ANOTHER BEGINNING

Another September with its new beginnings. This September begins with a new sermon series, requested by the church as part of our on-going self-study. We will spend a good part of the fall season looking at the mission of the church in general and our church in specific. I have already prepared and distributed the survey to evaluate the changes we have made in our approach to worship. They will clutter my briefcase for a few days (weeks?) until I find time to look them over. We have a special musical event coming up, which I don’t have to do too much for given my low level musical abilities. We have a sort of a plan for Advent that I need to pull together sometime before the Advent season. We might be a small church but we have a lot going on—and remember, that I serve two different collections of churches and so I have another whole different set of start up stuff going on there.

So, I begin this new church year with excitement and some anticipation of interesting things coming. Having the process going on in two places means that I have lots of excitement and positive anticipation to carry me through the church year. Except that I am also noticing something else. Underneath the excitement and anticipation is a fatigue. I am tired. I had a vacation in the summer and I purposely took compensatory time off over the summer—but I am still tired.

I am not tired enough to warrant sick leave—but I am tired enough that the food bank contributions from Sunday might sit in the car until tomorrow before I deliver them. I am not tired enough that I will mess up the new sermon series but I am tired enough that preparing any given sermon might take longer than it used to. I am not tired enough that I will require Bible study to be cancelled but I am tired enough that I will probably need a longer break (nap) after the study.

At some points in my ministry career, I would be worried that this fatigue was the first hint of a coming depression. And while I openly admit that is always a possibility, I don’t think that is the case right now. The fatigue could be a sign of some physical problem developing. I am going to get that checked out but since I have had regular tests and medical consults, I don’t think there is a serious medical reason for the tiredness.

I think that in the end, I am beginning this new church year with a sense fatigue simply because I have accumulated enough years that my energy levels aren’t what they used to be. I am getting old. I passed official retirement age recently but haven’t reached my personal compulsory retirement age. But I am definitely not a fresh out of school pastor, young and brimming with energy, ready to do a youth camping trip, a deacons’ meeting and write a sermon at the same time.

I am recognizing that I have new limits which require new ways of doing things. I can’t push myself as much as I used to. I can’t caffeinate my way through fatigue. I can’t run and not be weary—actually, because of my failing knees, I can’t really run and walking any distance requires a walking stick or cane. When I get done both Sunday worship services, I am probably not going to wish I was invited to be guest speaker at an evening service—I am much more likely to hope I can stay awake until after the evening news.

This is my reality. I like what I am doing, I think what I am doing is important and I plan on keeping doing it. But I also recognize the fatigue that has come from doing what I am doing for more years than I want to count. For now, I can manage the fatigue: naps, taking regular time off, getting proper exercise and sleep, eating well and so on are all part of the self-care process that I follow.

So, I start this new church year with excitement and anticipation tempered with the reality that while I care for the churches I have been called to, I also need to care for myself.

May the peace of God be with you.

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DON’T TALK TO ME!

I was very happy about the fact that one particular story didn’t get resurrected at our recent family reunion since it involved me. According to the story, I was upset over something and was outside grumping. A neighbour walked by and said something to me, at which I am supposed to have responded, “Don’t talk to me cause to be I’s mad.” I am pretty sure the whole story was made up, likely by some family member looking to divert attention from themselves.

I had—and still have to some extent—a problem with anger. Things and people would set me off and I would react. I had a variety of responses, depending on the level of anger and the context. Sometimes, the anger would lead to depression and self-isolation. Sometimes, my anger would lead me to break things, including my own treasures. At other times, my anger would express itself in caustic and deliberately hurtful comments. And there were times when my anger would cause me to respond physically.

Part of my growth process as a person and as a Christian was learning how to deal with my anger in healthy and positive ways. I won’t make any extravagant claims about how I have completely conquered my anger. It is still a reality and I still need to keep an eye on it and every now and then, it manages to break through the barriers and cause me and others problems. I have learned to understand my anger and have developed ways to deal with it that are consistent with my faith, mostly.

But I am always aware of the potential—which perhaps explains why I am so aware of the level of anger I see around me. We seem to have developed a very angry culture here in North America. No news report is complete without an interview with someone who is passionately angry about whatever the report is about. Anger shows up in the form of road rage, gang violence, social movements, protests.

