This and that

4:45 am and I awoke.  "Up early, again." some of you might say.  Well, no, actually, I slept in considerably.  But what is greatest about that is that it was a night that I slept without waking.  I'd stayed up a little later because of the Seahawks football game.  But even with that, normally I'd have awoken by 3:30 at the latest.  I leave for work by 4:45.  Nice to sleep.

I saw my neurologist, the sleep specialist, this last month.  He had been called by my insurance company.  Rozerem, the sleep medication  I'm on, is expensive.  They don't like that.  By expensive I mean approximately $10 a day.  He informed them that there is no other drug in that class, no other options, and so I believe that they have OK'd it once again.  One of the reasons I continue to see this doctor is that as a neurologist who specializes in sleep his word carries significantly more weight than would the word of a family practice physician. 

The reason for the expensive pill for my insomnia?  Well, for starters it is one of the few medications that can be taken long term without risk of addiction or significant side effects.  One of the others that I'd previously taken worked almost as well, it's just that there was a long term risk of liver damage and addiction.  I could just as well have continued with Scotch.  Thankfully, I'm good to go with Rozerem.  I think.

I keep on thinking to myself that I wish insurance companies would support medication that keeps me well, as opposed to risking my getting seriously ill once again.  For the most part they have.  And Abilify, the most expensive drug I am on is now available in generic form, and is but a fraction of what it once was.  It had been $30 a day.

My cynicism regarding my prescription drug coverage comes up from time to time.  I used to use our local pharmacy, and when I did Express Scripts, who manages the prescription drug coverage for our Church, would continually question every medication.  Even my latanoprost drops which I use because I'm pre-glaucoma.  Yeash, it's only a few dollars, why bother harassing my doctors about it. 

Well, you can also fill the prescriptions through Express Scripts pharmacy.  Funny thing, when they are selling them, and reaping the profit, they don't question them near as much.  Funny thing.  I wonder if Portico, the Church's insurance, knows that. 

On another note, I had my annual physical last month.  I'm doing well.  I've gained a little weight due to quitting smoking.  Doctor says I'd have to gain a hundred pounds to counteract the positives from quitting smoking.  It was also the first time he'd seen me since my bowel obstruction and surgery.  I was able to have laparoscopic surgery.  He shared with me how lucky we are to live today with all the medical advancements.  A hundred years ago I would have been told to just go to bed and die. 

I add that I do feel lucky.  A few pills a day and my bipolar disorder is well managed.  Yeah, they can be expensive, but the alternative of a lifetime of disability and going in and out of psych wards is more expensive.  Instead, I have my life back.

So life is good.  Praise God.

"Marian, Madam Librarian:"

Ah, the testing.  Insightful at times.  Questionable at times.  Humorous at times.

On Wednesday of this week I went and met with the psychologist that the synod had selected to review my readiness to resume pastoral ministry.  It was a marathon session, lasting from 11 in the morning to nearly 4 in the afternoon.  In addition to a lot of conversation with the psychologist and another mental health professional she had present, there was the MMPI to take.  The strongest result of the MMPI was that I was an introvert.  OK, I knew that.  Roughly 2/3 of all pastors are likewise introverts.  

What was most interesting was getting the results of the Strong Interest Inventory, a test aimed at getting at your ideal vocations.  At first glance the results seemed to be what I'd anticipate.  My five top interest areas were:

1. Religion and Spirituality
2. Counseling and Helping
3. Writing and Mass Communication
4. Performing Arts
5. Mechanics and Construction

Now, my immediate reaction was that for someone with  28 years of pastoral ministry experience, who is also an accomplished musician and furniture builder, these made a lot of sense.  Yep, that's who I am.

And then came the recommendation.  

The top ten occupations suggested were:

1. Librarian
2. Rehabilitation Counselor
3. Urban and Regional Planner
4. Architect
5. Editor
6. Training and Developmental Specialist
7. Musician
8. Human Resources Manager
9. Translator
10. Arts/Entertainment Manager

Librarian?  What?  Where did that come from?  Religious leader did show up on the list but it didn't make the top ten.  Librarian?

As I shared with the psychologist, there is nothing remotely interesting to me, at all, not the slightest bit, about being a librarian, at least as I understand that vocation, and I'll admit, that my understanding of it is limited.  Some of the suggested vocations make sense, though I'd question whether they were my top interests.  An editor, for example, would make sense if it involved writing editorials.  On the other hand, as someone who struggled more with foreign language classes than any other course work, translator seems a bit of a stretch.  Were I to change vocations, I could very much see myself as a chemical dependency counselor due to my background.  And at one point in my life, I was intent on becoming a professional tuba player, so that too makes sense.  

All that said, at the age of 59, all this talk of "preferred vocations", given my interests, is a bit of a moot point.  To retrain at this point (getting a degree in the library sciences, for example .  .  . ugh, the very thought makes me cringe,) would take a significant amount of time, money, and would not likely pay off in the long run.  I really would enjoy being an architect, true.  But I'm not about to go back to college, earn that degree, and then at the age of 63 or 64 try and break into a new career.  Not likely to become the next Frank Lloyd Wright.  

We did talk a lot about ministry.  I haven't seen her final report, yet, though I did press her for an initial reaction to our conversation.  Her primary concern that she shared was that I not relocate at this time.  It is essential that I be able to continue my relationship with my health care team as I'm still quite new at this business of living with a bipolar diagnosis.  That I would agree with 100%.  

Another reaction that came about in the conversation, was in response to my sharing that my wife has been concerned that reentry into ministry might trigger a relapse of the bipolar symptoms.  "What guarantees could you offer her?"  "In life, there are no guarantees." was my response.  I think that the best that I can offer, is that I now know how to respond should symptoms of mania or depression resurface.  That is helpful, regardless of what occupation I pursue.

A final thought:  The question came up about what precautions I might take to protect the congregation I serve from becoming a 'victim' of my manic impulses, should they arise.  My response-- I'll inform them that if I put any proposal on the council's agenda that involves spending more than a million dollars, they should check with the bishop first.  

Sound advice.  

"Crazy Dave"

"Crazy Dave"

That's a moniker that one of my supervisors at work uses for me.  Another supervisor has described my personality at work at mellow, and laid back.  The "crazy Dave" name is used in jest, as many of my coworkers carry similar nicknames, depending on who your talking about.  But whenever I hear it, I laugh to myself and think, "Oh, if only he knew."

Today,  I'm up early again as my mind is thinking about the evaluation I will be having.  After work this afternoon I am  heading to Richland, WA where I will be meeting with the Synod's psychologist tomorrow for an evaluation to determine my readiness to return to pastoral ministry.  I'm uncharacteristically at peace with this whole process.  I don't  perceive a problem.  But I do find certain things interesting.

