Restoring Relationships

Create in me a pure heart, O God,

          and renew a steadfast spirit within me.  (Psalm 51:10, NIV)

          At a Bipolar Disorder Support Group meeting once, I heard a woman confess to having repeated affairs on manic binges throughout her 10-year marriage.  Once caught, she felt compelled to leave home, convinced after a particularly angry confrontation that her husband could never forgive her.

found at homeinfidelitytest.com

 

          It is possible she was right.  But I urged her to reconsider her decision to leave for good and at least work on their relationship.  While infidelity does wreak havoc on many marriages, it is within God’s power to purify our hearts stained with sin and renew our spirits so that love can be restored.

found at RSVP

          It doesn’t always happen, but what a blessing it is when God claims victory over the forces that divide us and unites us once again.  The statistics aren’t good for persons with Bipolar remaining married, but I have found that it has been a tremendous blessing to have this sacred bond in my life to promote healing and wholeness.

found at Quotes and Sayings

 

 

Divine Satisfaction

Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,

so that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

Make us glad as many days as you have afflicted us,

and as many years as we have seen evil. (Psalm 90:14-15, NRSV)

found at More.com

For some time, verse 14 has been my opening prayer each morning.  It’s a beautiful request of the LORD to start each day with persistent evidence of divine love.

As we move to verse 15, however, the request becomes bolder – almost an accusation.  The thought that God has afflicted us for innumerable days and that we have seen evil for years is a radical one.  You can almost hear a commanding tone in the Psalmist’s prayer – “Make us glad…“

found at ihousephilly.org

The more I think of this, the more I think I will add verse 15 to my morning prayers.  Certainly, I have not experienced the depth of affliction or seen the evil of many other faithful believers, but as I pray, I’m praying for (and with) others as well.  I believe I will pray this with my brothers and sisters out there who struggle to be set free from Bipolar Disorder.  Maybe one day in Paradise we can gather and reflect on the gladness the Lord has brought our way.

found at flickr.com

Being Humbled

          Before I was humbled I went astray, but now I keep your word.      (Psalm 119:67)

          It is good for me that I was humbled, so that I might learn your statutes.      (Psalm 119:71)

          I struggle with limits. Particularly when I am feeling a bit manic, I hate going to bed and keeping a regular sleep schedule.

 found at Law Student Code

           The week before my first hospitalization, I had barely slept at all. My mind was filled with ministry ideas (all of which seemed brilliant – to me). I would formulate the next day’s plan while laying in bed, then move on to solve the problems of the congregation one by one, laying out a year, 5 year, a 10 year ministry goals. It all came together amazingly. All the while things around me were falling apart.

found at rebelliousarabgirl.net

           It all came crashing down on a Sunday in early February. I had gone to church around 5 a.m. and noticed one of our signs was bent over. I became convinced someone (or something) was plotting to overturn our ministry, but that we would keep pressing on.

          All through the morning I was a ball of energy, flitting from one person to the next. I thought I was saying profound things left and right but now I realize I was just confusing them. In the sermon I was moved to tears over mundane sentences. The afternoon was a blur. That evening I led youth group and remember playing the R.E.M. song – “It’s the End of the World as We Know It” over and over again while bouncing off the walls. A light fixture fell and I was sure it was a sign the End was indeed near.

 

found at “The Decree of Freyja”

          Fortunately, I made it home that night and agreed to admit myself to a nearby psych hospital the next day. I had done some laughable things, but had yet to make a complete fool of myself or jeopardize my standing as a pastor. God helped me make it to the psych hospital before I had a complete breakdown.

found at “Longing for a Holiday By the Sea”

 

          The experience was certainly a humbling one and while I still stray from positive limits, I’ve learned to stay within certain bounds to stay more healthy and sane for the sake of the LORD.

The Past is Past

These things I remember as I pour out my soul;

how I used to go with the multitude,

leading the procession to the house of God,

with shouts of joy and thanksgiving among the festive throng.

