The Zoloft is MIA and the DS is Right Where It Should Be

Ewps. I missed a dose of Zoloft last night. I am sure the effect this has had on me is more mental in nature than it is physical. Upon seeing my pile of medication on the counter, still waiting to be consumed, I had a nice panic. What a way to start a Sunday morning! My pharmacy tech training told me that I should skip this dose and go back to my regular schedule this evening. My heart was pounding and my head was telling me that I would never make it through the Divine Service like this. My only completely clear thought on this was to take an Adavan. That ought to settle me down enough to make it through the morning. Granted, that stuff makes me tired and a little out of it, but it won't knock me out and it will allow me to appear "there" for anyone who didn't know about my internal turmoil.

While the medication was taking effect, I told Tim that I wasn't sure exactly how this was going to affect me in service. I wasn't sure if I would be completely with it to participate fully. I can't remember I took an Adavan and then went to church. He sounded a little concerned and asked me how I thought I would do. I joked and told him that I wouldn't be shouting "Amen" in the middle of the sermon or anything, but I was afraid of getting lost or not knowing what to do next because this stuff does slow down my thinking a bit. Thank the Lord, that was not the case! In fact, I was *there* probably more than I was through many church services. I didn't care that I was a pastor's wife and someone might be judging me for something. The words, chanting, and even hymns I knew by heart (Reformation Sunday is great for that- A Mighty Fortress is also a great comfort in times of anxiety!) I didn't fall behind, get lost, or forget something. I was there. I could also just receive. I wasn't a zombie though the service, though I was tired. I didn't just stiffly and unawares go through the motions. I did hear the words coming out of me second nature, Scripture flowing from my lips in unison with the church here on earth getting a small taste of what it must be like in heaven. The validity of the Sacrament of the Altar was not on how pious I tried to make myself before receiving, there it was: Christ's Body and Blood in with and under the bread and wine, given and shed for me, in the midst of anxiety muffled by medication. My anxiety, a sin against the First Commandment, was forgiven by my pastor in the stead of Christ. I came to church in the midst of an anxiety attack with nothing to give. I could only receive. Receive I did. It was good.

Trust and Doubt

"When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me?" Psalm 56:3

Boy, I wish I could live up to this. I worry about everything, from the clothes that I wear to the food that I eat, to the weight I need to loose. I trust, or I try to, but I falter. I can feel myself slipping away from that trust that I should have not that long after I say, "I trust you, God. Whatever you do is fine with me." I begin to think, "Well, what if this happens, then I'll have to deal with that." Or, "What if God thinks I can handle something that I know I'll fail at!" Soon, the snowball effect makes me go from mistrust to worry, worry to anxiety, and anxiety to depression and even more severe anxiety. Then comes the guilt that I didn't trust as I should followed by the anxiety that maybe I really don't have faith because I don't trust like the Bible says I should. The saddest thing is, this is a regular problem for me. I cannot count the number of times something simple has turned into a crisis of faith. It shouldn't, but then again, I shouldn't have anxiety either, so I guess I am even more in trouble.

It is usually then that I am reminded that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8) Christ died for my sin of not trusting Him (a First Commandment sin). There is more than that, though, because I am clothed in Christ in my Baptism. Not only does Christ's death cover my sin of not trusting, Christ trusts for me because I cannot. I can try. I can do my best. I can work to catch up to my holiness, but this side of the grave, I will not be able to do it fully. If I did, it would be against the First Commandment and I am back where I started.

So what can I do? Nothing? Not quite. The answer to what my "job" is lies in the First Article of the Apostle's Creed.

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth.

What does this mean?

I believe that God has made me and all creatures. He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my limbs, my reason and all my senses, and still preserves them. In addition, He has given me clothing and shoes, meat and drink, house and home, wife and children, fields, cattle, and all my goods. He provides me richly and daily with all that I need to support this body and life. He protects me from all danger and guards and preserves me from all evil. he does this all out of purely divine goodness and mercy without any merit or worthiness in me. For all this I ought to thank Him, praise Him, serve Him, and obey Him. This is most certainly true.

And when I fail that part, Christ covers that, too, praise be to God! Mortal man cannot take away all the gifts that God has given me, including the gift of forgiveness when I sin and not trust as I should. The Psalmist is right. There is nothing to be afraid of. Now, if I could just convince my heart what I know in my head... or perhaps leave that to the Holy Spirit. ;)

A Tough Day

There are many days in my week where my job is absolutely amazing and I go home feeling happy and satisfied. Friday was not one of those days. It wasn't the kids, however, they were amazing. Unfortunately, it was my co-workers (thankfully not my co-teacher!). Don't ask me what happened, I won't go into it. Mostly, because that is not where this story lies.

The story is actually about power. The power to affect change. This is normally seen as a good thing. We are told at every graduation speech that we have the power to affect change and we should do so. This is definitely true but it has to be in the right context. Power has to be given before it can be wielded. Power does come in many forms. The kind I am referring to is the kind that affects people's opinions and the reputation of other people. The Bible has very specific words for it. We know it as the 8th Commandment.