One of the questions on the preliminary interview form that I was asked to fill out was about pornography.  "How often do you visit porn sites on the web?  Daily?  Occasionally?  Not at all?"  OK, so lets just say to begin with that viewing porn sites is generally "frowned upon in this establishment" that is our home.  Not only that, without having to rely on personal experience of porn sites, over my years in the ministry I have dealt with the harmful effects of porn in my parishioner's lives.  "Women like to be taken by force" is an actual statement made to a woman in my congregation by her spouse.  That man did not learn that from women, I can assure you, but from porn sites, no doubt.

As I've thought about that question though, I'm reminded of something I was told back in seminary days, during Clinical Pastoral Education, that psychological tests often have questions that are designed to measure, not any particular response, but the basic honesty with which the test is being answered.  "If you could get away with it, would you keep money that was not yours?" was one such question.  The assumption is that if we are being totally honest, all of us would do that given the opportunity, and the purpose of the question is to see if we're being honest enough to admit that.  I'm suspicious that the question about porn may be a similar "truth barometer".  

(For the record, as an adolescent victim of an abusive relationship with a band director, I was exposed to an unhealthy dose of pornography.  For example, he took me to "Clockwork Orange" while I was in junior high.  I found out then that the eroticism of porn is always mixed with its repulsiveness.)

I'm also going to be taking the MMPI.  Is that the one that asks repeatedly about whether or not you look at your stools after going to the bathroom?  I took one test years ago that did.  Repeatedly.  I thought that whoever wrote this test sure has a fascination with people's potty habits. 

All that aside, as I anticipate going through yet another evaluation I find myself confronted with the question of presentation.  When I was being evaluated for disability, those conducting the interviews were primarily interested in any sign of health that would enable them to deny my disability.  When being screened for fitness to return to work, there would be a natural tendency to focus on any evidence that would call into question whether I am ready.  And so there is this question of presentation, specifically, do you try to present yourself in a positive or negative light, depending on the nature of the evaluation.  When I was being evaluated for qualifying for disability benefits it is natural to focus on those things that prohibit one from functioning in a healthy manner.   As I'm being evaluated now for fitness to reenter the ministry, it is natural to try and present myself in a positive light, minimizing any difficulties.

Somewhere in the middle, lies the truth.  (Isn't that an interesting phrase?  "Lies the truth.")  There is part of me that longs for a comprehensive neutral evaluation.  Not skewed for any particular outcome, but which genuinely deals with the full spectrum of how I'm doing, without prejudice.

I think that if we can get to that, the conclusion would be something like this.  Through extensive use of medication and therapy, he's made significant progress in stabilizing his mood swings and is generally in a healthy place, though there will always be the risk that his moods could destabilize again due to certain triggers.  Continued monitoring and managing through medication and therapy will alleviate much of that risk, though not all.

Well, we'll see.

Torn between two lovers. . .

I'm happy to report that my insomnia has greatly improved now that I have gone back on Rozerem.  I actually slept all the way through the night on one occasion last week.  Thankfully, my wife heard my phone buzzing as I forgot and left it on vibrate.  That is only the second time in the last year that I have slept until the alarm rang.  I used to be able to sleep well into the morning.  Waking was hard, as was going to sleep.  But once asleep, I could remain asleep for 8 to 10 hours.  Today, I count it as a great accomplishment to sleep till the alarm rings at 3:45 am.  That's sleeping in.

This morning I awoke at 1:15 or so.  I laid back down for an hour.  But then, back up.

Part of the struggle is that I've grown to love the night.  I love the silent solitude.  The time to meditate.  To reflect.  To write.

And yet, when I sleep through the night, I'm much more productive during the day.  It feels good.  

The ongoing struggle with sleep is a reminder to me that, though I generally feel much better than I have in the past, there is still that ever present issue of my mental illness.  Manic times come and go.  As does the depression.  But the sleep disorder has been a constant.  

"May cause drowsiness. . ."  Four of my primary medications carry this warning.  When my physicians look at the list of drugs that I am on, their reaction tends to be that anyone of them should be sufficient to knock me out.  It would a normal person.  For example, Rozerem is a melatonin based medication, but, according to my doctor, 12,000 times more potent than the melatonin you can buy as a sleep aid.  And it helps.  But that is on top of three additional medications, some of which are themselves prescribed as sleep aids.  My brain seems to be like the Everready bunny - it just keeps on going. . .

Would that I could consistently sleep through the night.  And yet there would be a loss if I did.  That's my time.  Its when I think, and write.  A sermon that might take a good portion of the day to write, flows freely and quickly in the night.  

But I realize that there is something else going on.  Its a matter of identity.  This time has started to shape my identity.  As desperately as I want to sleep, there is also part of me that refuses to give up this part of my life.  Its a bit of a conundrum.  

Acceptance is one of the things I am learning through all of this.  Take each day as it comes.  There is little to be gained by wishing a particular day was different than it was.  Some nights I sleep better than others.  Some nights I enjoy the solitude and time to reflect.

One of the things that comes with that acceptance, is that it is a hedge against depression.  A major part of depression comes from the desire that things be different than they are, and the disappointment that they are not.  

To accept each day as it unfolds is to receive it with gratitude.  And a grateful heart is not a depressed heart.  And so today, this night, I'll simply give thanks for this time.  Perhaps in a while I'll be able to rest some more.  Perhaps, not.  It is what it is.  And that's alright.

Tranquility

It creeps up on you.  And then one day you realize that life is well.  All is calm.

Of course, those who have been reading my blog know that it has not always been that way.

For me, one of the signs that  things are much better is that I'm not sure if I should even be writing any more, or if I do, what should I write about.  Oh, my, no crisis, no clear manifestation of this disease, nothing that I could categorize according to the six major symptoms of mania, nor am I exhibiting signs of depression.

Sleep remains a problem.  True.  But it always has been.  I met with my neurologist, the sleep specialist on Friday, and I came to a conclusion.  When I lost insurance coverage for mental illness I also lost coverage for the one medication that had showed promise of really helping my insomnia - Rozerem.  At a cost of $300 or so per month, I felt at the time that I simply couldn't afford to continue it.  Now, with the hope that our financial situation will be improving, I am more convinced that $10 a day is a small price to pay, with or without insurance, to address this one last symptom.  And to be brutally honest, sleeping through the night would substantially reduce my smoking, and the cost thereof, offsetting some of the cost of the medication.  And so I'm going to try it.

The evaluations that I'm going through relative to my health are proceeding at a snail's pace.  First, my doctors, like so many, simply didn't drop everything to submit their reports to the Synod's psychologist.  Now that they have been submitted, the Synod's psychologist is out of town for a few weeks.  That said, unlike prior evaluations, I'm surprisingly calm regarding this one.

