Go gently in the numbness

FEELING paralysed, if under spiritual attack, or overwhelmed by the ferocity of life, brings us into that certain location of aberrant uncertainness.

We sit there or lay there totally immobile. Nothing can make its way through or into us. We are magnificently perplexed. Insanity, if we’ve never experienced it before, must feel something like this. Everything in the mind is seized and locked up.

Then we might utter some gibberish with a concerned partner or friend who is thereby positioned as counsellor (whether they or you like it or not).

The words used and the quality of the communication are irrelevant at this point. Getting unbogged is never pretty, but it is critically necessary.

Going gently in the numbness is the augury of wisdom, a power altogether available even in helplessness. Indeed, wisdom might come to the fore, even in the numbness by the fact of knowing that only gentleness will do.

Our souls are most vulnerable in the numbness of not knowing what to do or being unable to do anything. What we most need is our own gentle ministry to ourselves — or, as us believers will purport, God’s Spiritual Presence, which is a potent form of such a thing only we could avail of for ourselves.

Gentleness is everything to an otherwise seriously fatigued soul, as in the gentleness and humility of the Spirit of Christ of Matthew 11:28-30. Such gentleness is rest for our souls. Such gentleness is all that could add value at times like this. Gentleness that takes pressure away.

I speak of personal experience here.

Vanquished of spirit and bereft of soul — or so it appeared to me — I was able to detect a courageous personal honesty, but one so vulnerable as to need unconditional acceptance. God so often provided just the person for me, as for me I was often a person placed in such another person’s brutally vulnerable situation.

Numbness is the soul so brutalised that neither the mind nor the heart could help.

Yet, at the same time, numbness was needed so the soul could break the shackles of the mind (thinking) and the heart (feeling) that ‘knew better’.

Of course, nothing within us knows better than the soul, for the soul is God’s indwelt vessel, and all the mind and heart could do would be to flummox the soul.

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So go gently into the numbness that can neither think nor feel, for numbness is close to God where only God might help.

Remember that God’s true help is truly the only help we need. And God’s true help comes truly through others.

Don’t be hassled by the exigent, flailing mind and heart as they panic.

Gain rest for your soul when you’re numb. Go gently. Accept what is. It is easier to do than we initially think.

Commitment annuls the curse of indecision

I’ve waited a while before writing this article.  I’ve been ruminating on it for some time; two months actually, and for me that’s a long time.  I needed to see something stick.

The last six months of last year was a season where I was overwhelmed and triggered on a weekly, usually Sunday, basis.  Not only that, but on these weekly occasions I’d get to the point where I wanted to give up.  I was reaching the end of myself.  It was scary because, as Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” and my heart felt vulnerable.

Sounds drastic I know, but it was the truth—for six days I’d work hard, productively, satisfactorily, contentedly, yet on that seventh day I’d fold in the spiritual attack of despair.  I was miserable to live with on those days.  The amount of long complaining conversations that my wife put up with on those days was tiring for her.  I would ‘bend her ear’ for an hour or more!  No matter how much I complained about my tiredness for working the equivalent of one-and-a-half or two full-time jobs I just had no peace.

On those days, I just couldn’t resolve the despair I would slide into.  Yet, I wasn’t depressed.  Life on those other six days per week was normal and even great.  But the seventh day I felt crushed.

Fortunately from a faith perspective, there were numerous divine interventions that reminded me I wasn’t alone.

I had a pastor friend who started to text me 7.30am every Sunday morning without fail, right about the time I was doing my final preparation for the message I was going to preach, often when I was tired.  Those texts were a powerful instrument for hope.

One Sunday in church before I got up to speak, I had a person walk up and whisper a prophetic message—I didn’t really know this person, but what she had to say was exactly what I needed to hear.  It gave me hope that I was seen in my plight.

Each of those hard Sundays where I would literally have all the energy sucked out of me were followed by Mondays where new life was breathed into me.  Somehow, no matter how bad my low days got, there were regular enough breakthroughs that reminded me that my life was still headed somewhere good.