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. What does this mean? We should fear and love God so that we may not deceitfully belie, betray, slander, or defame our neighbor, but defend him, think and speak well of him, and put the best construction on everything.

The ugly monster of gossip reared it's ugly head at my workplace. It's such a damaging monster wrapped in pretty packaging. It's covered with the phrases such as, "I am just speaking the truth," or "I am only telling you what I saw." Such a cover! With these words horrid damage is done. But when is it okay to talk about another person? When does it go from gossip to correcting the errors seen?

Just because you know the truth, doesn't mean you have the right to spread it around. Is this an error that should be brought to the authorities? Then do so if it is. If it is not, think of what you would have your neighbor do if your roles were reversed. Would you like everyone to know your slights and sins? (Matthew 7:12)

Think on these words for a moment from Martin Luther about the 8th Commandment:

"When they know about a slight offense committed by another person, they carry it into every corner. They are delighted and tickled to stir up others' displeasure, just as swine delight to roll themselves in the dirt and root in it with the snout. This is nothing other than meddling with God's judgment and office and pronouncing sentence and punishment iwth the most severe verdict." (Large Catechism 267)

Perhaps after looking to Luther's Large Catechism, it is better not to say anything except to those who judge by vocation the righteness of the actions you have witnessed. Such vocations are given to the bosses, law enforcement officials, lawmakers, etc. This is not an exclusive list, but the idea comes across clear. If this vocation you have been given by God does not include the responsibility of judging and dolling out punishment, it is better to keep quiet about those sins you witness unless it becomes a Fourth Commandment responsibility.

God forgive me where I have failed to do this and help me to catch up to my holiness given to me by Christ on the cross for the forgiveness of my sins.

Learning to Love Jesus

The Sunday activities have come and gone for this week. I have gone to the Divine Service, Bible study, even partook of the ever needful coffee hour without feeling too uncomfortable about being in my own skin. This morning, there was a helicopter crash not to far away from our pastor's house. The family in the house was saved, but the passengers in the chopper were killed. What a tragic way to begin a Sunday, I thought to myself. I wasn't the only one. Another member asked Pastor during Bible class, "I know that there is sin in the world which is the cause of the horrible things that happen, but why does God allow it in the first place?"

When I ask Tim this, sometimes I get a long answer. One that causes me to think deeply but I usually arrive at the same place that he does in the end through his gentle guiding. Pastor wasn't so kind. His response: "So you can learn to love Jesus." Honestly, (sorry, Pastor, if you are reading this!) I had a hard time listening to the rest of the response as he explained this. My first thought was, "What type of a God do we have that makes us struggle and bleed and hurt to make us love Him? Surely Pastor couldn't have meant that!" What about my anxiety disorder? The one that causes me to doubt Him so severely it makes me tremble with panic; the one that causes me to doubt my own salvation- can that be the cross I bear that causes me to love Him more? My fears make me feel like I love Him less than others because I can't simply trust him unwavering like the Bible states!

Writing this blog has caused me to speak more boldly about my disorder in the context of church. I asked very point blankly how God could use my disorder to cause me to love him more, when the fears and doubts don't just annoy me, at times they consume me. Pastor guided me (yes, I paid more attention this time) to remember something that I had either forgotten or never learned completely. All to often, Christians forget their relationship to God. It's more like, "Let's Make a Deal". "Well, God, I know I have messed up and stuff, but if you will just save me, I promise I'll do better." Figuring that we have to give something to get something, we try to barter our way into God's good graces. The bartering also has our best interest at heart. What is the minimum we can do that will allow us to be in God's graces and still allow us to retain some dignity? After all, we don't want to come out as beggars.

That is all I am, though. A beggar. If I ever try to forget that, my anxiety disorder will bring it to the front of my mind. I can just hear the thoughts now. "Do better, you said? Yeah. That pet sin right there, if you were going to do better, it wouldn't be an issue. Look at you! In that muck again! Yeah, see if God will save you now after that. You thought you were really smart making that deal. You couldn't hold up your end of the bargain if your life depended on it. Oh, wait, it does! Game over, you're damned."

I got nothing to offer God. I can't stop sinning, no matter how much I want to. I've tried. I failed. It was not a pretty sight. Even if I did have something to offer God, it would be worthless. The moment I offered it to God, I'd be putting myself before God, which then breaks the First Commandment, and there I go again, not upholding my end of the bargain. Game over.

In the midst of a panic attack or even an anxiety attack, when I just cannot calm down, I have this cute little pill. It's maybe a millimeter across. Swallowing that will calm me down in twenty to thirty minutes. How interesting that it takes something outside of myself to calm me down. In the middle of the attack, I can do nothing. Sometimes I cannot even get my own medication! I become a beggar. Looking to my husband to give me what I need, something outside of myself has to swoop down to my rescue. I have got nothing to offer.