Part of that is in the living.  The purpose of this latest evaluation is to determine if I've stabilized enough to resume pastoral ministry.  And as the evaluation is unfolding, I am already serving a congregation as a supply pastor, and anticipate that this role will become an interim pastor.  If I'm successfully engaged in pastoral ministry, then that becomes a rather significant piece of the evaluation, doesn't it?  "Can he do it?  Well, he is doing it."

And so why write a blog post?  What's to report?

It is possible, with appropriate medication and therapeutic  support, for the mentally ill to stabilize and live a normal, functional, and yes, tranquil life.

I think that needs to be said.

It needs to be said in order to provide hope for people like me, during those times when it seems like the cycling and suffering will never stop.

It needs to be said so that some of the stigma related to mental illness may be alleviated.

Meanwhile, I will lead worship and preach in a few hours.  Monday morning I will go to my job in Hayden.  I will come home after the 10 hour shift, tired, but not depressed.  I will take a quick nap.  Have dinner.  Relax,  And go to bed.  Then do it all over again.

In the midst of all this, there are those opportunities to enjoy our grandchild, (and children).

All very normal things.

Rather good for a change.

"Pastor Dave"

Its not my first rodeo, but perhaps one of my most significant.

In a few hours I will greet the congregation at Peace Lutheran in Otis Orchards and begin a relationship that could last a few weeks, months, perhaps even longer.

And I will have the privilege of introducing myself once again as "Pastor Dave".

To a certain extent, leading worship again will be like riding a bicycle.  No matter how much time has past, the mechanics of it all will be second nature, and I will feel at home,  once again.  

But this matter of "Pastor Dave".  During the last few years I have had to make some adjustments.  I have been somewhat uncomfortable being referred to as pastor in the congregation  we've been attending in Newport.  I  may still be on the clergy roster, but I was not called to be their pastor.  I've served as treasurer and signed my name to reports as simply "Dave Olson".  There was a concerted effort to recreate my identity apart from the office of pastor.

And yet I also have found myself clinging to that identity as well.  My email address is pastordavidolson@gmail.com.  I turned to blogging because I needed to keep writing about that which matters.  It was a pulpit that was available to me.  "Pastor Dave" lived on in the wee hours of the morning at this keyboard.

What will be different today is that when people address me as "Pastor Dave", it will carry with it the connotation once again that its not just about my personal identity, but it will speak to a relationship with a congregation.  That is significant.

All this being said, I'm a different person today, than I was on January 27th, 2013.  (My last Sunday at First Lutheran.)

Today, I think I know better the meaning of "'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.'  So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

There is a part of me that feels vulnerable because of all I've publicly shared about my journey with being bipolar on this site and elsewhere as well.  I find myself wondering if those from Otis Orchards have explored my Facebook page, and learned of all my struggles.  And if so, what is their judgment?  

That being said, I think it fair to say that for any congregation to fully embrace me as their pastor, they will need to know me as a person as well.  To withhold a significant part of who I am from them, is to hold them at a distance.  

But there is a witness in all of this as well.  God's grace will be sufficient.  Our own weaknesses actually serve the purpose of helping us to more fully depend, not on our own abilities, but on the power of God.  I am reminded of John the Baptist's words:  "I am not the Messiah."  Just a voice crying out in the wilderness.

And in my weakness, bearing witness to the one who has all power.

"Pastor Dave" they will call me.  

And with the words "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all" the service will begin.

"Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."

And in the midst of these well worn words, I will find my voice once again, which is actually not my voice at all.  

That's my prayer, this morning.
Amen

Vision & Grandiosity

A healthy balance.  That's what we are after.  Not too high, not too low, just be content to be in the middle.  Breathe deeply.  Watch for the extremes.   Ah, life.

Sunday I will be supply preaching at a congregation and will continue with them through the month of July.  This gig could also develop into an interim ministry.  It marks the possibility of a real turning point in my life, the return to active ministry of Word and Sacrament.  It is exciting.

There remain lots of questions.  My medical team has spent considerable effort over the last three and a half years justifying my being on disability and with that giving me the opportunity to have a financial safety net and the space and time to focus on healing and health.  Portico Benefits has now repeatedly rendered their opinion that I no longer qualify for those benefits, that I'm healthy enough to return to work.  

This puts my medical team in an interesting situation.  Do they follow Portico's lead and change their position?  "Permanently disabled" was a term once used.  Its true to one extent.  Bipolar disorder is a permanent condition.  But the whole point of being under the care and treatment plan of a psychiatrist and psychologist is to stabilize that condition and get to the point where one is able to function fully.  I look at it from the standpoint of relative health.  I'm in a much better place than I was 3 years ago, even 1 year ago.  It seems to be working.

And so I'm excited about the opportunity to resume pastoral ministry in a more substantial way.

And then my mind starts racing with the visions of what that might look like.

Here's where it gets tricky.  God has given me the ability to always see potential and possibility.  I'm never content to simply maintain things the way they are.  Even prior to any significant interaction with the congregation in question, I start envisioning possibilities.  I think that can be a good thing, to a certain extent, especially if it is subject to a reality check as I get to know the congregation.  But to be excited about the future is a good thing.

The caution flag though, is to not allow my excitement to morph into grandiosity and a manic episode.  Breathe deeply.  Take medication.  Be realistic.  Take one day at a time.  Do the next right thing.  The Kingdom of God may be at hand, but don't try to single handedly bring it about.  

Preach the word.  Teach. Care for the congregation.  Lead as you are called to lead.  Follow as the time is right to follow.  Be content with what are in fact realistic expectations and small steps forward.  Not the time to envision a mega-church.  How about focusing on something like a decent web site.  

I don't know what the future holds.

What I do know is that Sunday, I will be called Pastor Dave once again.

And that feels good.

Snapshots of a moving target

Being evaluated.  This is one of the least enjoyable aspects of being bipolar.

The latest update on my disability claim is that Portico Benefits continues to maintain that I am not disabled, and nothing is preventing me from working.  That said, I'm willing to accept that judgment if in fact nothing is preventing my from working.

To that I'm going through a second round of evaluations, this by the psychologist that does assessments for the Synod's candidacy committee.  A positive outcome of this evaluation would clear me to resume ministry in at least some capacity.  My hopes are that both evaluations reach the same conclusion.  What I don't want is for Portico to say there is nothing preventing me from work, so I don't qualify for benefits, while the church says that being bipolar is a significant enough impediment to being able to perform pastoral responsibilities that they cannot recommend me for call.  

One of the things that is difficult is determining the parameters of information that is relevant to an evaluation today.  The disability people have always been very limited in what they would accept -- "How is he doing today, or for the last month?"  They do not want a history.  They are not interested in how I was six months ago.  They only want to consider current status.

While trying to qualify for disability benefits this was a challenge.  Bipolar people cycle through moods, and it might be months (even years) between the peaks and valleys.  "Today's mood" is not the whole picture.  