It seems like no one can express an opinion or idea without someone getting angry and expressing that anger. If I think school buses should be yellow, someone is most likely going to angrily express the opinion that I am wrong, while at the same time expressing opinions on my intelligence and heredity. As we argue further, we will probably begin to hurl threats and maybe even engage in some form of violence.

It seems that we have allowed our culture to legitimize unhealthy anger. We don’t process anger—we express it. We don’t try to understand and deal with our anger—we broadcast it. We don’t grow through our anger—we seek to cause pain and hurt. This epidemic of anger has created a cultural context where everyone is somewhat paranoid and we are all on edge, wondering who is going to start shooting where.

I am very aware that anger is a legitimate, normal and even valuable emotional response. We were created with the ability and need to be angry. But it seems that we struggle with figuring out what to do with this emotion. At times, we have tried to force people to repress their anger, an approach that was and is extremely unhealthy. Repressed anger is extremely unhealthy for individuals and society—I am pretty sure that much of the depression that I struggle with is a result of repressed anger.

But at the same time, unrestrained anger is just as unhealthy to individuals and society. The kind of anger that I see so much of these days, the anger that is always present and which shows itself with little or no provocation is not helpful.

In the end, when anger expresses itself in violence that causes people to be hurt and killed, it doesn’t much matter if the actions are the result of long repressed anger or open, burning anger—the damage is the same. The ever increasing anger level in our culture is a serious problem, one that we don’t seem to really know how to handle.

Anger is a part of our emotional response to the world. It is a basic part of the makeup of humanity, a part that God gave us and which he had a purpose for. But if we don’t learn how to deal with our anger, well, the results are visible on every newscast.

May the peace of God be with you.

WHAT DO I DO?

I had my dream job: I was teaching in Kenya, helping prepare students for ministry in a growing, independent denomination. I was teaching in English but had ample opportunity to use Kiswahili. Everything was great except for the fact that I didn’t seem to be able to establish a comfortable working relationship with the mission board leadership. Eventually, things got to the point where we were fired.

I was deeply hurt. I crashed into a depression which was made worse by the fact that very few churches want to call a pastor who was getting close to retirement age. My pain and hurt and disappointment and depression were deep and strong and more than I wanted to deal with. I wanted to finish my ministry teaching others some of the things I had learned over the years—but instead, I was unemployed and perhaps even unemployable.

I found myself sometimes engaged in an interesting process. I wanted the whole mission board leadership to fall apart. Their mishandling of the situation would be discovered, they would be fired, I would be vindicated and offered the job of rebuilding the whole thing. I would, of course, refuse to accept the job, preferring to see the whole thing crash and burn. If I was going to have to feel pain, they should also feel the pain.

It was a pleasant fantasy that got me through more than a few difficult nights. But I was never tempted to make it more than a fantasy. While having the whole leadership become unemployed and the whole organization come crashing down might have seemed like a fitting response to my pain, even if that had happened, I would still have been unemployed in Canada, not teaching in Kenya and more importantly, still dealing with as much pain.

I made a decision very early in the pain management process that I think was God-inspired—it certainly didn’t originate with me. I decided that I was going to let them go their way and I was going to go my way. I would speak neither for nor against them. The painful process we were involved in was done and in the past—nothing was going to change that.

By helping me accepting that reality and focus on dealing with my pain and hurt, I think I was given a gift of grace. God showed me a better way. Rather than try to make others feel pain, I was given the grace to see and feel and deal with my pain. This grace kept me where I needed to be—dealing with what I could deal with. I couldn’t change the decision that brought us home. I couldn’t alleviate my pain by causing others pain. I couldn’t bring peace by stirring up trouble for others.

I could, with the grace of God, see and deal with my pain. As I waded through depression and hurt and confusion, I was able to see how much I was hurt, why I was hurting, how the hurt was affecting the rest of my life. I was also able to see the grace that God was setting before me through empathetic friends, concerned pastors, even inspired strangers. God was and is at work, helping me not only see the reality of the pain I was experiencing but also helping me see that through his graceful presence, I could deal with the pain.

I was able to see how my personality interacted poorly with the corporate culture I was trying to work in. I was able to understand that when one thing falls apart, God in his grace has a plan B or C. I was able to see that in the power of God’s presence, I could live in spite of the hurt. I learned to deal with the pain in the way it needed to be dealt with. It is and was my pain and I needed to deal with it internally. Fortunately, I had the grace and presence of God to help me in the process.