In the muck of my sin, there is nothing that I can do to make me holy. In the fullness of time, Christ died on the cross for me for the forgiveness of my sins. When there was nothing I could do, Christ came down and did it for me. I look to Christ for what I need and He provides it; the Body and Blood in, with, and under the bread and wine, the washing and rebirth in my Baptism back in June of 1980, the forgiveness of sins through my pastor speaking the words of Absolution. These aren't things I do! These are things that are outside of myself being given to me just like those times when I need the medication for my anxiety.

I guess Pastor was right. God gave me personally a picture of how Christ moves to save His creation in my disorder- tailor made for me while I bear the cross given to me in this veil of tears that points me back to Word and Sacrament. My disorder helps me learn to love Jesus even more.

Pastors Bleed, Too

All too often parishioners see pastors as nothing less than a Superman in a chasuble. They are supposed to be able to deal with anything, handle anything, and remain calm in any situation. With almost a childlike innocence, they are to deal with the problems of their world with gentleness, dignity, and never ending patience. A crisis counselor on demand, the pastor is too often seen as the calm in the storm that walks away untouched by the encounter.

But is this really realistic? Hardly! Not even Christ our Lord could walk the road of this life untouched by what He experienced. When Lazarus died, Jesus wept. When the money changers were in the Temple, Jesus chased them out. That speaks of emotion and reaction to situations that ruin too many people's image of Jesus as the young benevolent "sugar daddy", ready to fill our every felt need. Jesus saw our sin, took on the consequences in His own body for our sake, bled, and died. That is a far cry from being untouched.

Your pastor is a far cry from being Christ. He is a sinner. He lies, puts false gods in front of the One True God, curses, covets, and is subject to every sin that is found in his parishioners. But, like you, he is forgiven because of the saving work of Christ on the cross. A slave to the Gospel, despite his failings and yours, the reason why he has the image of a Superman is that he puts the cross first in the midst of a crisis. This is a great example for us as we should be doing the same in our lives.

However, the pastor doesn't go home after staying by the deathbed of a parishioner, sip a cup of coffee, and think to himself, "I wonder if it will be a pleasant day tomorrow" with no regard for what he has just been through. Death caused Christ to weep and it causes pastors to weep, too. Life can do things to them, too. Depression, anxiety, physical ailments, even spiritual anguish are not foreign to pastors. This is why pastors need pastors! By building each other up in the faith, your pastor is ready to take on what is going on in your congregational life as well as can be expected. But, they will make mistakes. Pastors can bleed, too.

So what then? Since your pastor is not perfect can you just get rid of him? Nope! Not any more than you can get rid of your parents, spouse, or children because they are imperfect. Forgive them, love them, and help them. Mirror the love they showed you in your crisis. Mirror what Christ has done for you- forgive them and move on. Just like you, they are doing the best that they can, and they deserve your honor and respect.

Should be updating this more...

I have been on a steady diet of Word and Sacrament through the Divine Service, Bible study, and Issues, Etc. that I have theological thoughts flowing freely in my head, and seem to have nothing to say on this blog. Don't ask me why, I have learned plenty in the last month especially, but it's as if it is more internally churning and being mulled over in my brain and is not ready to be put into words, yet. Perhaps that doesn't make sense, I'm not sure it does to me, but I will tell you what I do know about it.

God is the Giver of good gifts. It's not just one or two sparsely here and there. It is abundant, perhaps even overwhelming, as God points us to Himself. God gives us all we need to support this body and life in the form of food, clothing, family, government, and the like. He gives us not just general "standard issue" gifts either, but things tailor made for us, knowing just what we need at any given time. God also gives us the gifts of salvation. There was nothing we could do to save ourselves, and seeing our deadly plight, God swoops down and plucks us from death's hand by the death of Christ on the cross. "Paid in full" is on our bill of debt for sin, written in the blood of the Lamb. Christ died and rose again for me- for you. That's a life raft in the midst of a hungry drowning sea of sin and death, piloted by the One who calms the storm, Jesus Christ.

Little Bit of Life

A new mother was recently found guilty of placing her newborn in a microwave and cooking him to death. The average person finds this appalling! A cute and sweet little baby had his life snuffed out by a horrid and awful death at the hands of his own mother. The mother could get the death penalty in her sentencing. She has been demonized as a terrible wicked woman who would put her own child to death by such a gruesome and heartless way.

However, those who cut a baby's head open and suck out its brains with a vacuum sweeper seem to be heroes of civil rights. Those who participate in these murders are paid for offering their services of death that is not much more humane than putting an infant in the microwave. The difference? One is being cared for outside of the womb, the other is being cared for inside of the womb. It is amazing that one death can be considered heinous enough for the death penalty and one considered medical care.

While looking online for religious art to complete my "What is a Lutheran" bulletin board at work, I stumbled upon a site ran by RCC monks. What I didn't know was that they were pro-life monks who saw to the burial of the murdered unborn and worked to educate the public on what the unborn look like when aborted the way medical science has accepted as reasonable. I won't post any links on here. All you have to do is google aborted fetus on images if you feel so inclined. Tiny hands and feet are evident. There is a head, eyes, nose, mouth- even facial expressions!

If a one month old infant has all this and the infant's murder means the death penalty for those responsible, why is the baby in the womb any different?