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Monday evening, I stopped by an auto parts store to buy a new receiver for my truck. On Friday, I’ll tow the band trailer for Jackson’s marching band to their away football game. I expected the receiver and hitch ball mount would come together but, alas, they were separate. The nut to screw on the receiver was huge! I realized that I didn’t have the tool I needed to put the ball mount on myself. I asked about a wrench to put the ball mount on the receiver and the helpful store employee pulled out the largest adjustable wrench I’d ever seen. He graciously installed the ball mount on the receiver and I left the store, ready to tow the band trailer.
For me, it was metaphorical because of a recent journey of wrestling I’ve had. On a Wednesday in mid-July, I drove home by the usual route. There, in the pocket park at the corner of Georgia Avenue and College Streets, I witnessed a horrific scene of domestic violence. I called the police and returned home, shaken.
The next day, I woke up with terrible anxiety. After a week of living with this anxiety, I knew I had a problem. Through friends and the support of mental health professionals, I came to understand what was happening to me. In short, anxiety is a natural reaction to secondary trauma, defined as witnessing something traumatic that doesn’t directly involve you. This sent me on a personal journey of wrestling with the anxiety. It was like peeling the proverbial onion, with layers upon layers presenting themselves.
As they did, and as I wrestled and struggled, I leaned into my self-care habits. I journaled my prayers. I extended my period of sabbath rest. I made more time for sleep and exercise. I limited my work. I went to Green Bough. Sometimes the anxiety was overwhelming, but because I’d formed these habits during good times, I could lean into them to find my way.
I also reached out to my support system: my S3 group, close friends, a counselor, church staff, and of course Dana. It’s tempting, in the dark, to try and walk the journey alone. I think that’s especially true for mental health concerns. It took courage, but I chose to not walk alone.
And I came to church. I know it’s expected a pastor would say this, but the power of the presence of worship and church in my life came through for me not as a pastor, but as a human in need of God. Worship was healing for me each Sunday during my bout of anxiety. There was one Sunday in particular that I woke up so introverted and tired from the struggle, the last thing I wanted to do was lead worship. Of course, I came and did so and that Sunday proved remarkably powerful for me. Regular attendance prior to this period of anxiety had trained my soul to encounter God through our worship.
Self-care, a community of support, and church were the tools I needed to wrestle and find my way to the blessing I talked about in my August 13 sermon. These were tools I didn’t know I needed until I needed them, just like that wrench.
I hope that you have a well-worn habit of self-care. A friend the other day said to me that self-care gives us the tools we don’t know we need until a crisis comes and we suddenly need them. Her comment made that wrench into a powerful metaphor of self-care. This is why we need to take care of ourselves, to set proper boundaries for work, to invest ourselves in relationships that are dear, and to make a regular habit of being in church. Like eating vegetables or exercising, it may feel unnecessary and even burdensome at times, but when crisis comes, as it does for us all from time to time, our self-care habits, support network, and church attendance are the tools we need to keep wrestling and find our way through.
It’s easy to let habits slip but, here when I needed them most, habits of self-care and church came through for me in powerful ways. Whatever your habits, keep going! If you need help establishing new habits, finding new rhythms, reach out to me or Payton or a trusted advisor in your life. And if you find yourself in the dark today, I hope that you’ll reach out for help. I can recommend counselors and others who may be able to help. Don’t walk that journey alone.
Finally, I am experiencing blessing just as I preached this past Sunday. God is doing things in me that I know will reverberate across my calling vocationally and my understanding of what it means to be human. What was a deep and dark struggle now shines with the light of love, one that will have an indelible impact. God is good, there is hope, whenever we walk through the darkness and endure periods of wrestling.
So please take care of yourself, engage regularly in these habits, and build the tools for when crisis comes.
— Ted
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