(Psalm 42:4, NIV)

 

(found at lutheranworld.org)

 

          After nearly 20 years of weekly worship leadership, I went from being a praise-filled pastor to an exhausted exile. Thanks in large part to complications caused by my Bipolar, I became unable to perform my duties with consistency and went on full-time disability.

          One of the biggest struggles for me, particularly in the first few months of my “exile”, was a nagging sense of nostalgia. Nostalgia may feel good at first, but it can be a deadly demon – particularly for someone with Bipolar. Ruminating on the past takes us away from the present challenges and may give us the desire to find “short cuts” to get back there.

          Longing to experience the way things once were in “the good old days”, I could try to manufacture a manic episode with something as simple as an overdose of caffeine or sugar or something as serious as skipping my meds. I could pay too much heed to the voices in my head filling me with regret such that my sorrow deepens. I could spend so much time remembering the past that my days and nights become little more than re-creations that actually cut into the creative work God has yet planned for my life.

          It is good to remember and appreciate the past so long as we don’t try to re-create it in the present and wind up with no future.

I Hate to Complain, But…

I cried unto God with my voice,

even unto God with my voice, and he gave ear to me.

In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord;

my sore ran in the night, and ceased not;

my soul refused to be comforted.

I remembered God, and was troubled:

I complained, and my spirit was overwhelmed.

(Psalm 77:1-3, KJV)

          Complaining can be an exercise in futility or it can be a pathway to spiritual growth. It is no accident that many of the Psalmists and prophets complained to God about life in the world and their place in it.

          Moses complained about the Israelites. Jeremiah comlplained that he was not prepared for his calling. Jonah complained about his mission to Nineveh. Even Jesus complained to God – crying out on the cross – “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

          Complaints can be therapeutic if we use them in a cathartic way, to let loose our troubles. Otherwise, complaints have a way of being corrosive – of eating away at our spirit when we can least afford it. Complaints that are left to linger within us and are not transformed into prayer can ultimately overwhelm us and leave us more beaten down than when we first started complaining.

(found at Channel 4)

          As persons with Bipolar, we can certainly find much to complain about in our lives. I complain about a lot of things others do that I can’t do if I want to maintain balance. Drink a pot of coffee. Travel internationally. Stay up late and wake up early.

           Without prayer, these complaints will simply swirl around and create a spiraling mess into which I might sink and become trapped. With prayer, what can be an exercise in futility becomes a pathway to spiritual growth where I can give glory to God in all my weaknesses. Complaints for what is lacking can become praise for what God is doing, has done, and will keep doing for those who love the LORD.

(found at EZInspirations)

The Great Therapist

With my voice I cry out to the LORD;

     with my voice I make supplication to the LORD.

I pour out my complaint before him;

     I tell my trouble before him.     (Psalm 142:1-2)

 

          A therapist is a bit like God in that they both listen to complaints.  A good therapist, though, recognizes that his/her familiarity with God ends there and doesn’t try to play God by getting too enmeshed in our problems or trying to heal our condition for us.  A good therapist attempts to draw on the healing power that flows from God and sees that the source of this healing comes from beyond him or herself.

          I’ve had many therapists – some good and some not-so-good – in my nearly 25 year pursuit of good mental health.  One thing I’ve learned is that it takes a great deal of patience to be a good therapist – to listen to cries and supplication, complaints and trouble all day long, day in and day out.  A therapist who persistently yawns or watches the clock can give hurting people the impression that their hurts don’t matter.  A good therapist helps to lift the burden of pain a client carries simply by listening well.

 

          God is more than just a good therapist.  God is the Great Therapist.  Not only does the LORD listen to our complaints, the LORD always responds with love.

Preparing the Table

You prepare a table before me

     in the presence of my enemies.  (Psalm 23:5a)

 

    

 

     Throughout the course of my Bipolar illness, I’ve been fortunate to have a steady stream of income, a way to “bring home the bacon”.  More than this, I’ve been blessed with a steady wife who fries it up for me.  I’m not ashamed to admit that we have found the traditional gender roles to work well in our relationship.  In no way has this diminished my respect for her.  I know full well how poorly I would function without her.

