RefuJesus-The Commentary

There's an old saying, if at first you don't succeed... I put it to the test today at Broadmoor Presbyterian Church in Shreveport. The sermon I preached today, "RefuJesus" is a version 2.0. I preached it three years ago at First-Marshall after having learned several lessons. Let me tell you what I learned and what I changed.

This time, I was certain to tell the congregation in no uncertain terms that this concept, the refugee status of Jesus and the Holy Family in Egypt was new to me too. At least twice I said this was new, different, and not the most orthodox way of looking at the flight to Egypt. I also mentioned it was still biblical.

By the way, as a version 2.0 I was not being dishonest saying this was new because the first time it was new and it did freak me out as much as it did and should freak out anybody who read this for the first time. I was sharing my honest first impressions.

The reader and listener will also notice that when I gave my version of the Nativity/Wise Man/First Part of Today's Reading, I used some emotionally charged language. I did this because I wanted people to react to the word of God and how it would look if it were happening today. I wanted us to be uncomfortable.

And that's why I used the Fosdick quote: "The purpose of the gospel is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable."

In short, I don't think the purpose of the gospel is to always make us feel better about ourselves. But I do believe that it should always make us know that our hope is in the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ. It's not in our stuff. It's not in our skill. It's in our Lord.

That's the purpose behind sharing the Isaiah quote. Isaiah was sharing a reflection of God's mercy remembered while foreshadowing the work of Christ to come. How great is that?

In the end, there seemed to be two reactions. Those who said it was nice to have me back and those who said they really, really loved the sermon. I must admit, when a pastor lays it all out, and in my opinion that sermon is a one not everyone is ready (or maybe even willing?) to hear (can I refer you back to the congregation that heard a lesser version?).

But then again, Preaching and Worship professors constantly reminded us that the pulpit should always be approached with fear and trepidation. Yet, it should always be approached in the confidence of Christ.

There is no better tightrope in the world. Thanks to the good people of Broadmoor Presbyterian for walking it with me this morning. Thank you and God bless.

The Vanilla Accent

A long time ago I heard that telemarketers often headquartered in Omaha because compared to the rest of America people in Omaha had a vanilla accent, or rather a plain speaking voice, no accent at all. Forgive me for saying after trying to get my AT&T DSL hooked up with Reggie in Bangalore three years ago that I wished companies stayed with vanilla.

The New York Times Opinion Page published an interactive quiz called "How Y’all, Youse and You Guys Talk. What does the way you speak say about where you’re from?" This is the link to my accent map. It shows my accent is most like Omaha, Lincoln, and Des Moines. My accent is least like New York City, which ironically is where my father was born and raised. If you have 10 minutes it's good fun.

Millstones and Milestones

The reason I call this blog "There's a Fat Man in the Bath Tub with the Blues" is because it's the title of one of my favorite songs by Little Feat. I love the version you will find on the right side of the screen. I love the version on the live album (sorry, album, old school) "Waiting for Columbus" too. But let's face it, it's also sort of an anthem for fat guys everywhere.

Now here's some good news! I have lost 100 pounds. Yes, I'm still a Fat Man, but the blues are on the run--and it's a good feeling. Today for the first time in a couple of months I did my full mile-and-a-half circuit walk and did it at 3 mph! It's not like long ago when I walked the Bolder Boulder, but it's a part of a good start.

I joked that my weight loss regimen has been poverty, mental illness and exercise. Well, we're still broke and I'm still looking for work here in Marshall and around the country. I'm coping with my illness well right now and taking the steps to make sure that continues, and I am getting good exercise. It's getting better.

I still have a ways to go, but I know I am on the path. I have passed some milestones and dropped some millstones and it feels good. New Year's resolutions? Not for me. It's time to make real change take a hold. Thanks be to God!

On a side note, Pastor Paul recommends Sports Tracker for Android to track distance and pace. It allows you choose your workout--walk, run, cycling, hiking, mountain hiking, roller skating, downhill skiing, Nordic skiing, paddling, rowing, or golf. You can pick your own activity where in many applications you have to download one for walking and one for running and one for so on and so forth.

Merry Christmas All Y'all

You know, I'll say something about being in recovery with being Bipolar, I'm much cheerier. Marie just told me that it's the Cheerios I'm eating. I must admit, it's better than all of the depression I've been spewing.

So here's something for Marie. She hates it when I call her "baby," but what about when The Boss does it?



This is the day that we celebrate the day of the birth of our Savior. This is the day we welcome Emmanuel, God with us. This is the day the physical presence of God came into our world in the least powerful way of any being, a baby. God's presence can come in any way, but God chose to come powerless, from the womb of a virgin, in a cave in what we call a manger. Danger surrounded him. His being was anything but secure. And He is God. In this moment, the greatest story ever told begins. So Merry Christmas one and all.

So now to the world let me say God bless, and may the coming year be a joyful and glorious year for all of us.

Faith and Mental Health

Earlier this week I met with my spiritual director. He said that he read my mental health blog. I asked him what he thought of it. He asked why there was not mention of God. I was struck dumb. It took a moment to come up with the answer "That blog was a clinical approach to my illness and hospitalization." It was quickly followed by, "Now I need to write the spiritual side."

Here's the single most important thing I went into the hospital knowing. I have hope in the Lord our God. Eight words, that's what I got. Let me elaborate.

I had been unemployed for over ten months, and stretched five months of severance over six and a half months. I didn't know how we were going to pay for our insurance, and money literally arrived on the porch. We got kicked out of where we were living, and another place opened up.

