Like all ministers, I have my strengths and my
weaknesses. To have a knowledge of both is necessary for a pastor. For many
people, what I do is important. Very important. Eternally important. That can be
a bit of an ego trip. It may also lead to the crazy idea that my life and work
is more serious and important than someone else’s. That’s not true, and it is a
dangerous way to think.
My life, my theology, my practice of devotion,
my best days and my worst days are all a part of me. How they affect others is
always on my mind. That’s the necessary burden of this calling. And yet, I must
show grace first to myself. Otherwise I will be unable to show grace to others.
In my case, I believe I know my two most
serious pastoral shortcomings.
First, I have a tendency to disappear. You look
around, and I’m gone. I came out of my shell on Sunday morning, smiling and
shaking hands. I seemed genuine because I was genuine. I preached, I sang, I
shook hands, I loved on the children. And when it was over, I disappeared. Who
knows where the pastor went?
That in itself isn’t so bad, but I’m apt to
disappear at almost any time. Having dealt with my depression and anxiety
attacks over the last 18 months, I now know that when I start to lose control of
my feelings, I become frantic in my attempts to disconnect from what causes me
anxiety. Writing, reading, movies, and solitary manual labor are the things that
take away my anxiety and depression. They are my drugs of choice. And they are
things that have to be done alone.
I tend to do things at the church when nobody
else is around. I’m like the little elven cobblers from the fairy story. You
come to church and the chairs are in place. There is a sermon, printed
materials, and sometimes a table is set for communion. Then I emerge from my
office, smiling. I’m on.
Once a woman in the church said, “You remind me
of a little hermit crab. If anyone makes a sudden move, you dart back into your
shell.”
She’s right. Sometimes I think maybe being a
pastor really IS that important, and I think that I have failed miserably, and I
begin thinking crazy thoughts. The anxiety is a salty tang on the edge of the
depression. It keeps me jumping. Sometimes the best I can do is flinch and force
myself to stay engaged, but I’m often looking for a new shell, a place to be
alone.
Occasionally I become so anxious and
overwhelmed that I collapse in on myself, like a dying star. When that happens,
I MUST be alone. It is no longer an option. I fear those times greatly.
Medication has greatly lessened them for me. It’s rare now that I fall apart
inside.
The end result of this is that I am a pastor
who will probably never seek you out. If anyone asks for me, I pop out of my
shell and give myself away. I listen hard. I am good listener. I will engage you
and be all yours for a time. But you will have to ask for me. I will probably
not ask for you.
My second great weakness is organization. I am
the world’s worst administrator. I have terrible trouble with calendars anyway,
and I loathe organizational tasks. They tend to depress me and fill me with
anxiety. And you know what happens then. (See #1 above)
I remember when our elders started paying a
very organized woman to help with the administration. One of them helped me work
out a plan for keeping her supplied with tasks and duties. It all sounded good
until I left his office. Then I had no idea what to do.
I’m not organized enough, apparently, to tell
an administrative assistant what to do.
I began to be afraid of her. I would see her
coming and think, “Oh shit, I should have some things written down for Helen to
do.” Then my mind would go blank. Finally we stopped paying Helen to help me.
Bless her heart; I imagine she was very frustrated working with me. Currently,
things somehow run on their own at our church. Seriously, it’s a miracle, but we
exist. We thrive even. A bunch of people show up at this church with a crazy
dreamer for a pastor, and somehow we get the bills paid and do what we need to
do. Year after year.
I administrate like an alcoholic. One day at a
time. What’s happening right now? How am I needed right now? As a result I’m
always facing deadlines and running around trying to fix stuff at the last
minute.
I’m not proud of that. I try hard to do better.
But seriously, this is Gordon Atkinson. Most of
his life he has dealt with his anxiety and depression secretly, all by himself.
He has some odd coping skills. If you are looking for someone with the right
words to be very present with you in the right moment, he is your man. This man
loves the present moment and lives there in a way that is impossible for many
people. But I doubt he’ll be able to plan for that moment. And when that moment
comes, you’ll probably have to go looking for him.
It's dealing with what went before and
organizing what will come after each moment that give him trouble. One out of
three ain't so good, but there it is.
rlp