Though I regularly lost hope, hope had not lost its grip on me.

So what was the problem?  I was unsettled, wanting something else.  I didn’t like, and therefore didn’t accept, where I was.  I wanted to be elsewhere.  What I was doing wasn’t good enough.  I was in a hurry to get to the next phase of my life.  And how did I discover I was unsettled?

Last year I was seriously considered for five pastoral positions (interviewed for all five—and I withdrew from four before a decision had been made) and one of those positions I was offered the job (as a community chaplain) and I’d actually accepted the role.  In December I had my resignation email written out and was one conversation away from leaving my role in the fire and emergency services.  A start date in February 2022 for the new position had been set.  I was already planning how I’d start that role with the new employer.

Then something happened.

On December 19, after another triggered Sunday night, that ended in an argument with my wife because I wasn’t happy, we were sitting on the side of the bed feeling defeated and suddenly something dawned on me.

I was fearful of making the wrong decision, of regretting leaving a secure job for something that was exciting yet had a whole range of unknowns about it.  I recall saying to Sarah, “I think I’m fearful... I can see a vision now about just how close I was going to get to leaving DFES.”  It was true.  In getting ready to leave, suddenly I could see that all along I was never going to leave, but that I was going to come super close to it.  That vision was another sign.

During the week before Christmas and through the week before New Year, I continued feeling tired every second day.  I really feared that I was burnt out.  I couldn’t see how I’d recover.  Life was just too frenetic.  And what I found really anxiety-evoking was I wasn’t going to get a break at year’s end.

But something happened the morning after that December 19 Sunday night.

Once I resolved that I was staying in my fire and emergency services role, I could suddenly see the purpose in it.  But only once I’d committed.  I began to see that I was there by divine appointment.  It’s what I needed to see.  I also began to see that the pastoral position I’ve been in for a few years now is right where I’m supposed to be.

I’d grown chronically unsettled and wanting to be elsewhere, preferably back in full-time ministry, but I’d failed to see that I was already in full-time ministry—on mission.  I had my mission, but I couldn’t accept it.

As I faced the truth, that I’m right where I need to be, everything began to click into place.

Suddenly, the enormous workload I’ve got was so much more achievable.  I’d learned in my AA days that there are two pests of the thought life: hurry and indecision.

The indecision I’d been living in for at least five years took me to the brink of burnout.  It was indecision—a lack of commitment to the present mission—that was burning me out.  Living without hope is exhausting.

What’s the lesson in all this?

Commit fully to the life you’ve got, to the life you’ve been put into.  Stop looking over the fence to a lawn that looks greener but has its own perils.  Do well what you can now and leave the rest in faith that it all works out in the end.  Most of all, commit to those who have committed to you, and stick close to those who you can partner with.

Find the faithful people in your endeavours and almost everything else is palatable.

Sometimes it’s not until you fully commit that you see all of what there is to see.

Finally, it took me over 12 months to settle in my present role, being such a big re-adjustment going back to secular employment for the first time in eight years.  There were several reasons I felt like I struggled to fit.  But as soon as I committed, those reasons waned and lost their significance.

I find this to be the case in the present situation: in committing my way earnestly to a thing, in accepting where I’m at, suddenly the barriers are moved out of the way, and that brings a commanding sense of peace.

You too can get your Degree (or three)

I grew up at a time when there was only one way to get to university—through school—or it would take you four times as long through technical and further education.  Not only that, but at the age of 10 I was doing remedial classes in primary school, mainly because I was unmotivated.  Add to that, I grew up in a mining town and most people preferred to do a hands-on apprenticeship and become a tradesperson, as I did.  I did metal trades work until I was nearly 30.

My schooling, apart from mathematics, was pretty average.  I was suited to a trade.  Academics was a thing I’d be motivated to do later in life, and thankfully the system changed.

When I was 30, I was given the opportunity to enter a team leadership development program as an emergency response team leader and safety advisor.  That two-year program in the late 1990s gave me the Diploma I needed to get into my first degree, a Bachelor of Science.  Because I was already working as a professional in my chosen field I was given advanced standing and got my degree after only five semesters of study.

