A Taste of My Own Pastoral Medicine

As I write this blog post I’m traveling on a plane heading to 37,000 feet and living in fear. I wonder when I will become dizzy, experience vertigo, pass out, lose my breakfast, or if my head is going to explode. Gross, I know. I have never been a woozy air traveler, but everything just changed.

After waking up one morning last week with maddening ringing in my head and unable to hear in one ear, I found myself sitting in a doctor’s office. “Well, we don’t know what you have but we have some good ideas. We need to run some more tests. Until then, I would not recommend loud places or air travel.” My doctor said.

Gulp. “I have to fly next week and I’m leaving the country the week after that.” I said. The doctor rolled his eyes and asked, “Do you have to fly?”

As I sat and listened to the extended directions on medications, tests, dangers of flying, and theories into sensory hearing loss from my physician, I could not help but think of the sermon I just preached to my congregation:

“On this Pentecost Sunday, where the Holy Spirit came among those Jews gathered from all around the known world, it was a disruptive event. Religiously, God was disrupting the appointed order of Judaism and this guy Peter is telling these Jews to believe in Jesus. What a game changer!”

I went on to admonish my congregation on how when there are life disruptions by disorder, illness, death, change in routine, or adversity it is an opportunity for growth, reflection, and ministry. Acts 2 demonstrates that God can change what we know about ourselves, religion, or spirituality. Disruptions in life are hidden changes for God to work.

My own disruption of hearing loss and pain leaves me scared, worried, and fearful of some greater disease of disorder lurking. My head is pounding. I cannot think or focus on simple tasks. It is causing problems, tension, and affecting me and family. I hate it. This was the worse time for this to happen for a laundry list of reasons, but I’ll  spare those.

Clearly, I am grappling with my own disruption.

As a spiritual physician of souls, I am charged with shepherding people through life change, spiritual growth, and communicating God’s word (some would add administering the sacraments too). As someone who proclaims to others to have faith in God, I am losing faith. Not my faith in God, but losing faith in my own Pentecost sermon.

I taste my own pastoral medicine and I do not like it.

Where is the good in this hearing loss, pain, and game changer? Where is God? Miraculously healing? Maybe. Will I regain full hearing? Hopefully. Will I always have this problem? God I hope not! What is so good about this disruption? It sucks and it is making me anxious. More than I can handle. Mentally and physically, I am on overload. I can manage a high level of stress, but this is the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Henri Nouwen once wrote that pastors and care givers are wounded healers. We all have issues, but through the grace of God we are given gifts to minister to others despite our flaws. We all have the capacity for pain and healing. As a minister, I lay out a spiritual healing plan for others despite his “woundedness”. I counsel, pray with, and encourage my congregants.

How does the wounded healer obtain his healing?

My healing may not be in a thing, a self-help book, or a liturgical prayer, but something of a practical nature. I have to let some things go. I am often too ambitious and too anxious. I want great things for my wife, family, friends, community, church, and myself. I pursue many things. There always has to be something new. Something fresh. Something to keep me going. High achievement, both personal and in ministry, is a glorious pursuit but may prove to be a painful cancer that spreads.

So as I sit here on this plane writing this post and my descent to my destination begins. The change in air pressure did not make my head explode. However, I realize that all the talk in seminary about pastoral self-care is not just about taking all your vacation or “time with family”, but about realizing limits. Physicians, both spiritual and medical, cannot heal or improve everything. My passion for a greater future for my family, church, and myself sometimes has to be just a passion for what is happening now. And that has to be enough.

Yes, doctor I am taking my pills. You are doing your job well. All that schooling and training is aimed at healing my body. Now, I have to take my own pastoral medicine. It is not a pill. It is complex mix of changes. I may not like it but it has to be done. I swallow. Gulp. [Begin making changes here].

It is disruptive but it is what will keep me healthy.