Now that I'm being evaluated for returning to ministry, my doctors have a similar question to answer.  Do they render an opinion based on today, or on the whole history of my involvement with them?  Today I may be able to handle ministry, even challenging ministry, just fine.  But in that cycling is part of being bipolar, there is no guarantee that I won't cycle back into either a depressed mood or a manic episode.  

My hopes are that the medications that I am on have provided sufficient stability as to minimize that risk.  But the only way to really know is to be thrown back into the thick of it, into stressful situations that are known to be triggers for me, and to see how I react.  

But even that is a little misleading because I'm a polished professional at internalizing feelings, and not letting them get to me, that is, not letting you know they are getting to me, all the while they are eating me up inside.

I want to resume ministry.  It is what I feel called to do.

The best that I can offer by way of assurance to the Church is this:

1. I will continue therapy and accept the assistance of my medical team to monitor my moods, and their help to stabilize those moods should they swing out of the normal spectrum;
2. I will remain on medication to further help stabilize the moods;
3. I will be attentive to my own 'red flags' that are indicators that I'm experiencing depression or mania and seek immediate help if I am;
4. And finally, though I hope this isn't the outcome, if I can't do it, I will graciously accept that.  

Here is where my personal faith and piety also enters in.  I honestly believe that I can serve, even with this "thorn in my flesh" because God's power is "made perfect in weakness".  To put it differently, I believe that those whom God calls to ministry, God also equips for ministry.  

That's what gives me the courage to proceed at this time.  Knowing that God's grace will be sufficient.

Do not torment me.

(I am sharing this post from my other blog because of its relevance. You can find that blog at wanderingsthroughtheword.com)

Name the names if you must, just do not torment me with but another promise of a cure if all you can offer is a diagnosis.  

The hardest thing is the recognition and acceptance of diseases, chronic in nature, and which allow only a promise that you can learn to live with them, manage them, but never cure them.

I am drawn to these texts about demonic possession in the bible in a different way since being diagnosed with a variety of mental health disorders.  I'm one who believes that in Jesus' day, such disorders were personified as 'demons'.  Our world view has changed.  We are less likely to personify such things.  Diseases not demons.  But by whatever name you call them, or how you personify them, the simple truth is this:  that they can take over our life in ways that our very identity with which we have lived is replaced by another whom we do not know.

Dysthymic disorder; major depression, unresponsive; suicidal  ideation; chemical dependency; chronic insomnia; post traumatic stress disorder; general anxiety disorder; bipolar disorder;-- and the list of names could go on: first tier, second tier, third tier, etc. .  Each one of those manifesting symptoms, such as manic episodes, defining the days of our lives and shaping our behaviors in ways that do not seem to be true to who we actually are, or at least who we thought we were.  Personal identity is the ultimate casualty of such suffering.  This is who I am.  Live with it.

And then comes the one who calls out the demons, naming them by name.  

And into the swine those demons go.  Ever wonder what a bipolar pig is like?

There is something missing in this text, implied but missing.  We know this man only as the Gerasene demoniac.  What is your name?  And the man said "Legion", for many were the demons that had possessed him.  What I wish were there is Jesus speaking the man's true name, and in doing so, calling forth his true identity.  

"David!"

And might we add to that "David, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ, forever."

Of all the things that could be said in response to mental illness, perhaps this is the most important.  The "you" is sealed by the Holy Spirit, sealed off from the threat of all those other spirits that would seize our identity.  Sealed by the Holy Spirit, marked with the cross of Christ, our identity forever rooted in him.  

Interesting that the swine rushed down the hill, plunged into the lake, and were drowned.  I never heard a baptismal sermon preached on this text.  But there it is.  And out of the water comes a man, in his right mind, or shall I say, "righteous".  

It is dangerous for one who is mentally ill to declare oneself healed.  Many a bipolar person has experience disastrous consequences because they became convinced they were healed and ceased their medication.  The truth is that some of these diseases are chronic, they will not just go away.  But, they need not define our identity or claim our souls.

I am not my disease.  That is not my name.  I don't know who "Legion" is, but it is not me.

"David, child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ, forever."

That is healing enough for me.

Courage

Courage is not the lack of fear, but the ability to act in the face of it.

"Do you realize how many fighter pilots shit in their pants while in the midst of a dog fight?"  I don't know if this comment was meant to be taken figuratively, or literally, but I've remembered it.  The point was very clear, though.  Its not that  there isn't a lot to be afraid of, or that fighter pilots are so brave as to never experience fear.  The point is that they have the courage to do their job in spite of their fears.

Living with bipolar disorder means living with the fear that another depressed or manic episode is right around the corner.  Its hard not to evaluate every option that life presents from the standpoint of whether or not that choice would produce a depressed or manic episode, and what the consequences would be if I experienced an episode.  Fear.

As I've written about before, I have three major possibilities looming in the future.  First, the appeals process for my disability claim goes on at a snail's pace.  At some point, there will be a determination of whether I qualify for continued benefits, or not.  If I qualify, there would be a financial safety net in place, and a restoration of my health benefits, the most important of which would be that I'd get mental health coverage again.  The negative side to this is that winning the appeal would also be an admission of my own inabilities.  A positive judgment regarding the appeal, is a negative assessment of my health status.  Yup, still crazy.

The second major issue is that I've begun the process of seeking re-reinstatement to the roles of active ordained ministers.  Related to the first issue, I am voluntarily submitting to an independent psychological evaluation to determine if this is possible and advisable.  If the outcome of this is positive it would render the whole appeal of the denial of disability benefits moot.  If negative, it would add evidence to the appeals process.  However, the primary motivation is that I do feel called to return in some capacity to ordained ministry and a positive assessment by the Synod's psychiatrist would make that possible.

And finally, a client of mine believes that he has a realistic possibility of selling fifteen or so of my dining sets to clients in Vietnam.  That would be nearly a half million dollar commission for me, a real once in a lifetime opportunity for a woodworker.  Of course, expanding my business to accommodate such an order comes with all sorts of risks.

Fear.  Each of this possibilities brings with it plenty of fear.

I experienced the deepest depression of my life while on disability.  To a certain extent that was why I was on disability, but there is also the fact that being considered disabled, and unable to work, is a very depressing place to find one's self.  Were it to be determined that I remain disabled, will the  depression return?  I don't anticipate elation as being my response to such a determination.

Secondly, what would the impact of returning to ministry be?  My biggest fear all along has been that I would either not be able  to function because the depression returned, or that I might experience a manic episode which could result in all sorts of undesirable behaviors.  Fear.

