Naked Leadership and Coaching for God

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Have you ever had a dream where you show up in school naked or realize you are talking to a crowd wearing no pants? 

Embarrassment dreams like those are exactly how I often felt early in my career as a pastor. Not that I ever forgot to wear clothes to work, but whenever I had someone ask me a difficult question I didn't have an answer for, I felt naked. "Where is God when...?" "Why would God...?" "Why won't God answer my prayer?" 

I wanted to have a simple, logical answer for them. I'd love to have nice proverbs like, "God never gives us more than we can handle," but I've lived enough to know that they aren't always true AND simple phrases like that are rarely what people need to hear when they are asking tough questions. Yet, I'd try to string together something that sounded logical and smart and pray it was helpful somehow. Because I hate not having a answer. I'm an introvert that often thinks through every possible angle to a problem before I speak or act because I want to be prepared for every possibility, every question, every problem. That way, I'm never wrong and never surprised. 

Still, I felt naked, like a fraud. After all, wasn't I the expert? Wasn't it my job to have the answers to everyone's question? What good was my Master's degree if I didn't feel like I'd mastered anything?

In turn, it created a vicious cycle with my depression and anxiety, because it made me certain everyone was disappointed in me and I was worthless, which drove me to build my facade even stronger. 

Eventually, two things happened. First, I got to a point of desperation where I said, "God, I can't do this anymore! I can't solve every problem and I don't know how to be right all the time!" And God's response was, "Now you get it. Would you stop trying to be a savior, get out of the way, and let me do MY job?"

Second was a piece of wisdom I found in a weekly newsletter I received: "Leaders don't need the right answers. They need the right questions." 

I'd been trained to think of pastors as the "experts." Just like going to a doctor who diagnoses the problem and prescribes a remedy, I first saw my job as doling out spiritual prescriptions and wisdom. The problem was that I didn't always know how to treat the problem or it was chronic and needed more than a couple "God-pills."  

Instead, I slowly came to see pastoring as more like a personal trainer or a coach. I didn't need to have the answers, that was God's job. I needed to help people recognize what spiritual health looked like, where to find it, and guide them in ways that enabled them to hear God's answers. I have more experience and a deeper pool of resources, but that's not the same as an answer. 

I've had to be okay with not being the expert in the old sense, but a fellow traveller who knows what questions to ask. Now it feels less like I'm naked and more like I'm honest. God doesn't call us to be perfect, just faithful. 

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“To wrestle the angel for more than a name” -Switchfoot, “Twenty-four”

 

Let's End Suicide

(Note: I first wrote this on my facebook page.)

I've never watched Anthony Bourdain.

Until last week, I'd never heard of Kate Spade.

But I learned I have at least one thing in common with them. I have known the dark night of the soul where voices in my head have been speaking the mantra that I'm a failure and my life isn't worth continuing. There have been times my depression and anxiety were so overwhelming that stepping into nothingness has sounded like a relief. 

I thank God that in those moments I heard another voice. I thank God that I found a therapist, a psychiatrist, and a medication that have stabilized my condition so that I'm fine 99% of the time and no longer have suicidal thoughts. And today I grieve with God that Anthony and Kate and roughly 100 Americans per day did not.

Since I found a way to manage my mental health condition, I've made one of my life's goals to #endthestigma around mental health issues so that more people might find the help they need and those who don't have mental health issues can better ally with loved ones who do.

As this article suggests, the first step is recognizing this is a disease. Just as a diabetic can't will their body to create insulin or a cancer patient can't focus on the positive to heal their cancer, I cannot will my brain into balancing my serotonin levels. 

When I get the flu, people don't tell me to "get over it." They wisely suggest I sleep, see a doctor, drink fluids, etc.  When I have an episode of depression or anxiety, I have a "mental flu" and I need to care for the "infection" just as I would the flu. 

So, if you want to help someone who lives with a mental health issue, here's what I find helpful: 

-Listen without judging or trying to fix things. Unless you're a doctor, you can't fix cancer and you can't fix depression, so don't try. Just listen, empathize, and assure the person you love that you care and they aren't alone. Words like, "That sounds really tough" can feel inadequate, but go a long way to building a healthy connection.