But hear me, it wasn’t easy.  I struggled in learning chemistry initially and thought I’d fail.  I did fail one final occupational hygiene exam and had to sit a supplementary.  I studied a summer semester and averaged seven-hours a day study—on top of full-time work and family responsibilities.  It was a profoundly stressful time, which took its toll.  I studied so hard to be honest, it was one reason my first marriage failed.  (It actually failed the semester I started studying a master’s in environmental law—so I never completed that.)

I got into university at the age of 32 in 2000 and graduated at age 34.  I had nearly a HD average and loved to study.  Friday nights I’d study from 7pm until 2am Saturday morning.  From hating school to loving the university vibe.  Yet, the intensity of university study was absolutely next level.

With my first marriage in tatters and finding that I was called by God into the ministry, I started studying a Master of Divinity in 2005.  It was cut short as a Graduate Diploma degree when I felt God saying it was time to move on with family—I married Sarah in 2007.   For a time, study went on the backburner and I took many shorter courses, focusing on being the principal safety practitioner at the port authority.

It was at the end of that stint, when I found myself in an unpalatable working relationship with a new manager, that I started a counselling degree.  I needed a sea change and studying with a cohort of psychology graduates as a mature-age 40-something was a blast.  Funnily enough, by the time I finished that program I’d moved back into church ministry as a pastor but was also now a counsellor.

This was the opportunity I needed to complete the Master of Divinity, which was another three years full-time equivalent if I wanted to be accredited.  32 units at master’s level is equivalent to at least two masters (MBA etc) degrees.

Overall I’ve spent 10 years of my life heavily invested in university study, and had you told me that when I was 30 I’d have told you that you were dreaming.

The point I’m making, especially to those now in their 30s, 40s, 50s, and 60s and beyond, is it’s never too late to start your university studies.  In fact, your life experience counts more now than ever!

You might not think you’re smart enough.  One thing you learn in university is it’s less about smarts and it’s more about pure hard work and simply the discipline of learning how to research, find information, get efficient, and keeping on moving forward, embracing the challenges, refusing to give up.

You might have been a remedial student like I was.  You may have been told you’ll never set the world on fire like I was.  You may think of yourself as pretty ordinary.

But you know what?  You can still get a degree or three.

Recovering when vulnerable trust has been betrayed

Counsellors like me can at times be conditioned that people avoid disclosure like the plague, but the truth is, in our modern social media age, many people are used to wearing their heart on their sleeve.

It’s happened to just about every single one of us, I’m sure; you open up, you share your essence and vulnerability with someone.  You figure this is the moment, and this is the person.  Then they prove to be anything other than safe, either in the way they respond to us, or in what they do with the information we’ve given them.

Times like this we can’t rewind the clock, we can’t undo our vulnerability, we can’t remove the memory of what we said and how we said it.  And it comes back to bite us.  We feel ashamed for what we should never feel ashamed about.

There are times after this that we close up, having been betrayed in the worst of ways, times that we regretted so much they caused us to trust the world a lot less, and these experiences caused us to become a bit more cynical as if there is nobody we could trust.

Being vulnerable is about the most courageous thing we could do, especially when we’re endured the trauma of someone betraying our trust.  We’ve endured the consequences, and we see the massive potential or actuality of harm and we feel the hurt.

One thing we can do is acknowledge for ourselves—no matter how ill-conceived our trust of the other person seemed to be—we had the right intent; we were courageous; we risked healing, recovery, reconciliation, restoration.  We did the right thing with the wrong people or in the wrong situation or at the wrong time.  We still had the right motive.

We may have gotten some of it wrong, but the instinct to heal was right.

The challenge is to find the right place, the right space, the right person; someone who will never let us down.  There are such persons.  Pray about it and God will lead you.

Being listened to, being understood, not being misinterpreted, finding our voice again.  Take the risk of faith to hope in these again.

