I Trust When Dark My Road

Ex. 16:1   They set out from Elim, and all the congregation of the people of Israel came to the wilderness of Sin, which is between Elim and Sinai, on the fifteenth day of the second month after they had departed from the land of Egypt. 2 And the whole congregation of the people of Israel grumbled against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness, 3 and the people of Israel said to them, “Would that we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the meat pots and ate bread to the full, for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.”

I find myself longing to go on disability again, from time to time.  When things get crazy, when the pressure is on, when I feel like I can’t handle all of the stress, I long for the fleshpots of Egypt.  “Would that I could go back to lying around sleeping all day!  Would that I could go back to no responsibilities, free to do whatever I want or feel!  Would that I could ignore my family, my wife, my children, my church, my friends, my everything!  Oh things would be so much better then!”

Have you felt that way?  I have.  I get that way when the going gets tough.  I get that way when I just plain don’t want to deal with the stuff of life.  I want to run.  I want to hide.  I want people to LEAVE ME ALONE and not bother me. Oh how I long for the good ole’ days of being sick.

Of course, what I forget is the despair which was my constant companion.  I forget not being able to move, feeling like I lived in molasses, and that I couldn’t string two thoughts together.  I forget that I couldn’t be in a “crowd” of more than about one person.  I forget the suicidal thoughts, the darkness that covered me, and the utter impotence of life under the weight of depression.  I forget these things only too easily.

God has blessed me with healing and hope.  He has given my a family who loves me, a church who loves me, and many friends who have been there through everything.  He has given me all of this, and more.  He has given me His Son, who has gone down into the depths of despair and abandonment for me.  He has given me His Holy Spirit, who comforts me when I am faint, and who prays with me and for me, even if I have not the words.  All this and more He gives me.

What He gives to me, He gives to you.  Do not be afraid of the darkness.

-DMR

Good Friday is really about life for me. Two years ago Good Friday, I was sitting at home, preparing for my minimal role in services. I had been on disability for about 2 months, and things were going fairly well. I got a phone call from the people that handle disability claims at our insurance company. They were just calling to inform me that since I had shown “some” improvement according to my doctor, that they were taking me off disability.

This began a series of events that I can only describe as surreal. I began a downward spiral that brought be to being suicidal. It was a gift from God that we had the divine service that day, for without that, I don’t know what I would have been doing. My pastor stayed with me as much as possible. I was a zombie, barely conscious, yet fully believing that there was no way I could get out of this, no way I could recover from such a blow. If I didn’t have the time and space I needed to heal, then I would only get worse. What was the point?

But God is merciful.

I lived.  Somehow our Lord got me through the Great Three Days.   After Easter I went to stay with some dear friends for a couple weeks to rest and try to recover some level of sanity and normalcy.  Things got better.  It took a long time, with setbacks along the way and all kinds of other gunk to go through, but things did get better.

So Good Friday for me is about life.  It’s about that life God gives to each one of us.  It’s about the Life that was given for my life.   It’s about the gift of seeing my children grow up, having friends and family who care deeply for us, and it’s about the ongoing work that our Lord does to keep us in the faith all the days of our lives.  No matter how dark the road.

A blessed Good Friday to you.

-DMR

Once you have gotten your medication under control, the disability people to believe that you and your doctor actually want you to get back to work, then at some point down the road (weeks, probably months) you will start to be ready to come back to earth.

This presents its own sets of challenges. If you are at the beginning of the journey, it may be hard to fathom being at this point, so I’ll try to describe it a bit. Any or all of these may apply. You are

• Bored with sitting around the house all day.
• Anxious to get moving, even if it is just a little.
• Start to feel jealous of other people being in your pulpit, and taking care of other pastoral duties for you.
• Longing for normalcy in a much more concrete way before. You can remember what it was really like.
• Not despairing over every event that takes place. You can start to do tasks, face responsibilities, and do some of those things you enjoyed before depression.