-Tell the person it's okay to care for themselves. It isn't selfish to go to the ER when you have a broken arm and it isn't selfish to treat a mental health episode...but it sure feels that way when you're having one. Letting someone know the world won't fall apart and they will still be loved if they take time to care for themselves is important.

-Ask for guidance in helping. What you think may be helpful might not be to someone in crisis, so ask what is and don't minimize it if it seems small. Something like emptying the dishwasher for me can be a release valve that makes bigger things manageable.

-Check in regularly. When appropriate for the individual relationship, ask how they're doing and don't be afraid to name the disease. I have one friend who's very good at asking, "How's your anxiety been doing?" It helps because I know he cares and it makes it feel normal.

If you live with depression, anxiety, bi-polar, or other mental health issues, YOU ARE NOT ALONE and YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF. There are millions of us who live with, struggle with, and manage a mental health issue. If you don't already, please take steps to care for yourself. 

That may include a therapist or a medication and there's no shame or weakness it that. 

It should definitely include some loving friends who know your struggle and can support you in ways that are helpful to you. I'm happy to be one of them.

And if you ever find yourself listening to the voices that say life isn't worth continuing, then find another voice. Remember MY voice telling you this: "That other voice is lying to you!" If you are religious, remember God's voice saying, "You are my beloved child. I want to create life where things seem dead." Find a voice on the National Suicide Hotline at 988. But find help. Now. 

Your life matters to me and to more people than you realize.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“Even if we can’t find heaven, I’ll walk through hell with you.” -Rachel Platten, “Stand By You”

Addressing Mental Health in the Church

A friend shared this article from the Washington Post on facebook a few months ago and I've found myself thinking a lot about it ever since. In the essay, Charlotte Donlon writes about living with bipolar disorder, her faith, and her frustration that the church rarely addresses mental illness in meaningful ways, if at all. For me the essay cuts me in a couple different ways.

First, as a pastor, I read how the author's pastor dismisses her mental anguish in conversation and unintentionally shames her in a sermon and I cringe. I cringe because on days where I feel like less than a superhero, that's what I worry I'm doing. I am in near constant fear that I will say something that shames or hurts someone without me meaning to or that I just won't have the right words to say to help. I've learned in my ministry that there are many times where the only true answer is "I don't know." But when someone comes to me with a difficult question looking for some kind of help or hope, it rarely feels like that level of theological honesty is the right answer. Chronic illness, serious childhood diseases, and sudden deaths are all things that make me want to scream "Why God?" with everyone else.

At the same time, I resonate strongly with Donlon's essay because it's my own story, too. I've lived with depression for my entire adult life and shortly before I first read this essay, I was also diagnosed with a generalized anxiety disorder. I have more family members and friends that live with mental health issues than I can count on one hand and I know they are not uncommon in the faith communities that I've served. And yet, there is still a stigma around mental health.

Many churches do awesome work around feeding programs, addiction recovery, poverty assistance, and even healthcare, but it's interesting to me how almost all those programs are directed externally. Meanwhile, internally, few churches in my experience foster an environment that normalizes things like mental health, divorce, addiction, autism, and other issues that are, in fact, normal for most people. Instead, many of us put on masks and pretend to be what we think is "normal" and think we're the only ones faking it.

I don't have any answers for fixing this, certainly not on a grand scale, but I am a big fan of Brené Brown's work that says risking vulnerability and honesty is the root of joy and wholeheartedness and I know Jesus said "the truth will set you free" (John 8:32). So I hope that being vulnerable and honest about my own struggles with mental health might start to normalize it for others.

So...

I have anxiety and depression. I'm medicated for it now and it's helped me a lot. Most of the time I'm fine, but like arthritis or diabetes, it can flare up at times and I can't function at 100% when it does. I'm not ashamed about living with anxiety and depression. In fact, sometimes I think of them as my super powers because I know they are closely connected to my drive to be my best and my creativity.

And I know I'm not alone. And if you're like me, then neither are you.

I pray this is something we can talk about more and I pray that the gift of God's grace gives us the confidence to make being normal... well...
normal.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

P.S. If you struggle with depression or think about hurting yourself, please get some professional help. If you can't, have a friend help you. Take it from me: things can get better.


“There’s one more thing I want to say: Our brains are sick, but that’s okay.” -twenty one pilots, “Fake You Out”