I still am aware of the pain that came from the whole event. But I am doing okay—I am not depressed, I am involved in what I see as an important ministry and I am at peace. The mission board hasn’t collapsed and they haven’t offered me the job of reforming it but that really doesn’t matter—with God’s grace, I learned to deal with the pain.

May the peace of God be with you.

SUMMER SLUMP

I have been a bit concerned these last few days about my mental state. Work has become harder and harder: after writing two sermons this week, I sat down to work on a short devotional for an upcoming nursing service and had nothing. I puttered for about an hour, writing out the order of service, finding a suitable text for the service, trying to develop an idea but nothing was coming. And to make matters worse, the solitaire game that normally helps me think picked this day to present me with essentially unwinnable games.

I coupled that with my general lethargy—I am not overly interested in doing much these days. The thought of moving from the chair is quickly banished by the realization that if I sit just a bit longer, I just might be able to fall asleep.

My thinking eventually caught up with my symptoms and I began to wonder if I had somehow slipped into a depression. Normally, I am pretty vigilant and have a pretty good idea when I am moving in that direction and as well, a pretty good idea why I am moving that way. But I don’t always catch myself and so on some levels, I was beginning to worry that I was slipping into a depression. Part of me was concerned but another part of me just wanted to click on another Youtube video that I might end up sleeping through.

The part of me that is a bit more mature did manage to keep working and I have decided that although depression is a possibility, it is more likely that I am suffering from a basic summer slump. It has been hot, humid and not overly busy these last couple of weeks. The heat and humidity keep me from doing a lot outside and the not overly busy allows me to realize that I have been pushing myself since the beginning of April. With some breathing space in my schedule, I am realizing how little breathing space I have had since then.

I also realized that part of the not wanting to do anything is a result of the fact that I have two weeks of vacation coming pretty quickly. We will attend a family reunion, have some time with two of our children and their families and I won’t have to write a sermon for two weeks. The anticipation is likely working away somewhere in my mind, suggesting that maybe since the break is coming, we might just as well start early.

So, the bottom line is that I am not depressed and am not likely getting close to a depression. I am tired, I need a vacation and the heat and humidity make it harder to get a good night’s sleep. I suspect that if I am not careful this naturally occurring summer slump could turn into a depression so I have to keep an eye on things. Managing a pre-vacation slump is much easier than managing a depression, though.

Because it is hot and humid, I am not much interested in doing a lot of physical stuff—but instead of mindlessly watching videos or TV, I have been reading some of the books I have bought with the gift cards I have accumulated. It is amazing what great stuff is available on Ebook sites at sale prices.

I make an effort to move, even when it is hot and humid. The lawn needs to be mowed, the planter with my lettuce and tomato plant need weeding and watering, the mail needs to be picked up, and the rotten board on the deck does need to be replaced. I also need to give some thought into how I am going to turn a couple of pieces of rescued birch firewood into candle holders for our Advent celebration this year, although it is a bit hard to think of Advent when it is so hot. And of course, the vacation is coming. I can deal with the stuff I need to do before that—it will get done, even the reluctant nursing home service.

Until then, I will do what I need to do, relax when I have the opportunity, enjoy the books, survive the heat and plan for the vacation. I am in an understandable slump, not a worrying depression. And now, I have to move because the lawn needs to be mowed before it gets too hot.

May the peace of God be with you.

NOT DEPRESSED

Because depression tends to be one of my less desired coping mechanisms, I am generally on the lookout for signs that I am slipping into another bout of the familiar low level, persistent depression that steals enjoyment from me and those around me. There are some clear signs that I have learned to watch for over the years. Feeling tired is one, especially if I find myself telling myself “I’m tired” a lot. Inability to get out of the chair is another, as is becoming more and more focused on TV or Youtube. Depression also brings an increase in appetite in its early stages, especially for junk food, cheese sandwiches and lots of sugar. Disturbed sleep patterns are also part of the warning package.

Over the last few weeks, I have noticed a lot of these symptoms and began to get a bit worried/prepared for another bout of depression. But as I began the process of looking at what was going on and trying to discover what was pushing me towards depression, I discovered that although the symptoms might be there, I am not actually depressed.

