident in my ability.  Am I?  And have I been stable enough, long enough, that others are confident too?

If someone is cancer free for five years, or so, a degree of confidence emerges.  One might even dare say that one is 'cured'.  One may also stop thinking of oneself as a cancer patient and start thinking of oneself as a survivor.

I wonder if I'll ever experience that as one with a mental health diagnosis.

My official diagnosis regarding my chemical dependency is "in remission".  Is that a status the world will allow regarding being bipolar.

My son is a chemical engineer.  One of the things he points out is there is no difference chemically, between man made compounds and natural compounds.  Chemistry is chemistry.

So I am healthy today.  What that means is that the chemistry within my brain is balanced.  For me that is achieved through medication.  But chemistry is chemistry.  That I have the correct balance in chemicals in my brain is all that really matters.  What doesn't matter is whether that occurs 'naturally', or through medication.  Chemistry is chemistry.

I find hope in that.  And regardless what life throws at me, I know I'm in a better place to deal with it.  Yes, I wonder what the future holds for me, vocationally.  Too soon to tell for sure.  So I tend to the task at hand.  One of the things I do to find meaning and purpose is to write.  Many of you read this because of our friendship.  But I actually don't write for you.  I have received feedback from others who are bipolar, or who deal with other mental health issues, that has affirmed what I am doing as being genuinely helpful for them.  And so I see this as a calling.

Perhaps, writing from a place of health and wellbeing after having negotiated through the tough times of being mentally ill is the higher calling that I have.  I offer it up as hope for those still in the throws of the disease.  I didn't die.  It hasn't destroyed me.  And the fears associated with it were not real, they were just emotions.  Hope.

Making a difference.

One of the problems associated with being bipolar is that one's thought patterns are, uh, bipolar.  They tend to come from the two ends of the spectrum.  At one end of the spectrum is unbridled optimism that sees no limits and craves the opportunity to transform the world.  At the other end of the spectrum is debilitating resignation to what is.

During one of my  more pronounced manic phases I hatched a plan to transform and empower the Church's ministry.  It was based on my experience developing Luther Park at Sandpoint, our congregation's senior housing ministry.  I proposed using this model as a means of fueling Church growth across the nation.  Elements of the plan included:

1. Initiating a new ministry based on the development of Senior Housing in conjunction with a new congregational start.
2. Operating the "not for profit" senior housing, as a "for profit" enterprise, and using the revenue generated by the senior housing to support first, the new congregational start, and second, further expansion of the Church's ministry elsewhere.  The proforma developed for the proposed new ministry in the Boise area projected a total of 225 units to be developed, and would in short order, when leased up, produce about a million dollars annually of positive cash flow.  A significant amount.
3. In addition, I envisioned a day care for the children of staff and the community to be developed as part of the ministry.  It was conceived of as a quality of life issue, surrounding seniors with children, and children with seniors, and providing day care for the many staff members that would need it.
4. The hopes also included a nucleus of multicultural ministry, as many of the staff would likely come from the Hispanic population in the area. 
5. And finally, and most importantly, I envisioned this model as being capable of duplication throughout the country and offering to the Church a means of self supporting mission expansion.

This entrepreneurial approach to ministry had its merits.  I was able to sell the idea to the powers that be, enough so to get the Church to purchase the land for the development.

What went wrong?

The damn economy collapsed.  Non-recourse financing, upon which the project was conceived, ceased to be available.  Projects that used to be financeable based on their own merits now required considerable 'skin in the game' by the parent organization, including both collateral and the ability to back the loan.  And the market shrank for senior housing with the collapse of the housing bubble.  Thankfully, the millions of dollars that were spent will in time, be recoverable.  At least I hope so.

At the other end of the spectrum one can get locked into a depressed resignation to the way life is and become convinced that nothing can be done to change the outcome.  Depression.  Pessimism.  

There is a danger of falling victim to that in my current call.  The congregation I'm serving has, for a variety of reasons, experienced a decline in membership and  worship attendance over the last few decades.  It is at the point that if we lose a member, the budget needs to be reworked.  We're that close to the line.  

What can we do?  I fight the tendency to resign myself to a belief that there is nothing we can do.  We are victims of the drift in our society toward a secularism that excludes involvement with the Church, and that social trend is not going to be reversed by any effort on our part.  OK, so is that depression or honesty that results in such thoughts?l

The truth is that the sociological and demographic shifts in our country are real and profound.  It's not just one congregation that is declining.  Across every denomination in the country the experience is being shared by congregation after congregation.  As much as I'd like to believe otherwise, posting my sermons on Facebook and boosting them throughout the community is not likely to alter the current trend in our nation.  Would that I be so profound and gifted to do that.  I'd write a book and retire.  

Unbridled optimism.  Depressed resignation.  Polar opposites.  Bipolar thought patterns.

Somewhere in the middle there is a balance that represents a healthy, realistic, world view.

Every journey begins with one step.  Current trends will not continue forever.  

Perhaps the healthy balance is to forge a middle ground between 'you can change the world', and 'there's nothing you can do', toward an outlook that simply affirms that 'you can make a difference'.  

