Carpe Cogitatio

Carpe Cogitatio.

Don't know for  sure that is correct, but it seemed like a good title.  Seize the thoughts.

I attended the Synod Assembly this last week.  We had a bishop's election.  Six years ago I was a candidate for bishop, though with the current bishop up for reelection there was not a significant chance of getting elected at that time.  

"Are you happy not to be experiencing the anxiety of being a candidate today?"  It was a question that was harder to answer than I imagined.  I'm delighted that in the end we elected a younger, energetic, and vibrant pastor to that position.  Given the state of my health every rational thought I have, is that my being a candidate for that position would not be a good thing.  Gratitude.  And yet disappointment.

I realized later that the most honest response would have been "I wish I was well enough to have been considered."

"Are you well, David?"  I struggled to answer that question throughout the weekend.  "Yes, I'm doing well."  Sometimes the opportunity was there to go through a more extensive answer.  I thought about that question a lot.  I was reminded of the words of a young man during the early days of my ministry.  He had AIDS.  "I have a very serious disease, but right now I'm not sick."

Carpe Cogitatio.  For lack of a better term, this is what I experience even now during the good times.  My thought patterns remain subject to being seized by this disease.  I know not to act on them.  I recognize them for what they are.  But they are there, and uncontrollable.  

I'm sitting in worship.  Trying to focus on the liturgy, the sermon, and to relish to be able to worship without being the leader.  Hymns are sung.  Lessons are read.

And then in the midst of it my thoughts are seized, and I'm carried away.  One of the most frequent and curious thought cycles I go through is that I'm the President. POTUS.  The focus is not on the drudgery of that most demanding position, but rather on some peripherals.  I imagined returning to our Synod Assembly as President.  

This train of thought gets oddly particular.  I imagine holding a town hall meeting, a time of conversation at 5:00 am.  (So as not to conflict with the business of the day.)  I imagine being asked to be the guest preacher.  I imagine mundane things like going and coming from the event.

A door is open.  I see the back hallways of the convention center.  And then a horrific thought.  I imagine being ushered through these back corridors in the building for security reasons.  And then I remember that photo of Robert Kennedy lying on the kitchen floor, his head held by the dish boy. . .  I wonder how often President's think about such things.

I'm preaching.  The most powerful man in the world preaching at a Synod Assembly.  First there are the Presidential words, and then, "Grace to you and peace. . ."  "We are in the presence  of greatness, of the most powerful force in the world.  With one word everything changes.  This power, present in a little bread, a little wine, stands in contrast to all the nuclear bombs.  For this is a power to create, not destroy."

I shake myself.  "What is Bishop Wells preaching about?"  I want to listen.  

Grandiosity is a symptom of bipolar disorder.  Sometimes psychotic episodes as well.  I comfort myself with the fact that I've never actually shown up at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue expecting to be let in.  Underlying these thought patterns is a desire for a global pulpit.  On a more reasonable level, this blog gives me an outlet for that desire, though the numbers are modest, I do have readers from around the world.  

I withdraw to the designated smoking area outside of the building.  Reality returns.  I'm in control once again of the thoughts within my head.  And yet at the same time I am struck by how out of control these thought patterns can be.  I can't imagine ever, EVER, being a politician.  Not my cup of tea.  But then I am the President.

One of the reasons to write about these secret thoughts, is to bring them out into the day light.  Perhaps such honesty will cause them to dissipate.  The burden of being President is too much for me to bear right now.  I'm content to be a parish pastor and woodworker.  

And so for today, that is what I shall be.  

694

I was blown out of the water this morning.  As I opened up my other blog page, wanderingsthroughtheword.com the statistics on the home page surprised me.  Over 700 page views this week.  A little research and I discovered that 694 of those were from the nation of Israel.  

I had written a post about Psalm 137.  Perhaps that's what stimulated the surge in readers.  I don't know.  I wonder though.  My mind races.  And I am ever conscious of my own manic tendency toward a 'savior' mentality, and/or 'grandiose' thoughts.  

This is the way that works.  A simple fact that there were 694 page views from Israel.  It could be that something I wrote simply was picked up by the Google search engine, and resulted in the hits.  Did 694 people in Israel do a Google search on Psalm 137 and my post came up?  Could be that simple.  

But then I begin to wonder who those 694 people are.  Are they Christians, Jewish, or Muslim?  And is what I'm writing resonating with them.  From that my mind moves toward the question of ministry.  Have I stumbled into a new calling?  Has my blog become a platform for my own foreign missionary work?  Most of my page views come from the USA.  A sizable amount have come from Israel, and almost as many have come from the Ukraine.  
And then I wonder how I might make a significant difference.  My mind races. . .

Rein it in, Dave, rein it in.

I am not Israel's savior.  I am not destined to be the next Billy Graham.  

And then the verses come to mind, shared with me many years ago by a patient I came to know when I was serving as a hospital chaplain:

So shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55:11

This is the thing.  Amid all the concerns that I might be headed in the direction of mania, there is this hope that to the extent I am a minister of the Gospel, God's Word, not mine, might have an impact in the lives of those who hear it.  I am not the savior (as my manic side would like to believe), but at the same time there is a Savior, and of him we bear witness.  

One final thought:  Could it be that God harnesses and uses the gifts of bipolar people for the sake of a bold witness to the world?  Can it be that this disease that could destroy me, might also be a gift to empower me?

A second 'final' thought:  Coming out of depression does not necessarily mean that a manic episode is imminent.  It's quite possible that an extended period of mood stability and a healthy balance is actually what is being experienced.  That would be alright.