I am tired, there is no question about that. But I actually know why I am tired. The past three months have been extra busy for a variety of reasons and I simply don’t have the same energy level I had when I was younger. Physically, emotionally and intellectually, I get tired sooner and more often. But being tired isn’t the same as being depressed.

I also found myself sitting more—but some of that has to do with arthritic knees that react poorly to standing and walking and stuff like that. However, since they also react poorly to long bouts of sitting, I realized that I might sit a lot but I also moved around a lot—I just don’t go for hour long walks like I used to.

I do spend time in front of the TV and actually watch Youtube videos. But I have limits and keep them. The TV in the kitchen is on when I am cooking and I watch an hour or so before the news in the evening. Youtube, well, I watch one or two as a break and then move on to something else a bit more constructive.

I do have an appetite for chips, cheese sandwiches and extra cookies, which I sometimes give into. But in truth, I have those appetites anyway and have to set limits all the time. Having the desire for a bag of chips and cheese sandwich isn’t really a sign of depression—it’s the giving into the desire too many times that is the real symptom and so far, I have been doing okay there. I am also sleeping well, or at least as well as I normally do—even my non-depressed self doesn’t often have an unbroken night of sleep.

So, the signs are there but I am not depressed. I am definitely tired, definitely sitting more and dealing with other stuff but right now, I am not depressed. And for me, that is important. I probably should be depressed—I definitely have been at other points in my life when I have been stressed from work and over-tired but right now, I am not depressed.

I am not rejoicing too loudly or emphatically. I am not seeing this lack of depression as a sign that I have finally been freed from the pain of depression. I am not going to write a book on how I overcame a life time of low level depression. I am not going to blog about how God has delivered me from the demons of depression.

No, I am not going to do any of that. I can’t guarantee that I won’t be depressed again. So, this is what I am going to do.

I will take a nap or two. I am going to watch a Youtube video or two. I am going to write a sermon or two, attend a meeting or two, lead Bible studies and worship, do some thinking about the churches’ directions, read some books, take a short walk and even mow the lawn. I am going to deal with what is going on without having to deal with the overlay of low-level depression that sometimes hits when circumstances are like they are now. But for now, I am not depressed and I can enjoy that.

May the peace of God be with you.

BEING FAITHFUL

This week’s posts have been more on the introspective side and could be interpreted to suggest that I am slipping into the chasm of depression—introspection, especially introspection focused on the realities of my current pastoral settings, can easily go that way. Small and decreasing numbers combined with my age and stage of life could make it easy to feel that not only am I wasting my time now but since I have spent my whole life in ministry with small churches, maybe I have wasted my whole ministry.

And I will openly confess that I am no stranger to that line of thought. When I hear of a colleague or former student who has been called to a larger congregation, I have a tinge (or more) of jealousy. When I realize that my name doesn’t come up much anymore when people are looking for someone to be a part of an important committee, I am simultaneously relieved that I don’t have to make a decision about the extra work and annoyed that I wasn’t even considered.

That being said, the times of jealousy and annoyance are not a major part of my life—they are there but on the scale of how they affect me, they are more like the bald spot I can’t see on the back of my head than the continual pain from my very old knees. I know the bald spot is there but while a full head of hair would be nice, it isn’t something I spend much energy on, except to remember a hat on sunny days—a sunburned bald spot isn’t pleasant.

A year or two after I had begun my first pastoral charge, I got a letter from a large congregation—you know this was a long time ago because it was an actual letter, not an email or text. People did that sort of thing way back then. Anyway, this church, one of the largest in the area at the time, wanted me to submit a resume for consideration as their next pastor. I was home by myself when I got the letter and it was exciting and gratifying and I was sure that this had to be God’s leading. I began packing—at least in my mind, I began packing.

But there was still a sermon to write for the church I was serving and a Bible study to get ready and a call or two to make. I also went for a walk—this was back in the days when my knees didn’t control my activity as much. The day passed and the letter sat on my desk—I was sure that when my wife got home from work, we would both be planning our move.

Except that by the time she got home, I realized that although it was really flattering to be considered for that position, it wasn’t for me. At the time, I realized it wasn’t for me at that point in time but looking back, I now realize that the call to a big congregation wasn’t ever one for me. God had a place and a purpose for me, one that kept me serving and working with small struggling congregations that needed someone to really care for them.

