Lord, Now lettest now thy servant depart in peace. . .

For mine eyes have seen your salvation.

Inner peace is the realization that salvation is past tense.  It is the realization that what once had been merely a matter of hope, is accomplished, and continues to shape a new reality of life.  That battle has been won, now is a time of living into the victory.

Fear.  I must admit that over the last five and a half years fear has been a companion.  Fear of losing all that we had.  This journey began in all hopefulness.  Conversations with my church  council resulted in our mutually agreeing that I would continue serving til retirement, and in that light they offered me the opportunity to buy a house.  We did.

There was a backlash that erupted in the congregation.  The negative voices, long dormant, came to the surface.  Anger resulted.  Rage, actually.  And my world collapsed.  I've told the story before.  Six weeks after moving into our new home I was hospitalized for chemical dependency treatment, and for depression.  What followed was a disability determination, a resignation from my call, and the daunting challenge of meeting the mortgage payments with all my income now diminished and in question.  Then a loss of disability benefits.  A new job at a fraction of what I had been paid.  Etc.

The bottom line is I feared losing everything.  And in the end, lost nothing.  Not a payment has been missed.  Things have stabilized.  For every challenge faced, there has been a solution offered. 

Now is a time of peace.  At Peace.  Lutheran that is.  At least I hope it is.  The next couple of months will probably see an extension of a Call to permanent service there.  My work at the cabinet shop continues.  I'm hopeful.  Through a combination of efforts we have replaced much of the lost income.  And the home which I feared losing, has appreciated in value at the rate of about $2,000 a month.  Not a bad investment.

But the financial realities are minimal in comparison to the peace that is being experienced.  There is nothing to prove, just an invitation to remain faithful.  Trusting.  Hopeful.  And assured.

I continue to see a psychiatrist to monitor my meds, and a psychologist to monitor my moods.  But as I told my psychiatrist this last week, I basically am just keeping them on a retainer in case I need them in the future.  I don't want to be without access to them even though my current needs for therapy are minimal.

Peace.  I am in the process of evaluating options for retirement.  When can I retire from what?  Likely our move into retirement will be a step by step process, and not a definite date.  Some benefits may be started next year.  Others will wait. 

Options exist.  We'll be alright. 

It is with a certain amount of trepidation that I venture to say life is good.  Karla is in seventh heaven being able to be a homemaker again, and especially, caring for our  grandchild Jasper on a daily basis.  I am doing two things I love, pastoral ministry and woodworking.  And, I dare say, stress is low compared to other times in my life. 

Inner peace is the realization that salvation is past tense.

What I mean by that is that there was a time that with every fiber of my being I prayed that God would get me through this crisis.  And then, there is a wakening when one realizes that indeed, God has accomplished that.  The crisis is past.  "Salvation" has already happened.

But what is it about our makeup, my makeup, that holds on to the trepidation?  That is always waiting for the other shoe to fall?  "Lift me up when ever I fall, and never let me fade from the grace filled light of your own sight, and turns my night to day."  Words of my personal prayer.  A prayer that has been answered. 

I think the boldness of my hope at this point, and the source of my peace, is the recognition that though I have fallen numerous times, God has always 'lifted me up" and that has been sufficient. 

Sufficient.  Quite a concept.  It is enough.  We tend to always want more.  And don't always get it.  Sufficient is enough. 

It's not that there aren't hopes to experience some of the things we haven't yet had the opportunity to experience.  One day I hope to have the opportunity to build furniture unencumbered by the restraints of 'business'.  I'd like build what I want to build, utilizing all my creativity, without being limited by what I can sell.  To be able to do it for the pure joy of doing it.  That may happen.  Time will tell.

I hope that Peace Lutheran will turn the corner and start to grow again.  But ministry in the next few decades will likely be different than it has been.  One dimension of that is that I used to be able to see all the people I was preaching to.  Now, I have developed a cyber congregation.  There may be only a couple dozen in worship at Peace, but through the web as many as 350 people a week are reading the sermons.  Is that the shape of the church of the future?  It is not dissimilar to Baker, MT where our congregation broadcasted over the radio station and far more people heard the word via radio than were present in the pews.

There is freedom is being able to say "That is God's problem.  Not mine."

Just be at peace.  This is the life you have the opportunity to live.  Live it.

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.

The "Being" and the "Doing"

One of the hardest lessons I learned in my first parish was the difference between "being" the pastor, and "doing" pastoral ministry.  I was the first full time pastor in Thompson Falls.  They had built a parsonage for  us.  We received a joyous welcome.  And I set about my work.

I interpreted that their investments toward attaining a full time pastor were all about their desire to receive full time pastoral ministry.  And I set about trying to fulfill that goal.  My goal was to fill the church's calendar with programs and activities, and so to justify my position.

What I learned from them was that it was actually more important that I simply be seen around town, at the post office, in the grocery store, walking my dog.  As for all my  programmatic activity, it largely failed.  They were simply concerned that I would "be" their pastor.  They were not nearly so concerned about what I did.  Yes, there were moments of intense pastoral ministry.  But for the most part, I was paid to be there when needed, and the rest of the time simply to be the pastor.  

I realize now that after nearly three decades in ministry I'm in the same situation again.  The only things on our calendar are Sunday morning worship, and an adult ed class afterwards.  Aside from that, the boy scouts meet weekly, and the council meets monthly.  I do some visitation, but not a lot.  And this seems to be more my need than theirs.  We decorated the church for Christmas, and had a potluck.  We will go caroling.

But for hour after hour I sit in my office and wonder what am I doing to justify receiving a generous salary package.  The answer is, I am "being" their pastor.  Its as though they are saying to me "Do whatever you feel a need to do, that's fine with us, just be our pastor."

The manic side of me is just not content to master the art of "being".  I want a quest.  I'm a bit like a border collie in that regard.  Either give me work to do, or I'll make up my own.  

Two things I'm "doing".  First, I'm trying to see if I can get an AA meeting starting here in Otis Orchards.  There isn't one now.  The biggest challenge is where and how do you connect with people who are part of an organization that values above all else, anonymity.  Secondly, I am exploring how to use Facebook and my blogs as a means of evangelism, and an extension of my ministry here.

I've had 9,000 pageviews on this blog, and nearly 6,000 on my other blog, Wanderingsthroughtheword.com.  What amazes me is that I've had pageviews from every single continent, except Antartica.

Writing and posting is what satisfied my sense of calling while I was not in a parish.  Now, it fulfills my sense of call by giving me something to "do" in a parish whose primary need is for me to simply "be" their pastor.

That said, I find myself wrestling with the question of whether my drive to be doing something is symptomatic of my bipolar disease, or part of a genuine sense of call.  My bishop would probably say, "Well, yes, both."

I leave it at that for today, and get back to the holy work of being.