The other day, someone I used to work with (and I greatly admire) posted the following on her social media page, "Y'all ever miss co-workers from past jobs? I've met some really good people over the years." And it got me to thinking, "I really have worked with some of the best people in my life." So many times these women and men have seen me through some tough times. They've celebrated the birth of my girls, they've laughed at my lame jokes, and they've listened to me vent about all the things life throws my way.
I've come to understand that as time drifts by, co-workers come and go. One thing that Covid did that was totally unexpected on my part was to force us to re-evaluate who we are and what we want out of life. That self-reflection took three people from the Aldersgate staff and moved them in a new direction. As much work as hiring new people can be, it also gives me an opportunity to meet new people. These new people bring a fresh outlook on the ministry we do, they bring excitement to our team, and they bring themselves into my life.
So today I celebrate my co-workers. Each one of them challenges me in their own way. Each one gives me a perspective on ministry and on life that I wouldn't have without them. And each one brings to the table so many gifts and graces for ministry that fills the gap. I love these people not for what they do, what they give, or even for how they help me. I love each one of them just for being who they are.
For the last several years I've been dealing with anxiety. I really can't pinpoint exactly when if first showed up. But I do know I first began dealing with it while I was in seminary. Several things worried me. I had a family to take care of, I wanted to do well in school, I wanted to learn as much as possible, I didn't want to let down my local church, I missed my family back in Texas, and the list just goes on and on. At that time, I just dealt with it. I kept telling myself that all I had to do was get through school and then everything would be ok. But it didn't work out that way.
After I graduated and received my first church, I couldn't have asked for a better place to start out in ministry. So many of the people there accepted me and my family. They loved us, cared for us, and invited us into their lives. But for some reason, the anxiety that I felt continued to build. I pushed myself to preach better sermons, come up with new ideas, and do better than the best I could do in order to make my people proud of having me as their pastor. After three great years, we moved from that church to another in a different state. I again hoped that with a fresh start, the anxiety would melt away. And once again, it just stuck around like a bad dream.
So I countered the anxiety by pouring myself into that church. I did everything I could think of to keep my mind and body busy. I started new ministries, conducted a capital campaign, worked hard to renovate an aging structure, merged churches, established relationships, and loved the people. And when the anxiety continued to build, I ignored it and tried to improve myself by going back to school. In the midst of all of that, the anxiety was kept at bay, mainly because I kept myself so busy that I could ignore it. After five years of ministry at that place, I was homesick enough that I knew I needed to return to Texas. By the grace of God, I was brought to a church that genuinely seems to fit me and my family. I can't explain why, but we just all seem to fit together. So you would think at this point I would be able to tell you that the anxious feelings I have ignored would now be dissipating. But no. They are still here.
I didn't realize how bad it was getting until Covid hit back in March. I don't know exactly why, but since then it has been much worse than before. I don't know if it was the downtime of shutdowns and non-pressing schedules, or if it is because of the uncertainty of what church will look like post-Covid, or it's because my denomination is facing an ever more likely split, but over the last several months the anxiety has continued to build.
There are days that it seems absolutely unbearable. Today was one of those days. I have heart palpitations, I feel nervous, I get sharp pains that suddenly appear, and my mind has a hard time remaining focused. My therapist has taught me a breathing exercise that helps calm me down to a reasonable level. But I know that it's just a matter of time until it builds again and I will have to start all over with my focused breathing. I don't like to live this way, but I also know that there's not a magic pill I can swallow that will erase this problem.
At the end of days like today, I am relieved that the darkness of night has flooded across the land. I am relieved that it's almost time for bed. I'm grateful that I have a wife who holds my hand. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps the anxiety will be less. Perhaps it will be overwhelming. But regardless of what tomorrow brings, I'm going to do my best to remember the goodness of God. After all Jesus is my only hope. And while that sounds silly to some people, it's all I've got. And the reality is that for me, clinging to the truth that Jesus is my only hope makes my anxiety at least bearable one more time.