Since that first letter, there have been other letters, emails and phone calls from larger churches. Each one brought much the same reaction—excitement at being considered followed eventually by a clear sense that this wasn’t for me. And it wasn’t because I was avoiding the big churches—it was just that each time, there was the clear sense that I was where I was for a reason and when that reason was taken care of God would clearly show me what was next.

Being faithful has always been important to me, more important than moving up the ladder. I am not suggesting that anyone accepting a call to a larger church isn’t being faithful—I am saying that for me to have accepted any of those calls would have been unfaithful. Most of the people I know serving large congregations are good at what they do and are faithfully serving where they are clearly called.

The facts that I am sometimes jealous of them and often these days don’t really know what I am doing are realities that I am aware of. But the deeper reality is that I have tried to be faithful and that is more important to me than anything.

May the peace of God be with you.

DURING THE HYMN

A couple of Sundays ago, I was standing behind the pulpit conducting my second worship service for the day. The first service had gone well with a larger than expected attendance. This service was also better attended than I expected. I might be the pastor of small churches and thus used to low numbers but it is still nice when there are more people than expected present.

Anyway, the congregation was singing one of the hymns, I was thinking—I have to confess that music isn’t a huge part of my life and doesn’t have the same effect on me that it has for some people. I like music but since I don’t sing well and am not really into music, my mind wanders during the singing. Sometimes, the wandering thoughts are about what comes next in the service or why so and so isn’t present or something equally pastoral.

But at that service, I found myself thinking about my ministry in general. I realized that I was leading that worship service and the dominant feeling I had was fatigue. I wasn’t excited about the higher attendance; I wasn’t caught up in the worship; I wasn’t enthused about the chance to minister to God’s people. I was just tired and my knees were hurting.

By the time we got to the second verse, I was wondering what was wrong with me—was I slipping into depression? Or was I bordering on burnout? No—a quick self-examination revealed that I was just tired—but not sleepy tired and not didn’t sleep well tired. It was not even the results of a too busy week tired. It was a fatigue that comes from being involved in some form of ministry for around 40 years. It is the tired that comes from doing something that requires me to give a lot of myself to a lot of people for a lot of years.

I don’t have the emotional energy that I had 20 or thirty or forty years ago. Early in ministry, everything was new and exciting and I could and did experiment and play and have fun. I didn’t know a whole lot about what I was doing but what I lacked in knowledge, I tried to make up for with enthusiasm and commitment.

By about the third verse, I was doing some deeper reflection. Was I cheating the church or maybe even slipping in my commitment to God? Before the guilt kicked in, I realized that wasn’t the case. I was and am working hard for both pastorates. We are involved in self-examination; we are trying new ideas; we are enabling each other to grow in faith; we are discovering and developing new ministries to ourselves and our communities. As pastor, I am involved and engaged and working hard to help us as churches discover and carry out God’s will for us.

I realized that these days, I minister much more from knowledge and wisdom that from emotion. I still experiment and play with things. I still examine, research, hypothesize and work to help implement new ideas and ministries. I may not get overly excited but I am still completely committed to what I am doing. I am still giving the best that I am capable of giving.

Early in my ministry, the best I could give was a little knowledge and lots of energy and enthusiasm. These days, I have much more knowledge and wisdom (maybe) but less energy and enthusiasm. I am pretty sure the ultimate sum is the same: lots of energy and enthusiasm plus little knowledge probably produces the same results as flagging energy combined with significant knowledge and wisdom. I may be more tired these days, but I still know what I am doing and am still committed to doing it as well as I am able. I might need more naps and breaks in the process but I am aware enough to know when and how to take the nap and the break without harming the overall ministry.

Finally, we arrive at the last verse of the hymn and I move on to the next part of the worship service, feeling better about myself and my ministry. I am tired and it is a fatigue that probably won’t go away after a nap or a vacation. But it is also a fatigue that isn’t taking away from my ability to do what I have been called to do.

May the peace of God be with you.

YUCKY WEATHER AND BAD KNEES

In my ongoing issue with depression, I have identified another factor in the process, or actually two factors that are sort of tied together. The first is the weather. I happen to like winter, even if, according to most of the members of the churches I serve, that makes me strange. But I enjoy snow and cold weather and snowstorms. A nice snow storm is really enjoyable, provided of course that the power doesn’t fail and no one is stranded on the road. I enjoy that weather sitting in our warm living room looking out the window—but I also enjoy it when I am out in it, shoveling the snow or cross-country skiing or trying to get the cars into the driveway.