These are just a few. I’m sure a dozen more clinical answers could be provided. Here are a few things to consider on the way:

• DON’T GO TOO FAST. After two false starts at returning to work, I know of what I speak. Trust your doctor and your therapist. I’m not sure if you could move back too slowly. This is hard. Really hard. At least for me. My therapist, in their lovely non-directive sort of fashion, has had to head me off at the pass many many times.
• Trust your instincts. Now that is a very un-Lutheran thing to say, but in this case, it really is true. If you feel like you’re getting overwhelmed or that you are about to turn into a zombie (so to speak), you probably will. So stop before you get there.
• Start with easy things before the tough stuff. This too may appear obvious, but it is critical. Start with the easiest things for you, things that will give you satisfaction and confidence in who you are and what your Office is as pastor of the flock. For me, that means starting with doing the liturgy. It is the most natural thing for me, like breathing. After that comes Bible Class and Preaching. Those two are more exhausting, because they require more creativity, but on the other hand they are very satisfying, and they are two things I do pretty well (at least according to others). The hardest things for me parish wise are still making calls, conflict, and sort of general socializing. Those will come last, I expect.
• Focus on what is good and right, and recognize that the bad hours or days will pass. At the risk of misuing St. Paul, he speaks of this in Philippians four. I know how hard this is. It is a habitus of prayer and being soaked in the Word. But by the mercy of God, it will come in time.

That is what’s on my mind. What’s on yours?

-DMR

As I continue on the road to recovery, there have been a couple bright spots that I thought would be worth mentioning here. You never can tell what is really going to be important to you somehow.

Chase
For my children, the mark of my illness and recovery is very simple. Chase. If I can play chase, I must be getting better. If I can’t play chase, then I’m still sick in the head (or something to that effect). Because right now the hardest thing for me to handle is my children, chase sort of represents a reentry into my family’s regular life schedule.

Chase is hard. I know, I know. It’s just running around like a crazy person with a few kids. But for the person suffering from depression, that kind of unwanton abandon, noise, suddon movement and general insanity is way outside of the normal comfort zone. It requires energy, excitement, the ability to say BOO at just the right time, etc.

In other words, just about everything that is difficult, all wrapped up in something that is so easy that most people do it even without thinking. But that is so often the case with depression. Things that you believe should be easy can become difficult on the way to impossible.

I think I’ve played chase once in the last year. This is down from at least once a day, maybe more. The once was last week. If we can move to once a week, that will be a huge step in the right direction

Preaching and Preparation
I’ve been preaching more and more the last couple months. Right now I’m pretty close to every week. Most of the sermons have been reruns, or last-minute throw together jobs. They were not my best were, or if they were, they were my best work from 2-5 years ago.

But last week was the first week that I had “normal” preparation for my sermon. Look at the text early in the week, read patristic and Luther sermons, see if there’s anything worthwhile that’s modern, and then write it down early enough in the week so I have time to edit it. Something like that. This happened last week. I don’t really even know why, it just did. So my Sermon on Sunday was much more relaxed, more “normal” for me. The congregation probably couldn’t tell the difference, but I could. It was a good sign.

Here are some questions for you:
1) What have you found the most difficult thing to come back to doing?
2) What made or is making it the most difficult?
3) What has been the easiest part of your life to return to “normal” and why?
4) What will never be the same?

Food for thought,
-DMR

There is one thing which is important to understand when it comes to insurance companies: money is what the point is. It doesn’t matter if it’s CPS or any of the other myriad of health insurance companies out there. They are there to make money.

So for them, disability is a very bad thing. (For the sick, it is a very good thing.)

What this means in English is that in all likelihood they will push you to get off of disability sooner than you are ready, just like they will try and force you to get off of non-generic drugs. Those are more expensive. So what they will do is come up with most any reason they can to take you off of disability. A slightly positive comment from your therapist or doctor. You saying in a phone interview “I really think I could work some”. They will glom on to anything possible.

I write this not to denigrate our healthcare system. The LCMS has one of the best healthcare programs in the country. I shudder to think of the hoops one might have to jump through with some of these others.

So in understanding these things, you need to know your rights. Here are at least some of them as I have come to understand it:

1. You have the right to be sick. They can’t make you better on a piece of paper. Mental illness is real, painful, and debilitating. They cannot pretend this isn’t an illness.
2. Your doctors and you determine when you need to go on disability, not them. Certainly there are requirements, etc, etc, etc. But the bottom line is that if your doctors say you are not ready to go back to work, then you’re not ready, and no “peer review” can trump an actual doctor’s professional opinion.
3. Your goal is to get better, not to freeload off of “the system”. This may be obvious to you, but part of the reason why health care companies are so skittish about disability is it’s abuse. If you make it clear to them that you want to get back to work, that will be one of the things they want to hear.
4. Disability is intended for healing, not heartache. Every time they make it more difficult for you to stay on disability, they are probably prolonging your sickness. This needs to be repeated to them over and over again. It is costing them money, they will be legally liable with any problems, and the like.
5. God is merciful, and he will take care of you. Ok, that’s not a “right”, but it is a gift given to you in the waters of Holy Baptism. You may confidently trust that our Lord will take care of you through thick and thin, as he best sees fit.

So what am I missing, friends?

-DMR