And thirdly, a half million dollar commission sounds, well, like a golden opportunity.  Unless of course, one considers that high risk and ill advised business decisions are a major symptom of mania. Add to that the fact that it would involve some major investments in equipment, taking on some employees, and leasing shop space-- all of which could fall under the category of reckless spending sprees (another symptom of mania) and there is much to fear.

The thing I realize is that there is no risk free option.  Though I have the hope that my medications and treatment for the bipolar disorder has resulted in a significant stabilization of my moods, one can never know for sure until the "stress test" has been applied.  I won't know how I will respond to any of these possibilities until I attempt them.

A major part of my personal piety is the belief that God only provides opportunities for us that we are capable of handling.  Were I to be called back into the ordained ministry of the Church, I believe that God would give me the opportunity to succeed.  Likewise with the business opportunity.  And if I return to disabled status and have the disability benefits restored, then there is a part of me that would simply believe that this is a gift from God, a response to a very real need in my life.

But to see in each of those options the hand of God at work, and to pursue the opportunities that actually present themselves, requires courage.  The risks are real.  The fear is real.

But sometimes that is simply the way life is.

For my part, the thing I have resolved to do, more than anything else, is to consult with trusted friends and advisers.   I have promised my doctors that I will continue in  therapy so that they can help monitor my moods.

And in the end, I hope to muster up the courage to do what is right.  Surrendering to fear is not an option I would choose.

My "Burning Bush"

We have a Japanese Maple outside of our front door, right in front of where I sit on the porch.  I love that tree.  It's beautiful, well shaped, and has been thriving since we planted it.

I have often sat there on the porch, next to the tree, and thought about what God had in store for my life.  And I've often longed for a burning bush experience.  It would be easier to follow Jesus is he'd share more openly where we are going.  Sometimes I imagine that maple as my burning bush.  Its vibrant red leaves help.

This last winter I was deeply disappointed to discover that either the snow, or a moose, had caused a major split in the fork of one of the main branches.  Losing those two branches would have destroyed the shape of the tree, and eliminated about 1/3 of the foliage.  Desperate times require desperate measures.

Armed with my power screw driver, and a two and a half in screw, I decided to play the role of tree doctor.  Without the consent of my wife, who probably would not have agreed to my methods, I 'fixed' the tree.  The branches were bent up to their original position and the split was held together by the screw.  And then there was nothing to do but to sit back and wait for spring, to see what would come of my beloved tree.

The wound has apparently healed.  There were no dead branches.  The foliage is more beautiful than ever.  And perhaps, in that, my burning bush had a message for me.

Whether it is wishful thinking on my part, or the conclusion of thoughtful and thorough discernment, more and more I've come to the conviction that it is time to move forward with my life. I'm exploring the possibility of serving as a pastor again.  There are business opportunities as well that may come to fruition.  Still waiting for my "tree" to spell that out for me.  A little hint like "Pastor Dave" or "OlsonsWoodWorks" would help.  Or perhaps both.

What I am inspired by my tree to believe, is that beauty is possible even when a major injury, a wound, has occurred.  Healing happens.  It may take a well placed screw to hold everything together, but healing can and does happen.

What do I hope for?  Perhaps more than anything else, I hope to rediscover a meaning and purpose to my life.  Like the tree which remained dormant for a few months after my repairing it, I have spent time where my primary focus has been on my own healing.  Now, it is as though the buds are on the branches, and springtime is here, and the only question remaining is to what extent the healing has been completed.  Will the leaves unfold?  Or will there be entire branches that need to be cut off?

What do I hope for?  If I could chart my own course, I think it would look like this:  That I could combine my love for ministry with my passion for woodworking and do both.  Perhaps a part-time call combined with continued work in my shop.  A tent maker ministry.

That seems best to me.  But my 'burning bush' has not yet spoken to that.  What I do believe is that when the time is right, the opportunities will present themselves.  And I will sit on my front porch, in front of that burning bush, perhaps even removing my shoes, and celebrate.

Bipolar or Not, that is the question.

There are two strains of thought in the mental health profession.  As with many other conditions as well, some doctors are quick to diagnose bipolar, some are hesitant.  My psychologist is one who is hesitant to make that diagnosis.  Or to put it differently, he has to personally witness a significant manic or hypo-manic state to confirm the diagnosis.  He has no problem with the depression side of my diagnosis, as he has seen that a plenty.  One of the reasons he has not seen the manic side of my personality is that the last time I was in one, I backed away from counseling because I was doing so 'well'.  That was the time I resigned my call, established my business, cashed in a significant portion of my pensions, bought a CNC router, enlisted my son to join me in the business, and in doing so exhibited by my own count, 5 of the 7 defining symptoms of a manic phase of bipolar disorder.

Both my current, and previous psychiatrist fall into the camp of being willing to make the bipolar diagnosis more freely.  One of the signs that they use is the degree to which depression responds to anti-depressants.  Turns out that normal depressions most often respond well to anti-depressant therapy, while bipolar depressions do not.  Bipolar depression, on the other hand, responds to mood stabilizers, not anti-depressants.

The psychologist that is reviewing my case for disability falls into the camp of being very hesitant to offer the bipolar diagnosis.  That may affect the outcome of my appeal, only time will tell.

I have a backwards attitude toward the diagnosis.  Rather than confirming the diagnosis, and then prescribing treatment, we tried a different approach.  Treating the depression 'as depression' wasn't working, and so I asked my doctor if my recurring bouts with depression could actually be bipolar.  She agreed that was possible.  I was currently taking Lamictal to control the seizures I was having.  It is an anti-seizure medication that is also a mood stabilizer used to treat bipolar disorder.  What was decided was to increase the dosage to a therapeutic level for bipolar disorder and see what happened.  Turns out that was the one thing that improved my situation.  In essence, we prescribed the treatment, and then, based on its success determined that the diagnosis was correct.

In contrast to some of the opinions to the contrary, I am personally convinced of the correctness of my diagnosis.  One of my reasons for being even more convinced than any of my medical team is that I am deeply aware of my inner thought patterns.  These go way beyond what is actually manifested in specific behaviors.

So, for example, when I set out to develop Luther Park and the Beacon at Southridge, there were the actual behaviors, and also the underlying scheme and grandiose thinking that went far beyond.  I was successful in the first case, Luther Park is an 87 unit senior housing ministry that is doing fine.  I failed to pull off developing the Beacon (a 225 unit senior housing community) in part because of the economy, but also in part because it proved to be beyond the scope of what was possible.  What was lost in the process was that in my vision, these two projects were just the first two steps of a major plan that would totally transform the church, not only in this country, but also with an international impact as well.  The vision that I had was so ambitious, that I didn't share it with others.  It would be better, to reveal it one step at a time.  No one would buy in, if they saw the whole deal. . .

The bottom line is that left untreated my  mood swings are way beyond the norm, and have been getting progressively worse.  With treatment, they have  moderated and would be, by most observers, be seen as within the parameters of what is normal.