So, part of the low grade depression I seem to be dealing with these days probably comes from the fact that so far, our winter has been a bust. We have had snow and cold weather and all the winter stuff—but just as soon as it comes and begins to look good, the weather changes and we get warm weather and rain. All the snow goes and everything is grey and depressing. A cloudy day with snow on the ground is always going to be brighter than a rainy, cloudy min-winter day—and given the strong connection between light and some depressions, the lack of snow has to have an effect. Of course, there are all those people in the churches who will tell me that the presence of snow depresses them.

So, the weather has some effect on my depression. It might to bad if I could get outside and do a few things. Part of my plan for today, for example, involves working on the cabinet I am building—but that may not happen because of the weather since I have to do the messy sawing and sanding outside. Unfortunately, neither the power tools nor the pine react well to getting wet.

At one time, I would have essentially ignored the weather, pulled on a rain suit over my warm clothes and gone for a nice long walk. But this is where the second factor kicks in. I can’t really do any serious walking. Even going down the basement stairs requires some planning as I mentally set up a list of things that I need or can do down there. Stairs present problems for my arthritic knees and the fewer trips I make, the better. And if a few stairs are a problem, a nice long walk becomes something of an impossibility, unless there is someone on call to pick me up when the knees decide they have had enough.

In short, I, like many people in my peer group, am dealing with the realities of aging. There are certain real and indisputable limits that develop just because of the fact that I have been around for 65+ years. The increasingly limiting aches and pains, the progressing wear and tear of various bits and pieces, the increasing fatigue all emphatically state that I can’t do what I used to be able to do.

This all comes together on a dark and rainy mid-winter day. There is no snow to add some bright edge to the day. The rain means I can’t pretend to be a carpenter and turn nice boards into sawdust. The arthritis means I can’t defy the rain and go for a walk. So, I sit in the living room, type a blog post and wonder what I am going to do for the rest of the day, or at least until the theology student I am mentoring shows up for his appointment this afternoon.

That can be depressing, at least for me. But I think I am on top of this particular bout of depression. I have options that don’t involve walking, woodworking or too many trips down the basement stairs and which aren’t as pointless as hours of Youtube. I have some new books that are quite interesting. I have that mentoring session. And above all, I have my faith, which is what always keeps the depression under control in the end.

I may be prone to depression. The weather and my increasing physical limits may encourage that depression. But in the end, I know that God is with me and he will help me as I deal with it all and the depression will not take over.

May the peace of God be with you.

WHY BOTHER?

I realized recently that I might be sitting on the edge of depression. While I am normally aware when I start getting to that point, it sort of crept up on me for a variety of reasons. I have been tired since Christmas, a tiredness that wasn’t really helped by our vacation trip—the trip was great but the travel process is always tiring. Also, I am sitting more these days—my arthritic knees are bothering me more and more and being off them feels better than being on them. And, because one of the churches I serve has shut down for three months, I have less to do.

So, it was easy to rationalize not doing stuff—I am still tired from Christmas and the trip, my knees are hurting or will hurt and there is nothing I really have to do. Sitting in the chair and watching Youtube seems justified. And so I wasn’t keeping all that close an eye out for the things that indicate I am slipping into a depression.

I have things to do: the latest woodworking project is underway, the newest issue of National Geographic arrived this week, there is always a need to write blog entries, there are several people I could meet for coffee, I could even hobble my way through a short walk. But with all the possibilities, I found myself sitting in the chair, glued to the screen mindlessly. I would find myself thinking about some of the options and asking, “Why bother?”.

Everything would take a lot of effort. Working on the cabinet would require dragging the saw and sander and other tools outside and it is cold out there. I could read my magazine but that would require using the keyboard to navigate the pages (I get the digital version). I could call or text a friend but that would require getting dressed for the weather and driving to a coffee shop. I could go for a walk but that would require dressing for the weather and finding my walking stick and maybe being in pain afterwards. Why bother?

So, now I have a choice. I can let the depression develop or I can do something about it that might prevent it from developing. The reality for me is that the depression I sometimes slip into is totally dependent on my response to my situation—there is no medical basis for it. There might be a genetic disposition to dealing with life by getting depressed but essentially, the depression I deal with is a result of the way I deal with things and is most effectively dealt with by recognizing it and deciding to things differently.

