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.