I think that is what I currently desire more than anything else.  Simply to make a difference.  This happens one person at a time.  Tom Cable of the Seattle Seahawks made the observation regarding Thomas Rawls, one of the Seahawk's running backs that "you can't become a thousand yard rusher on a single play".  Success as a running back involves slogging it out a few yards at a time.  And repeating that.

Pentecost was a miracle.  Three thousand baptisms in one day.  Billy Graham would have been proud.  We have had one adult baptism this last year in our congregation.  One person who was adopted through baptism as a child of God.  That's one person more than no persons.  One step in the right direction.

I have found hope, and I believe a healthy balance, in the agricultural images for the life cycle of the Church.  There is a time for tilling.  A time for planting.  A season of growth. And a time of harvest.  

Now this is the thing.  If you try to harvest the corn on the 4th of July you are going to be disappointed.  "Knee high by the 4th of July" means, among other things, that there will not be any cobbs until later.  I have come to believe deeply that we are at a time of tilling and planting in the Church, not a time of harvest.  "It's springtime in America" is not a pessimistic statement.  But springtime is not harvest time.  

In the midst of all this a bipolar person does well to retrain those thought patterns.  Life is lived best in the middle ground between the polar opposites.  Sober optimism.  Realistic hope.  Achievable ambition.  Making peace with the tension between mania and depression.  This is not a lukewarm existence.  It is neither static nor explosive.  It is not a lifeless equilibrium.  

You can change the world make a difference.  

And making a difference, however small, is sufficient.

On Hope and Healing

Early in the morning I sit in the blessed silence of this new year, reflecting on what has been and wondering what is yet to be.  Life is good.  For a bipolar person this is an accomplishment.  Treatment has been successful, though is always an ongoing process.  There is no cure, only effective management.  Take your meds and don't write checks for more than a million dollars without consulting others first!

As I continue to live into recovery I am struck by one reality that continues to define my life, and perhaps lies at the root of an unsettledness about my existence.  It has to do with my vocation and calling.

Since successfully going through chemical dependency treatment, and being diagnosed as being bipolar and treated for the same, there has been a caution exhibited regarding my capabilities.  This has resulted in myself, my family, my health team and the church being extremely careful and concerned about the situation in which I serve, lest I experience triggers that might bring on a relapse or set back.  What I find ironic is that I had no restrictions when I was a drunk manic depressive, but now that I'm sober and enjoying the greatest mood stability of my life, the restrictions, formal and informal still are in place.

Lets just say that there is a degree of caution that all of us, aware of my situation, exhibit, and perhaps it's warranted.  No one, including myself, wants to see a recurrence and that does affect our attitudes. 

And yet my deepest desire is to be able to 'fly' again, this time sober and stable.

I find myself assessing my health with the dawn of a new year.

• Depression, which was disabling, is gone now, hopefully forever.  Better living through chemicals.  
• Anxiety is at an all time low.  The uncertainty about my future, our financial stability, etc., would normally have produced great anxiety.  Amazingly this is not so.  It will work out is the living conviction.  
• Mania, that exuberant friend and foe, has not been present for a little over 4 years now.  That's a good sign.
• Sleep is another matter.  In general I get sufficient sleep. My life and work schedule have me sleeping at non-typical hours, going to bed early, waking even earlier.  I would wish for a more normal pattern and extended sleep without the constant arousal and waking.  But I'm functioning.
• I haven't tried to save the world recently.
• I have been working on the ability to 'not engage' in matters that really are not my problem.
• I see more light than darkness.

In general I feel good.

It's not that life doesn't have its ups and downs.  I currently serve a small parish with only about 20 in worship on a Sunday morning.  During my 'up times' I'm optimistic that we can right the ship, and with new development coming in the community grow as a congregation.  During my 'down times' I fear that a small congregation like this just does not have the critical mass necessary to attract new members.  And yet these highs and lows are moderate, within a normal range.  

I do find myself contemplating the future and what it holds.  I'll be honest, I really desire the opportunity to be fully engaged in ministry and to be able to test my wings now that I'm sober and stable.  Whether that happens within the context of this call, or in a new call, or not at all is the question.

I'm personally torn between a piety that says "God will place me exactly where I need to be" and a sense that I need to be proactive in seeking out that which will be fulfilling.  Its probably a little bit of both.  

This internal debate becomes a bipolar issue when it manifests itself as either fatalistic resignation or a conquest.  Depression or mania.  

Dare to dream the dream.  

Kennon Callahan, a church consultant, once said that one of the most critical questions for a congregation is whether they see their best  years as being behind them, or still yet to come.  This is my question now.  Have I already experienced the apex of my ministry, or is the best yet to come?

What is difficult is that the answer to that question is somewhat out of my control.  That's where faith comes in.  We live by faith.  It's not just a resignation, but a conviction.  We tend to the task at hand, we stand ready to respond to a new day, and we remain steadfast in our belief that in the end, God is in charge.  I'm reminded of the experience during my early morning commutes to Hayden.  There are those occasions where the weather leaves the road obscure and I find myself following the taillights in front of me.  There is a significant amount of faith involved in trusting that if you just follow those lights, and those who have gone before you, that you will be fine.

2018.  Hope.  But no certainty.  Life is an ambiguous journey.  And that may have to suffice.