And while that is incredibly easy to write, the actual practise is much harder. Depression can be self-sustaining and self-perpetuating, at least for me. When I start getting depressed, I begin making choices that sustain and enable the depression. Given a choice between moving the saw outside to create some sawdust from otherwise good boards or staring mindlessly at a Youtube video, it becomes easier to stare at the laptop screen.

The earlier I spot the symptoms of the coming depression, the easier it is to change the behaviours that encourage the depression. Based on my reluctance to change behaviours right now, I am probably further along than I would like to be and therefore facing a somewhat more difficult process that I would have if I had been paying more attention.

I have to confess, though, that even though I can see where I am, it is still difficult to motivate myself to deal with it. Depression is somehow comfortable in its familiarity—I have been here enough that I have developed a tolerance for a certain level of depression, maybe even some sort of psychological habituation to it. It might not feel good but it feels familiar. The temptation is to let the familiarity have more say in the process than is healthy.

Based on past experience, I know that I will eventually come out of this developing depression. I don’t actually like being depressed, not even if it feels familiar and comfortable like an old, well worn pair of jeans. I could start dealing with it right now—I just have to convince myself that it is worth the bother.

May the peace of God be with you.

THINKING, FEELING AND BELIEVING

            Right now, I have been doing quite well when it comes to depression.  While I have experienced some bouts of tiredness that result from overwork, they have not transmuted into depression.  So it is a good time to look at my depression and think about something that I realized a while ago that has been a very important factor in how I deal with depression.

When I am depressed, I feel miserable.  I am an introvert so I am not overly social but when I get depressed, it is worse.  I feel tired all the time.  I have a dark and negative view of life–nothing will work out.  At the same time, my thinking gets distorted.  I no longer want to write or work or lead Bible study–all of it becomes a job and half, a job and a half I would rather not have.

When I am depressed, I feel depressed.  Very early in the process, I recognize what it happening and know I am depressed–my thinking tells me I am depressed.  Because I am oriented towards thinking, I can probably figure out why I am depressed, it I can muster up enough energy and initiative to do it.  When I am depressed, I feel depressed, my thinking is depressed and I can follow the thinking-feeling process around and around in circles.  I feel depressed, I think I am depressed and both my thinking and feeling conspire to keep me there.

But I made a discovery many years ago.  I have feelings and I am a thinking person–but I am also a person of faith.  And that faith has a deep and powerful effect on both my thinking and feeling.  It has a powerful effect no matter what–but when I actively and consciously involve my faith in the depression, it has an even more powerful effect.

It all came into focus during one spell of depression.  For most people suicidal thoughts are part of the depression  process at some point.  But in a flash of divine insight, I realized that I generally didn’t give suicide much thought during my depression.  It was there but I never really looked at it as a serious option.  That insight was startling enough that even in my depression, I had to think about it.

Now, the process was slower and more difficult because of the depression but I eventually realized that deep down, underneath the depression, beyond the thinking, there was a powerful core of faith–I might feel depressed, I might be thinking depression but I still believed that God was there and that his love and grace were carrying me and that faith was more important and significant in my life than either the depression or the disordered thought process.

I believe–and that belief creates a solid and secure foundation for everything else in my life.  Because I believe, I have hope–and the best and most effective antidote for depression is hope.  The hope my faith produces isn’t dependent on what I am thinking or feeling, it isn’t dependent on what is happening or not happening in my life, it isn’t lessened by my depression.  It is just there, forming the core of my being.

So, I get depressed–but because I believe, I am depressed in the presence and power of God and no matter how far down I get, that faith is going to be there.  And because it is there, I know that the depression isn’t the end nor the be all of my life–there is more because of God.

And once I re-discover that core of faith, God can and does work within me to give me whatever I need to overcome the depression.  And that is true whether the causes of the depression change or not.

As I write this, I am aware that it sounds like I am playing games in my mind or denying what is really going on.  And I may be doing some of that sometimes–but the bottom line for me is that I am a person of faith and so I do believe that God is present and willing to help.  And so I call upon that faith to help me when my thinking and feeling get distorted by depression or something else.  And really, if that isn’t a valid expression of faith, what it the point of having faith in the first place?

May the peace of God be with you.