 

 

     Too many persons with mental illnesses find themselves in positions where they don’t know where their next meal is coming from or with whom they might share it.  Even those with material resources struggle with chaos in their lives that works against their need for constant structure.  It helps me so much to know that breakfast is at 8, lunch at noon, and dinner at 5 (with little variation).

 

 

     One thing faith communities can provide to serve those with mental illnesses is a good meal.  And not just for the poor.  A church I once served offered a free Christmas dinner to the community and found that more “volunteers” showed up than “customers”.  These were mostly older and single adults looking for a way to battle the depression that often strikes on this holiday typically devoted to families.

 

 

     When we have a meal prepared for us by people who care about us, the enemies of depression and other forms of mental distress can be held at bay by a strong sense of fellowship we can’t help but share as we gather around God’s table of grace.

Sin and Sickness

Consider my affliction and my trouble,

     and forgive all my sins.  (Psalm 25:18)

      Over the years, I’ve given a lot of thought to the relationship between sin and sickness.  The Bible clearly connects the two, but it is not always clear what sort of connection exists. There are times when sickness is caused by what someone does or fails to do – as when the foolish Nabal’s inhospitable demeanor leads to a heart attack. 

     Other times, sickness is not caused by a person’s sin, such as when Job’s righteousness is tested. 

     Sin can be the result of a condition of sin (as in a genetic flaw) or a commission of sin (as in falling short of God’s commands).

     The relationship between sin and sickness can become particularly controversial when it comes to mental illness.  There has been such a stigma attached to it over the years it is little wonder many shy away from implications that the afflicted person may have done something wrong.  People have often viewed forms of mental illness as demon possession either invited in or allowed to remain in a person’s life through some lingering sin.

     I see my Bipolar illness the result of generational sin.  This does not pin the blame on me (or any particular ancestor), but recognizes what both the Bible and science have stated to be true.  Something is not right within me and it’s highly likely this has been passed down.

     Sin and sickness are somehow related.  Unless we see this in our lives, we may fail to take advantage of opportunities to experience healing.  Had the paralytic man argued with Jesus about his sin when Jesus pronounced forgiveness, he might not have been healed.  We need to be open to recognizing our part in either contributing to our illness or aggravating our symptoms.

     This is just as true for persons with Bipolar as for those with physical conditions such as diabetes.  We need to ask ourselves,

“Am I receiving the best treatment available?“

“Am I taking the prescribed meds?”

“Am I seeking spiritual sustenance?”

     If the answer to any of these is “No,” chances are we don’t really want to be healed. 

 

 

Good Boundaries

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

     I have a goodly heritage.   (Psalm 16:6, NRSV)

          One thing you’ll learn should you ever spend time in a psych hospital is that there are a lot of rules.  Rules about food.  Rules about noise.  Rules about visiting.  Rules about movies and television.  Rules about toiletries and other personal effects. 

          Since I am one who likes to have good, clear boundaries, these rules didn’t bother me so much.  There are other people, though, who are constantly trying to get around the rules.

          Like the man who found the staff person willing to bring him Starbucks coffee (at a price, no doubt) to replace what passed as coffee from the cafeteria.

          Like the woman who gained permission to use the exercise room during off hours as a space to listen to loud Hip Hop music on her boom box.

          Like the couple who found a way to prop a broom against the laundry room door so they could get around the “no-fraternization-with-the-opposite-sex” rule.

          One thing we ultimately have to learn as psych patients (and people as a whole) is that rules are generally good for us — especially those given by God.  They help establish clear, consistent boundaries within which was can live safely and safely let others live.  Only when we have good, firm boundaries can we survive (and even thrive) within this crazy, unpredictable world.