One of my great-uncle's favorite jokes was about a man who was out in his yard spreading salt on his lawn.  His neighbor sees what he is doing, and asks him why in the world he would do that as it will kill the lawn.  "To keep the elephants away."  was the response.  "There aren't any elephants here!" his neighbor replied.  And the man said simply --  "It figures."

I'm being treated with Lamictal to keep the bipolar symptoms away.  "But you don't have any symptoms of mania!"  "It figures."

A Crossroad

"What other people think about you is none of your business."

AA is full of pearls of wisdom.  This is one of them.  Except I don't always agree.  What other people think about you, about me, can have a significant impact on the direction of one's life.  Opportunities are sometimes contingent on other's opinions of one's capabilities and character.  There is no getting around that.

I'm at a crossroad in my life.  I'm faced with three choices that will determine the direction of my life.  But each of those three choices will only be an option based on the assessment of other people.  I am not in charge of my own destiny.

"Lets consider three options: First, that you win the appeal for disability benefits and qualify for continuation of coverage;  second, that its determined that you can return to pastoral ministry and have that opportunity;  and third, that this business opportunity (selling 15 dining sets to clients in Vietnam, as written about in my last blog) comes through.  Which would you choose?"  (My psychologist asked me this, yesterday.)

Its not an easy choice.  If I win the appeal for disability benefits, it will be because it is determined that I am simply not capable of continuing to do what at one point was second nature to me.  "I...just....can't.....do.......it...........anymore." are words that are hard to say.  I reflect on those days when I couldn't even find the motivation to shower, when depression would chain me to the couch, or when mania would drive me forward on numerous different schemes and plans.  My psychologist had me read the letter that documented his conversation with the doctor hired by the disability plan to evaluate my claim.  "Disheveled", really?  The overall assessment was convincing to me, and a bit depressing.  But a bit of the fighter in me came out.  "I can do anything I set me mind too, I'm in a much better place than I was, you're not giving me enough credit, I have 'no cognitive nor physical impairment'.  "I disagree." was his response, particularly with respect to how depression affects my cognitive functioning.  Ouch!

And then we talked about the business opportunity.  15 dining sets, at a price of $55,000 per set.  $825,000 gross.  But major challenges such as expanding my business to include numerous employees, getting the financial backing, figuring out how to safely ship hardwood furniture from the relatively dry inland Northwest, to the high humidity of Vietnam without the whole works self destructing because of the humidity change.  Etc., Etc,.  "I'm very concerned that accepting this job would result in a manic episode."  "Actually, I'd be more capable of pulling it off if I was in a manic state!"  Interesting conversation.

I shared with him the possibility of serving as an interim pastor in a small congregation.  He was much more comfortable with that, than my embarking on a bold new business adventure.  His biggest concern about my re-entering parish ministry has to do with potentially high stress situations.  Caring for a relatively small congregation, without the possibility of taking on challenges like building senior housing, etc., he thought was "safe", and far preferable to the risk of falling into an 'ill advised business endeavor'.  Especially if I continue in treatment and am monitored with respect to my moods.

Sometimes we control our own destiny.  Most of the time we do not.

The appeal of the disability claim will be settled by someone else.  Perhaps even the judicial system.

Whether I can move forward with the business opportunity depends on numerous decisions by other people, not the least of which are the clients, but also others like bankers, landlords, employees, . . . not to mention my wife and family.  Huge risks involved.

My bishop, an independent psychologist's evaluation, and a congregation's call.  Decisions will have to be made with respect to my returning to parish ministry, and most of them will be made by others.

And then there is the opportunity that none of these materialize.   That somewhere there is a fourth option.  Or maybe, my current status IS the fourth option.

The single greatest casualty of this disease is my own ability to discern and decide.  While I may or may not be disabled, I have certainly become more dependent on others.  Ironically, the recognition of these limitations and being willing to defer to the judgement of others may in fact be the single most significant indication that some degree of health and well being has returned.

Vietnam

I build things.  I love to get the creative juices flowing.  And when everything is said and done, I feel a great sense of satisfaction.

Last year I created this table and chairs for a client in Southern California.  I'm very proud of it, and the client was very pleased with it.  My client has many business contacts in Vietnam and recently returned from a two month visit.  He had the opportunity while there to do some sales pitches for my work.  He identified 15 potential customers who were interested in buying a dining set like this, for a cool $55,000 a set.  Run the math on that and no matter how you add it up it amounts to a whole lot of money (and work).  And there are a lot of logistics to work out.  Its not a done deal by any means.

Mania alert.  Mania alert.  Mania alert.

Actually, I would be much more capable of embracing this challenge if I was in a manic phase.  But then, there are those defined symptoms of this disease, a few of which are:

•          Tendency to show poor judgment, such as impulsively deciding to quit a job
• ·      Inflated self-esteem or grandiosity -- unrealistic beliefs in one's ability, intelligence, and powers; may be delusional
• ·      Reckless behaviors (such as lavish spending sprees, impulsive sexual indiscretions, abuse of alcohol or drugs, or ill-advised business decisions).

  So, lets see, having the bold confidence to quit my current job, greatly expand my business, and pursue this business opportunity, believing in my own abilities to carry it off, may be a good response to a golden opportunity that came knocking at the door.  Or, it may be a manifestation of a manic episode.  I only wish that such opportunities came with a set of flashing lights:  green for GO!  red for STOP!  and yellow for proceed with caution.

Add to this mix the fact that, as I've recently written, I am considering returning to parish ministry in some form or another.  

"Dear God,

If its not too much to ask, a burning bush experience would help at this point in time.

Thanks,

Dave"

Some thoughts:

1.     I have not thrown caution to the wind in this situation.  I realize that any decision relative to such a huge business endeavor must involve some very serious safeguards to be in place.

2.     Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  Whether I consider an opportunity to re-engage in parish ministry, or to pursue this business endeavor, there will by necessity be some risks involved.  And those risks would be there even if I was absolutely normal.  

3.     It is reasonable that someone with my talents should pursue those opportunities where my gifts are utilized.  To do so is not a symptom of a manic episode.

4.     The one thing that I do lack, because of this disease, is the confidence in my own judgement.  

5.     I am still seeking to resolve my disability claim.  A huge question is whether being bipolar continues to adversely impact my ability to work.  Both of these opportunities may be a baptism by fire that test that question.  

To be faced with such decisions is one of the things that is most difficult to handle because of this disease.  There is a risk of poor judgement.  "$55,000" may inflate my self-esteem and grandiosity.  And pursuing a business endeavor of this magnitude may be ill-advised.  

Of course, it may also be that all of my hard work and creativity is finally paying off, and I should simply do the logical thing and capitalize on the opportunity.