The easiest thing to do is to become cynical.  But this type of attitude shuts the door of hope that there are good people around willing to hold space for you.  Let’s understand the cynicism as the fear that protects us from being hurt again.

Yet, cynicism may not permit us to risk trusting again and, therefore, the door of the hope of recovery may be jammed shut.

So we can see that trusting our vulnerability again takes even more courage.

“Be strong and courageous,” and prayers for a safe space, place, and person.

Depressed or grieving and emotionally or spiritually abused

One of the bigger travesties in the emotional and spiritual abuse of those suffering the distress of depression and grief is people adding a burden of guilt and shame to a burden already there.

Yes, that’s right.  Whenever we face depression and grief we enter an emotional and spiritual cyclone where guilt and shame swirl and swarm.  They present as a burden carried for our inability to overcome the tremendously dark and unpredictable emotions and cognitions we encounter.

Then enters the presence of a person or people who add to this burden of guilt and shame through ungracious, unkind, and critical perceptions.  These are horrendously worse when it’s leaders and mentors who offer criticism and condemnation for what is the normal and necessary processing of depression and grief.

To put it another way, those who could provide space and love instead add a further burden through emotional and spiritual abuse from what is usually a superior and untouchable attitude, philosophy, or theology.

I say a burden is added because people suffering depression and grief are already burdened by many emotions and cognitions that confuse and overwhelm them.  Those who would add a burden abuse the vulnerable instead of strengthening them with presence and encouragement.

To feel judged and condemned on top of confusion and overwhelm is worse, but the real issue is most people who are depressed or grieving don’t resist judgement and condemnation because they sadly may already judge and condemn themselves.

So the last thing someone suffering depression and/or grief needs is the added burden of guilt and shame for their incapacity to cope with the challenges of negotiating their daily mental health.

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What someone struggling with depression and/or grief needs is to know and be reminded of the following:

§     their experience of struggling against the torrent of emotion is normal and nothing to be judged or condemned in any way

§     just by surviving, they’re being courageous

§     they’re worthy of support.  Much of the time it’s those who have been through depression and grief who provide that support, just as it’s us who presently endure it who will provide that support to others in future times

§     there’s more value in sitting in what feels ugly than denying reality or insisting upon recovery our own way and in our own timeframe—which never happens, because we can’t modulate the flow of depression and grief to suit ourselves

§     their emotions—the anger, the fear, the anxiety, the sobbing sadness—are all forgivable.  It’s only those who want to justify negative emotions that don’t get a leave pass.  Those who feel contrite feeling guilty and ashamed for their emotions ought to be loved and freed of their guilt and shame.

The way we augment healing in depression and grief is to ride out the rough patches with love, grace, kindness, acceptance, and belief in the recovery process.

Life is about building bridges and crossing them

Life makes no sense in a vacuum, even if there are times when we want or need to shrink back.  There are times to retreat, just as there are times to concede, but the greater purpose of life is to build bridges and cross them—to enter the arena of LIFE.

We know that there are so many people who do the opposite—they burn bridges and refuse to cross bridges that are built toward them.  They live unaccountable lives and who suffers?

Not just those others of us who are impacted by their selfishness, but they themselves suffer wilfully, never caring to make the impact they could to change, when they themselves hold the key.  But they refuse to accept any sense of responsibility and constantly put bridge building and crossing back on everyone else.

Never was there a sadder relationship than one where neither builds nor crosses.

But the person who understands the power of one’s mind to set up one’s life holds the key to both their own contentedness and that of others who depend on them.

Here are practical ways we exhibit bridge building and bridge crossing behaviour in life:

1.         Focus on what can be done, on what can be controlled from what can’t be, and accept it.  No good kicking against the goads.  The goads of life are not impacted by us, yet as we accept that they’re there, we work around, under, over, and through them.  People who can’t or won’t build bridges and cross them keep nonsensically hitting their heads against the brick walls of life.