          Praise be to God who gives us such boundaries for life, as the Psalmist says – 

          “You have fixed all the bounds of the earth.”  (Psalm 74:19, NRSV)

An E.C.T. Morning

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope;

My soul waits for the Lord

          more than those who watch for the morning

          more than those who watch for the morning.   (Psalm 130:5-6, NRSV)

 

          It’s still dark outside.  I lie awake staring at the ceiling, wondering how much of my mind I’ll have left by the end of the day.  In just a short while I will be having my first dosage of Electro-Convulsive Therapy (E.C.T.) or “Shock Treatment”.  While I’ll be administered only a mild dose by highly trained professionals, the idea of subjecting my brain to a jolt of electrical current of any amount by anyone is a bit unnerving.

 

          So I lay in bed an wonder,

          ”Am I forcing God’s hand by seeking this still-controversial treatment?”

Or,

          “Am I submitting to the hands of gifted professionals who might help me recover to better serve the LORD?”

         

          As I lay in the darkness, no clear answer is found.  I am left to wonder, wait, and watch for what will happen next.

 

*******************************************************************

 

          Almost a year later and I’m still wondering if E.C.T. was right for my particular case.  Given the information we had at the time, I have to believe it was worth a shot.  My illness and the advanced medications I had been taking (and still take) sap the strength of my brain and E.C.T. could have put things in working order for a time.

          Yet, still I’m waiting.  Still watching.  Still hoping.  Hoping to serve God with my whole heart, body, and mind.  Or at least as much of my mind as I have left.

 

God in Our Midst

My grandfather – Joe Etsy – was a go-getter when he was young but he gradually built a reputation for being lazy and shiftless.  Though he fathered 8 children, he wasn’t much satisfied with domestic life.  He was always looking for something more.

For instance, he once left behind a good paying steady job, bouught an old school bus, painted in John Deere green and converted it into sort of an antique-mobile.

He would drive “down home” to Kentucky and load it up with cheaply purchased goods to sell for a tidy profit up North.  I once asked my Dad is Joe Etsy made any money on the deal and he said, “If he did, the family didn’t see any of it.”

The tragedy of Joe Etsy’s life is the same challenge I continue to face each day of my life.  Joe Etsy struggled to see God in ordinary, plain events.

Joe Etsy came to see himself as a miserable, unwanted outcast.  He lost hope and never regained it.  When he was in his 40s, he was hit and killed by a pick-up truck while walking in the middle of the road, in the middle of the night.

One thing I’ve found with Bipolar is that I struggle to be satisfied with the ordinary ebb and flow of life because I’ve felt so elated during my highs.  I constantly find myself striving to recreate a manic experience and nearly always fall flat on my face, often doing great damage to myself and others.

The promise in the life of Jesus Christ revealed throughout Scripture is that God’s kingdom is right here.  Right now.  We don’t need to reach God through a manic high.  God reaches out to us, picks us up, and puts us right where we need to be to experience abundant life – forever.

10 Things to Look for in a Psychiatrist

After having poked fun at the mental health profession (“10 Reasons to Leave Your Psychiatrist”), I thought it best to fess up as to how I’ve mostly benefitted from quality psychiatric care.  Maybe some of you aren’t so fortunate.  Maybe you’re still looking for someone who can meet your needs and could use a little encouragement along your way.  For what it’s worth, here’s my list of what to look for in a good psychiatrist.

1)  Someone who hears what you say and what you don’t say.

2)  Someone who gives good treatment options in plain language.

3)  Someone accessible before, during, and after appointments.

4)  Someone who keeps up on the latest meds and yet…

5)  Someone who is not overly anxious to prescribe them all.

6)  Someone who will talk with your key loved ones respectfully.

7)  Someone who can smile when you joke about your illness, yet…

8)  Someone who doesn’t laugh when you are being manic.

9)  Someone with a calm demeanor who can quickly ease anxiety.

10) Someone who is not a slave to any single treatment option.

Acedia & Me: One Final Word

          This is the fourth and final in a series of book reviews on Kathleen Norris’ new book Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer’s Life.  The other posts can be found here, here, and here.

           At various points within the book Norris pauses to survey the scene in which we find ourselves in modern life.  This includes the break-neck speed with which we accomplish very little -

Just look at us, with more money and less sleep than we know how to handle, except to go into debt, and take pills that get us up in the morning and others that let us rest at night.