One thing I'm thankful for is that 4 years ago I would have made this decision with a Scotch double or two or three in hand.  Whatever the decision will be, at least it will be sober.

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.

Reclaiming One's Life

Had a brief conversation last night with  my wife about vocation and the lingering, persistent, even nagging sense of call I continue to experience.  For all that has  transpired throughout the last 3 1/2 years, it simply remains the case that I am happiest when I am preaching, teaching, and writing about matters of faith.  You can take the pastor out of the congregation, but you can't take the preacher out of the pastor.  I feel a need again to explore options with my bishop.  Its a complex issue.

Do I let the diagnosis of bipolar disorder have the final word on my service as an ordained pastor, and will I conclude my ministry under the "disabled" status?  Numerous thoughts come racing through my head in this regard.

The 80/20 rule of thumb.
80/20 is somewhat arbitrary here, but suffice it to say that for me, as with most bipolar people, I believe, the bulk of life is not lived at the extremes.  Even untreated, perhaps 80% of the time my moods remain within the spectrum of "normal".  (This is a simplification, but bear with me.)  Everybody experiences 'ups and downs' in life,  This is, of course, the case for one who is bipolar, except that the highs are higher, the lows lower.  But most of the time, life is lived somewhere in the middle.  I find myself wondering at what point these extremes are disabling, and at what point they are not.

One of the issues is that it is hard to make a case that I am disabled to the insurance carrier that manages the church's disability plan because they look at the 80%, and say, "nothing is wrong".  On the other hand, when I consider returning to ministry I have to anticipate how a congregation would feel about a pastor whose moods are out of the ordinary 20% of the  time.  "Yes, he's depressed right now, but give him a week. . ."  My skeptical side says that it is a rare congregation that would show that type of accommodation.

But what of the effect of medication?  If the result of medication is that one's mood remains within the normal spectrum a greater percentage of time, then when is it sufficiently stabilized to allow a person to continue with life unimpeded by this disease?  What if the 80/20 is actually 95/5 when on medication?  Is that sufficient?

And what is the impact of knowledge?  Does the fact that I now know that I'm bipolar, and experience manic and depressed moods, make a difference?  I am less likely to act on manic impulses knowing them for what they are.  I am less prone to be overwhelmed by depression, knowing that I will cycle out of it in time.

And what is the impact of being cared for by a medical team and knowledgeable family and friends?  Having others aware of my condition who are in a position to help me recognize what's going on and to moderate behavior even when moods swing beyond the norm, helps.

Having said all that, there is the other possibility that returning to ministry might result in numerous 'triggers' being reactivated that would result in my 80/20 becoming a 60/40 or worse.  That is possible, too.

What I am most uncomfortable with in this whole process is falling between the cracks.  It is very possible that our disability plan will look at the "80%" and determine that I don't qualify for disability.  But at the same time, the 'Church' may look at the 20% and determine that it is not advisable for me to resume any pastoral ministry.  Too normal for disability benefits, too abnormal for consideration for call.

What I long for is clarity regarding this matter of the Call.  If my condition truly prohibits me from returning to the vocation of ministry, then I wish God would remove from me this persistent wrestling with feeling called to ministry.  But if that Call is genuine, then I wish God would open the doors to make it possible.  What makes life difficult at the moment is the overwhelming feeling of this matter being unsettled, and the restlessness that results from that.

What I pray for is twofold:  A clear sense of vocation, of what God is calling me to do with my life; and then, secondly, for the doors to open that will make that possible.

Some odds and ends regarding disability. . .

"'While we were impressed with your background and experience, we concluded that other candidate's profiles more closely matched our requirements."


And with that, my budding career as an aircraft assembler came to an end before it got started. Having been turned down for the position I'm left wondering what part of my profile did not match their requirements. Let's see:

• All my experience as a builder is with wood, they work in metal. 
• I'm over educated for the position. 
• My prior salary is far more than what the position offered. 
• I have been in my current position only 5 months. 
• I voluntarily disclosed that I am bipolar. 
• I am 59 years old. 

Let's see, given all this I can imagine numerous things about my profile that might not match their requirements. And of course, they would not want to disclose the particulars. And so I'm simply left with life as it is, not as I had hoped it would be. I'm also left with an awareness that external matters, such as applying for and being turned down for a job, can have an enormous impact on my mood. Whether or not this job would have been an improvement over what I am currently doing, the mere thought of it greatly elevated my mood, and being turned down sent me into a depressed state. Up and down. Just like that. On this day I don't know if those mood swings were significantly out of the ordinary. I certainly wasn't off the charts. But it was enough to remind me that mood stability is not part of my personal profile. . .

On disability benefits: I chose to disclose that I am bipolar to this potential new employer because they are an Affirmative Action employer, had requested such voluntary disclosure, AND, on the form for disclosure Bipolar Disorder was specifically identified as an example of such a disability. Just saying that I find it interesting that had I been hired for the position I applied for, my being hired as a person with Bipolar Disorder would have fulfilled the requirements of the Affirmative Action laws regarding being a 'government contractor' and hiring the disabled. Contrary to that is the position that Liberty Mutual has taken regarding my disability claim, that being Bipolar does not constitute a disability that would prevent me from resuming pastoral ministry or any other vocation.

My psychologist shared with me that he had received notice that another "peer review" was underway regarding my appeal for disability benefits. I have come to loathe Liberty Mutual and resent their involvement in my case, though I have no choice about that matter. Something about a company rendering judgments regarding my health without ever even interviewing me. We will see what happens. My brother is handling the appeal, and because of my emotional instability, I am quite content to stay as far removed from it as I can.

Meanwhile, because I have come to "loathe" Liberty Mutual, I have terminated my homeowners, car, and business policies with them. I take particular delight in receiving the checks refunding my premiums. And I entertain myself with the thought that in the end, the business they have lost from me will exceed the amount that they have been paid to manage my disability claim. I hope so, anyway.

The most troubling part of this whole matter of disability is that there may well be inconsistent judgments. It may be determined that I am not disabled enough to receive disability benefits, but too disabled to be considered for pastoral ministry. Unfortunately, this may be the reality, allowed for under the terms of the policy.

Peace, like a River

"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul."

I'm thinking of this song, because a dear friend expressed again the concern that I will be at peace.  Those who know me best, know that in this area I can indeed profit from their prayers.  Peace has been illusive for me over my lifetime.

A restless sojourner on a quest.

That would be an apt description of who I have been, and who I am.  So much so that to contemplate that "peace" might replace this quest is quite uncomfortable.  When I hear the words 'may you find peace' there is a part of me that simply cannot understand them as anything other than becoming content with the status quo, both in my personal life and the life of the world around me.  Uh, need I say, that the status quo is not always what its cracked up to be.

