The power of honesty

Whilst I was off sick the deadline came for my community newsletter article. It was work but I decided to do it – 200 words in which I was open about my depression and discussed how common it was but little mentioned. I sent it off with the usual service dates etc and rolled back under my duvet.  It came out at the start of February and I have had the greatest response ever to a piece I have written.  I had worried if it was a bit self-indulgent, but at the village coffee morning today I had several conversations with people about themselves or family experiences, others have phoned me to thank me for what I had written. When one person is willing to speak it gives others permission to talk if they need to.

And I have benefited from similar honesty at a meeting of a group of ministers this week, discussing stresses, loneliness, spiritual struggles (as well as the joys).  The opening devotions started with a list of the official criteria for being a minister and how wonderful we must be to tick all those boxes, followed by a clip from the first series of Rev where Adam is ready to lose it in frustration at the job. Being real is part of the chaos of life, and each of us has our own variation of stresses, mine don’t look so bad in comparison – or at least they are familiar and I am used to their quirks.

So all in all I feel affirmed in my wobbliness – we all wobble in our own way and this is mine. And I feel loved and cared for by the people I know and work with.  Nothing is technically different about any of these things today compared to last time I wrote but today I have been very aware of the good stuff, and enjoying that.  Days like today are the life jacket for when the waves crash over and to be savoured.

Days that change the world...

That was the focus of my sermon yesterday on the 10th anniversary of 9/11 alongside lectionary readings of the crossing of the red sea, and the Gospel passage on forgiveness. Before discussing the nature of forgiveness not being a denial of anger or of justice, and maybe needing a lifetime to work on I thought about the days that change our world.

There are moments that are such hinges that our lives divide into before and after, when things will never be the same again. Sometimes that happens on a world scale such as 9/11, when whatever we may think of the political decisions that followed we cannot deny that great shift from before to after. But more often it happens within our local world, our personal world - when it is turned upside down.  I quoted from the Radio 4 Book of the Week slot which had different authors responding to 9/11, Thursday's was entitled Prepositions and opened with 'Your husband died in 9/11; my husband died on 9/11'. It highlighted that lives changed that day for other reasons too, as they do every day.

Prepositions

On the evening of 11 Sept 2011 I came home to facebook news of the death of Rev Dr Angela Shier-Jones. She was a significant voice in Methodist theology, a deep thinker, and always a friendly face. But for me she was one of our local preachers in my home circuit when I was growing up, and I remember her going to Bristol to train as a minister. Searching the web this morning for more information to pass back to my family about the news I found the blog she began when diagnosed with incurable cancer a year ago.  In its heading she wrote -

Suffering Grace

Discovering that I have incurable cancer shattered my world. It showed me that at the most pivotal moments in our lives the Church fails us by being afraid to speak of God’s grace in pain and suffering and death. I am not. This is an unashamed, unafraid narrative of the work of God's grace in my life. It is not an apology for my suffering, or a religious excuse for my pain and death, it is my story of the joyous redemption of all that is needed to be fully human.

http://sufferinggrace.blogspot.com/

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This spoke so much to my own desire that we are able to be honest in church life about the painful stuff, the angry stuff, the 'why me' and the 'why them'. When we can be honest about the pain then we can begin to look in it and through it to glimpse God's grace.

My school English teacher used to criticise us for using the word 'nice' - it wasn't a proper word she said, it doesn't have a true meaning, it is an excuse for not deciding what to say. And 'niceness' invades so much of our church life, a mixture of British politeness and a worry perhaps that honesty with all its rawness might somehow offend God, or if not certainly scare our neighbour in the pew.

So in memory of all whose lives are turned upside down (don't think that leaves anyone out!) lets stop being nice and start being real.

Rest well in his arms Angela.

Honesty about depression

I had the privilege that comes with this job whereby this week I was invited to speak to a group in the next town about my life and faith. Naturally this cannot be done without the story of my depression, and the other lumps and bumps in my life.

There is such power in naming the often un-nameable, it asserts that depression is just the same as any other illness we suffer, that it happens to people of faith as much as anyone else.

After the talk one person came up and said that I had described their life, parallels with depression. It is amazing to be able to have such conversations.

In a couple of weeks time there will be the first session of a group I am establishing based at one of my churches 'living with depression'.  I don't know how many will come but it seemed important to offer that place of support, in reality it is about setting up what I would have valued in my darker moments and still feel to be important now. A place to be honest about the chaos and pain, and even the lighter moments - with others who 'get it' and instead of boring family and friends yet again.

Okay so not everyone wants to air their souls in front of others, and mostly the rest of us are glad about that, but there are two needs - a) that everyone has a place to air it if they need to - be it close to home or far away and anonymous; b) that some of us bare all to show others they are not alone, and to help the unaffected understand.

I feel called to be part of both of these, and have the privelege of a role that allows that to happen.

A wobbly church...

So this morning I did it.

I had been wrestling for weeks about how to respond to one of my churches who appear to be suffering from a kind of group depression. Today the set reading (Matt 11 16-19, 25-30) opened the door for honesty about our weariness and burdens.

This congregation has declined significantly over the past couple of years - partly from deaths, partly from moving out of the area - whilst those that are left are feeling their age more. All of my churches are small and in small communities, this one is in a town of just 3-4000 and an area that has higher than average levels of over 60's in the population.

The congregation as a group shows the symptoms of depression - no energy or motivation, feelings of helplessness and hopelessness about the situation, constant sadness and negative emotions.  All this despite new opportunities for mission and recent experience of God's provison over a property issue.  'We played the flute for you and you did not dance'. Classic depression, a lowness so intense that the light cannot be grasped or understood.

From my own experience I know that 'cheer up look at all the good stuff' is meaningless at that stage, yet often that is what we are encouraged to do as leaders and preachers - talk up God and try to get them focussed on a project etc.  But to be honest about where they are at takes a different approach, one that gives permission to air their feelings as a church.

And so I found myself standing there sermonless, just talking about the griefs we have faced, acknowledging practical issues like finance but stating that the greater concern is our congregational mood, our depression, and that the first stage is to name it and to talk honestly about our dreams and fears. I didn't pretend to have answers, but did say I believed in the possibilities. I said that for now it was enough to say it is tough and that is the beginning of our journey.

My wobbles shaped my response, and gave an authenticity to my talking - was it the right thing to do? It's not in the books, but after weeks of wrestling I felt I should.  And so I did. What now? I have no idea, but open to God.