Another New Day

Today marks a new beginning for this blog and for me. There was a time, a decade or so back when I wrote and posted daily. Though I always wanted to work through the writing of a book, I found better success writing a little each morning about something that caught my attention the day before. Like a cat chasing a laser pointer, I bounced from one end of the room to another as I thought about an apple I picked that day or a interaction with a cashier while buying groceries. You (and I) never knew what you were going to get.

When I stepped into the role of a senior pastor, I lost momentum on this part of my life. I found that creative part of my mind was getting swamped by the day to day challenges, emotions, and needs this role presented. Nine years have gone by far faster than I could have imagined, with very little writing done, let alone movement toward a book.

Of course I did do a lot of writing. Close to fifty sermons a year and an additional fifty mid-week email devotionals to the congregation isn’t nothing. But it was focused and specific to the direction and calling where I now serve instead of following that laser pointer of life into the unexpected. Occasionally, as you can see if you browse back from this point, there were moments. A post here and there. Maybe a short streak. In the end, these are almost more frustrating for me than nothing, a reminder that I have never recaptured the consistency I wish I had.

There’s the bigger issue. Consistency. Through my childhood, college, in relationships, work, ministry, and in my current role as a senior pastor, I am frustrated by my own lack of consistency. I usually know what needs to be done, though often I don’t notice needs, but either way it’s like there’s no spark to start the engine. For 48 years, I’ve wrestled with this aspect of myself quietly. Trying to hide my own sense of failure. Failure of my own expectations and the expectations of others. I have felt very much like Paul in Romans 7.

For I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my flesh. For the desire to do what is good is with me, but there is no ability to do it. For I do not do the good that I want to do, but I practice the evil that I do not want to do. (Rom 7:18-19 CSB)

I have been so thankful for the way Paul ends that paragraph. After crying out for rescue, he calls out the source of deliverance.

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! (Romans 7:25a)

And how wonderful that grace has been! But all the same, I longed to be, think, and act different than I did. No matter how many books I read, at best the advice was a patch that never seemed to hold up to long term application. I wonder how many of you have felt something like this. Maybe not the same struggle, but the confusion and fear of a struggle that seemed beyond repair.

A few months back, light started to shine on the problem. Like any time light shines in dark places, it is revealing, scary, and hopeful at the same time. I don’t remember what the first clue was, but something prompted me to start doing research and asking questions about ADHD. At first this confused me. Surely that would have been noticed when I was a kid, right? I was never (rarely) hyper-active. But as I pushed in, the evidence started to mount. As I read (listened) through a book (audiobook) on the subject, the author told a story that was so intensely relatable that I stopped in my tracks. It’s a story for another time, but it involved a phone and a microwave in an untenable situation.

I called a friend who was also diagnosed later in life. I told them the story I read, then the story I lived, and asked them: “Does that sound like…?” I don’t remember all the conversation, but their response amounted mostly to, “Duh”.

More research, then finally a call to my doctor. I shared what I was recognizing and he started asking me very specific questions. His response: also “Duh”. I have an appointment next week to meet a specialist for a formal diagnosis, but it seems at this point like a foregone conclusion.

Part of me didn’t want to go farther. There is a voice in my head that tells me that it doesn’t really matter. That by talking about it, I’ll probably be misunderstood or sound over-dramatic (I can be that). And that voice came close to having me quit seeking help when that light first started shining in that darkness.

But right now I’m preaching through the gospel of Matthew. Just this past Sunday I covered a passage that hit me back then and I’m reminded of it now.

Now when he heard this, he said, “It is not those who are well who need a doctor, but those who are sick. (Matthew 9:12 CSB)

This connects straight back to the opening line of the Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” The blessing of knowing you have need, is that you can ask for help. The pharisees who argued against the company Jesus was keeping missed the chance to be healed, because they were sure it was the tax collectors in the house that were sick, not them. Those who know they need grace are in a much better place to receive it.

I have the chance to get the help I need. Maybe through new tools for life management, maybe through better knowledge and support, or maybe through medication. The temptation to keep the problem hidden or ignored is strong, but as I continue to count the cost to myself and those around me, I simply don’t want to ignore the gift of help God has placed in my reach.

So a new beginning. I’m still learning about myself, but I start now with a better picture of why consistency has been so hard. I’m going to try different things. I’m going to lean into what works. Not going to try to force topics, but do what works best and let today write tomorrow’s story as it comes. And maybe as I follow the shiny objects from one place to the other, there will be some things you find helpful too.