 

          Norris tackles the self-absorbtion of the modern age, comparing it to the wisdom of much earlier followers of Christ – such as the desert fathers:

 

One great difference between these monks and today’s pop psychologists is that the monks’ process of discernment was likely to result in more self-knowledge, less self-consciousness.  In our day, this is often reversed.  People whose speech remains stuck in therapeutic jargon, for all the “work” they are doing on themselves, often remain stubbornly unreflective.

 

         The demon of acedia, Norris notes, puffs us up even as it casts us down.  We are left to resort to our last, best hope – which is the mercy of God in Jesus Christ.  This can be accessed through humility, as we accept who God has created us to be.  She doesn’t put it this way, but I would say a key part of this is accepting our “lot” in life and rejoicing that “the boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places.”

          Norris returns to the comparison of acedia and depression, admitting she has struggled with both and observing -

 

I find that depression generally has an identifiable and external cause that acedia lacks.  I can look at my life and see where the trouble is coming from.  But acedia arises out of nowhere, as it were, emerging from my inner depths without warning, and without any reason that I can determine.

 

          Norris notes she has “found that depression is amenable to treatment in ways that acedia is not.”

          It takes firm resolve and a strong faith that arises from some place beyond ourselves to do battle with the demon of acedia.  I’ll give the final word to Martin Luther, whom Norris quotes in a section called, “Despair and Possibility” -

 

You must be resolute, bid yourself defiance, and say to yourself wrathfully… ‘No matter how unwilling you are to live, you are going to live and like it!  This is what God wants… Begone, you thoughts of the devil!  To hell with dying and death!’ … Grit your teeth in the face of your thoughts, and for God’s sake be more obstinate, headstrong, and willful than the most stubborn peasant.

The Last Great Championship Game

          In truth, there have been many good, some perhaps even great NCAA Basketball Championship games since 1987.  None, however, surpass the sheer drama (particularly for an IU fan) of the game that featured “The Shot” – Keith Smart’s jumper from the corner, as the clock wound down with a stunned Syracuse team looking on.

         My personal history with the college game goes as far back as Bobby Knight’s early days at IU, as he built the team that would become arguably one of the best (if not the best ever) in the game. 

          I have a vague recollection of watching Bill Walton’s amazing 44-point performance in the 1973 Championship game against Memphis State  (possibly the single best individual performance in a Championship game).

          I was crushed watching Scott May sporting an arm cast bravely falling short of leading the IU troops to victory in their first undefeated season 1974-75, losing to UCLA in the Final Four.

          I was equally as thrilled watching the first IU Championship in the Modern Era as the 1975-76 team took it to the University of Michigan for a third time that season.

 

          1979 was a year for the almost miraculous, as I watched Larry Bird take a group of guys who were much better than me (as a high school sophomore) to the championship game only to run up against “SHOWTIME” in Magic Johnson and his Michigan State Spartans.

            Fast forward to 1981 and a feisty long-socked Isiah Thomas sliced and diced his way through the tournament, leading an IU team that wasn’t expected to do much all the way.

            Then, we come to 1987.  Knight had come close several times more in the 80s only to fall short.  The 1987 team supposedly had features atypical for a Knight squad (including recruited junior college transfers such as Dean Garrett and Keith Smart).  Like many IU teams, there were no bona fide NBA stars.  The best player was dead-on sharpshooter Steve Alford who would make his mark primarily as the man expected (but never-quite) to be Knight’s heir-apparent.

              The Syracuse squad was superior in many aspects.  Faster.  Stronger.  Bigger.  Maybe Boeheim was out-coached by the General or maybe IU just got lucky.

              All I can say is when the shot went through and when the seconds ticked off until the buzzer, I was yelling to beat the band.  I was watching the game at my dad and step-mom’s, not far from Bloomington.  As the buzzer sounded, I headed out to join the celebration in the streets.

              I’m not sure where I ended up that night.  The memory has faded or was shocked out of existence thanks to ECT.  Nonetheless, the game lives on.  And one day I’ll have another IU victory to celebrate.  One day.