There is a part of me that is an eternal optimist.  I realize that as one who periodically suffers from deep depression, this is a bit of a bizarre statement.  Yet it is true.  A core belief of mine is that God is continually at work, creating a future that is better than the past, and that we as his children are called to participate in this work.  This belief fuels the restlessness.  It's part of the journey.  Its realization is the quest.

It is also very typical of my mental state while in a manic phase.  I experience a very benevolent mania, most typified by wanting to make the world a better place.  "A better future starts with me" is a phrase that I embrace when in my manic state.  It is compelling.  A driving force that gives meaning and purpose to life.

Mood stabilizers have reined in that type of thinking.  My goals have  become much more modest.  Some would say "realistic".  I am not driven as much.  The restless sojourner on a quest has been replaced by one that is more content with sufficiency.  It is enough.  Is this "peace"?

There is a part of me that recoils against such a thought.  If such is peace, then I cannot be at peace with peacefulness.  The restless sojourner on a quest does not die easily.

I am more comfortable with the statement "It is well, it is well, with my soul."  Whether I'm "at peace" or in "turmoil", it is well, it is well, with my soul.  This I am learning to embrace.  It's not always easy.

Part of this is coming to know and accept myself for who I am.

A more important part of this is to believe that God knows me even more than I know myself, and accepts me as I am, more than I could ever hope to.

"It is well, it is well, with my soul" is more of a statement about God, than it is about me.
                                                            

Post Script:  I've shared about my struggles with insomnia.  Last night I went to bed around 9, and first woke up at about 11.  Then 12.  Then I rose at 1.  I will try to return to sleep, shortly.  But part of the problem is that I enjoy the peace and tranquility of the quiet night.  "Hello darkness my old friend,  I've come to talk with you again. . ."  Its as though I have exchanged a "peaceful night's rest" for a "restless night's peace".  But it is well, it is well, with my soul.

Knowing only that your hand is leading us

Uncertainty has been a constant companion since October 14th, 2012.

Prior to that time everything was set.  My ministry in Sandpoint had been affirmed by our congregation council.  After 13 years, they made it clear that they wanted me to remain till I retired, and to that end offered me the opportunity to buy my own home in Sandpoint.  I had shared that my desire was to continue serving First Lutheran till I retired, and then, as Pastor Emeritus, serve in supportive role to the new pastor.  Clarity.  The best laid plans of mice and men.

It didn't work out that way.

The decision to allow me to buy my own house resulted in a backlash from a segment of the congregation.  They held a closed door meeting and formulated a letter with certain demands, and the threat to terminate my call.  Upon reading that letter, I sought solace in a bottle of Scotch coupled in the end with my mixing my dosage of Ativan with the Scotch in a cocktail that nearly killed me.  The next day, at the urging of my family, my friends, and my Bishop I entered the hospital, in my mind to treat my depression.  Upon entering the hospital I got wind of another agenda.  "You're headed to chemical dependency treatment."  And the hardest words I have ever heard:  "Dave, you are an alcoholic."

I was losing everything.

First, I had to relinquish 'control' of the congregation and go on a medical leave for treatment.  Then, after having tried to return to work, unsuccessfully, I had to go on long term disability.  Disability benefits were only 2/3 of my prior compensation, yet our mortgage remained at 100%.  Then, came resignation from my call.  For a time the severance package which paid out accumulated vacation time made up the difference, but then, that also came to an end.  More recently, my disability benefits were terminated and with that, our medical insurance.  The business I had started, also failed to produce any livable income.  At every crossroads along the way, at every twist and turn in the road, with each additional loss, I expected and feared the worst.  Top on the list of fears was that we would lose the house.

Thinking back on all of this is depressing.

Except for the miracle.  It is remarkable, really.  And yes, I consider it a miracle of God's grace.

After sustaining all of these losses, we are better off financially than we ever have been.

Many things have contributed to that, and yes, there has had to be some belt tightening along the way.  But the bottom line is that instead of losing everything, as feared, we are in better shape than we have ever been.  In addition, facing the realities of my alcoholism and being bipolar has left me, today, probably healthier than I have been in a long time.

Never have the words of Jeremiah seemed so true:  "For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope."  Every time a door closed, another one opened.

Certainty has been replaced by faith.  I don't know what tomorrow will bring.  None of us actually does.  But everyday I learn to trust a little more that God's hand is leading us, his love supporting us.  These are the words of the "Holden Prayer".  I am preaching in Coeur d'Alene this morning and will conclude my sermon with that prayer.  I share it with you as well.

"O God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown.   Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen."

Faith

"God is doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves."

This is one of the promises articulated in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.  It captures the essence of faith.  "Confidence" is the belief that we can do it.  "Faith" is the belief that God has and God will do it.  The invitation that we have received is to live by faith, not confidence.  Big difference.

In a few hours I will have another faith exercise.  I'm having surgery to repair a hernia.  To have surgery is to relinquish all control over one's life, and to place one's trust in the medical team to do what they do.  A hernia repair is minor, compared to the open heart surgery I had back in 2003.  But still there will be that moment when the anesthesiologist gives you a "little something to help you relax".  (That's my favorite quote from the time when I had open heart surgery.  What an understatement.  "Help you relax", hardly captures going out like a light.)  That moment when we watch the injection is a moment of faith.  Its relinquishing control.  Its trusting that others will do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.

I had my interview yesterday for a job here in Sandpoint.  As I wrote yesterday a major question was whether I should disclose that I have Bipolar Disorder.  I did.  The honesty was appreciated.  The rest of the interview went fine.  I felt good about it.  What will come of it, I don't know.  Now its simply out of my hands.  I have to trust that the decision they make will be the right decision, for them, as well as for me.  For me it goes beyond trusting the HR people to make the right decision.  For me it is also a matter of faith in God.  That God is doing for me what I cannot do for myself.

I don't like being out of control, but I'm getting better at accepting that as a reality of life.  I've even begun to let my wife drive more of the time.

One of the things I've learned as I adjusted to being bipolar is to recognize that I am not in control of the mood swings that I experience.  I don't fully understand what happens with the chemistry in my brain that cause these sometimes substantial swings.  I just know that they happen, not by choice, not by chance, but because of matters beyond my control.

Taking the medications as prescribed seems at times to be an effort to regain control.  But truth be told, that there are medications, that I've been prescribed medications, and that the medications have a certain effect are issues beyond my control.  Others are doing for me what I cannot do for myself.  Faith.

It seems to me that true "confession" is not the acknowledgement of our culpability as much as it is an acknowledgement of our vulnerability.  "I am in bondage to sin and cannot free myself."  Vulnerability.  God is doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves."  Faith.

Not knowing what the future holds, and knowing that much of what will be is beyond my control, I can only pray for faith.  I pray for faith, because to have faith, is yet another thing that we cannot do for ourselves, but is possible only because of what God has done for us.