2.         Devoted to being a ‘cycle breaker’ in our family or life, we do what we can to build bridges of healing and cross them in restoring life to dead and toxic parts of our family line, through our children, and our children’s children.  As we get older, we also recognise that we can only do our best in this area of life, for like in point 1, there are still so many uncontrollable factors and realities in life.

3.         Holding short account, we say our apologies sincerely, knowing that in that alone, when we’re wrong, is freedom.  We observe the freer people in life manage their resentments and deal with the heart of the problem—which is always the problem of the heart.  Maintaining a forgiving and merciful heart, warding against cynicism, is the greatest investment we can make for our emotional and spiritual health.

4.         In not being afraid of calling true things truth, in being committed bridge designers, builders, and crossers, we say what needs to be said—in love.  Those who refuse to engage in bridge building would prefer to gossip about differences than actually sow into truth-telling.

5.         Engaging in designing, creating, building, and crossing bridges takes faith and the passion to bounce back after rejection and abandonment, because engaging in building and crossing bridges is risky business, and there are sure to be many times we’ll be scorched for the goodwill we extend.

Don’t miss the important stuff of life

I was just going through YouTube videos recently and there’s one I uploaded for my youngest daughter’s 18th birthday—she is now in her 24th year.  It’s set to nostalgic music, and there are over 9 minutes of photos that whiz by covering those first 6,575 days.

Again it struck me just how precious life is, how much we take it for granted, and how little we simply reflect on the eternal things.

The eternal things are the human lives in our lives, for once they’re gone, they’re definitely gone.  Anyone who’s experienced loss knows this.  It’s stark for our existential sense.  We never comprehend just how impossible it is to contemplate the finality of loss.

Against the canvas of life, the things we get stressed, anxious and depressed about are so often not about the things that are the ultimate stressors, anxieties, and depressors.

Those people who were in our lives decades ago, who are still in our lives, those family and close friends, none of them are living forever, and those memories we’ve made are absolutely priceless.

Only as I pondered the photographic tribute I mentioned above have I realised just how busy I’ve been and how much of my daughter’s formative years I’ve seem to have forgotten.

Of course I haven’t forgotten at all.  I just prioritised more day-to-day things, as has she, a mother now with a busy loving family.

All this reminded me of was just how much we take the eternal things for granted, and it really doesn’t matter if you’re spiritual or not.  Lose a precious soul and you suddenly get eternity—everyone who’s being honest will tell you it’s utter heartache, and that sense of eternal loss never really leaves you.

If only we woke up each day and devoted some of our day to appreciating the things we cannot keep from the things we cannot lose.  We cannot keep any physical thing, for they’ll all go to others when we’re gone.  Yet, one thing we can never lose is how we feel about a loved one or precious friend, but it is the ultimate loss to lose that person and the ability to express how we feel toward them.  We ought to do that now, while we can.

What happens when we stay in touch with what’s truly important—the way we feel about our loved ones and precious friends?  It gives us back our perspective and it makes us grateful and thankful.  It also protects us from the odious regrets of getting our priorities all wrong through life—when we’ve given precedence to more insignificant issues, and when the loved one or precious friend is finally gone.

There is a state of readiness for whatever might take place—i.e., loss.

That is, if we look back continually from the vantage point of where we’ll be sooner or later—from death, other people’s or our own.  From such a viewpoint, we sort out our priorities and from such a stage true wisdom is borne.

Think about how we all age and change throughout life.  We’re all in such flux and it seems so hard to believe life was how it was as we reminisce over it 5, 10, 15, 20 years later.  But it happened!  And, gee, every single day of each of our developing years was important.

Too easily we’re swayed by petty frustrations, insignificant grievances, selfish conflicts, and too easily we lose the true context of our lives.  Instead, today we have the opportunity to say to those loved ones, “I love you,” and “this is what you mean to me.”  It’s about saving important energy for important things. Don’t miss it.

With many things in this life our second chances ultimately run out.  Let’s not put temporary things ahead of eternal things.

Imagine if we lived from the context of eternity.  We’d all live vastly different lives, and we’d put far more loving emphasis on our relationships.