Was I thankful for God? Yes I was. Every day. At the same time I was so miserable I couldn't add one and one without consulting an accountant.

Marie was sick some days and on other days not quite so sick. In the meantime she did everything she could to keep me from falling apart and moving forward--pack boxes, prepare my Pastor Information Form, revise my resume, go to the store, yada, yada, yada.

Was I thankful for her. Yes I was. Every day. Did I show it? Certainly not well. I showed annoyance pretty well though. (Did I mention I was sick? Depression is insidious. I didn't know how big of a jerk being bipolar made me, only she does.)

If there's any good news; the self medication I gave up twenty-some years ago stayed in my bag of tricks not to come out.

My world crumbled around me and the only ideas I had were really, really bad ones. I was able by the grace of God to hold on until I got to my counselor's office. She got me into the hospital in Shreveport.

Now, if you have ever been in counseling for depression, you have probably heard this question: "Do you feel helpless and hopeless?" I've heard that question a million times, and I finally heard it properly and finally answered it aloud in the most accurate way for me.

I said, "I feel helpless. But I don't feel hopeless. In my faith I have hope. I have hope in the Lord my God."

How many times have I read David's Psalms of Lament? How many times have I read about the plight of Joseph? How many times have I read the Exodus story (and how many times has that story been adopted as a model for oppressed people all over the world)? How is there anything but hope in the cross and the resurrection?

Now, that my head is clear, I see that hope far more clearly too. I see now that hope is meant for me. I see that it is present in my life. I can even more clearly see those who are willing to help... those with whom God has blessed me in this life.

It's funny to say what I have now is a new life in Christ, but it truly is. Like everyone else I have had ups and downs, some of those downs pretty deep. Like anyone else who has depression my downs have real depth. In each of those times I have thanked God for saving me, for bringing me back. This time though it's different. I thought I had been broken before but I have never known brokenness like this. Oh, I thought I had, but it wasn't even even close.

Now, about two months later, the healing has begun. To date I feel great, literally never better. I have never been more clear. For that I thank God. In my fresh clarity I thank God for Marie, I thank God for all of the clinical help I have received. I truly thank God for all of our friends. We have gotten help, in financial, housing, other tangible, and especially prayer support from our friends from coast to coast. It's not that there are too many to list, but many have given anonymously and I honor that. Just know I will not forget.

Yes, some days will be better than others. Yes, I will have to be aware about how my meds are working because they may not always. I don't want to be unrealistic. At the same time I don't want to look under every rock for a rattlesnake just because I saw it happen once. I just have to pay attention to the sound of the rattle as I walk the path of life.

That is why I have hope in the Lord our God. Saved by the life and work, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, indwelled by the Holy Spirit. By the grace of God I say Amen

Mental Health

A funny thing happened last month. Actually, it wasn't so funny. It was pretty scary. Life caught up with me. Life caught up with me and I didn't know what to do next. Actually that wasn't quite true... I had a "good idea" of what to do next, but having taken a class in crisis counseling I knew what I was thinking wasn't a "good idea."

I guess there had been signs of depression going on for a long time. I had found several different ways to deal with it over the years. I could go on for several paragraphs and describe the dozens of ways I have practiced self-therapy and self-medicating over the years. I even met with reasonable success. Reasonable being the key word. But last month the whole thing came tumbling down.

In November I became totally and wholly nonfunctional. I told my counselor what was happening and she told me it was time for me to go to the hospital. I was in no position to disagree. I guessed the depression had finally gotten such a hold on me that I had to do something right before I did something wrong.

Saying yes to help wasn't easy, I probably should have said something months earlier but didn't. But when I finally did say yes, it was the best thing I ever did.

To make a long story short, my diagnosis changed. My diagnosis is no longer simple depression. I am now diagnosed as Bipolar II. In short, that means that I have depression, sometimes serious bouts of depression (this helps explain some of my blog posts, especially the "Lies My Father/Mother Told Me" series) with hypomania. Hypomania is a version of mania which is not euphoric mania but a version that shows up as strangely energetic, talkative, assertive, creative, and productive behavior. Sometimes hypomania can also lead to questionable behavior... like some of my more dubious jokes.

I share this for a several reasons. The first is this, I am healing. That's the most wonderful thing I can say. I am on the way to feeling the best I have felt in my life. Therapy and medication are doing wonders. The second is that this is a process. Like everyone else on earth I will have good days and bad days. And now I have better tools to deal with them than I had even three months ago. This will also make me a better Pastor one day too. I have seen what the bottom looks like.

I also want to say thanks to my family and friends who took care of Marie and me while I was in the hospital and while I have been unemployed. You have been a joy to us.

Finally, I want to share because I want you to be aware. You know someone who is Bipolar. Fear Not! Or at least don't fear me. I'm not going to snap and bite your head off. I'm not going to go postal. I may not be just like everybody else, but there is one thing I know, I'm still me. I'm Paul. I'm the fat man in the bathtub. And I'm glad you came to my blog.

Enjoy.

The Presbyterian Food Stamp Challenge

The Presbyterian Church (USA) recently did a food stamp challenge (view Outlook link here) to show how difficult it is to feed a family using the SNAP program's dietary guidelines. I commend everyone of the 300 Presbyterians who signed up to see how the other half lives. Unfortunately, they really didn't get a full view of how the other half lives, not from someone on this side of the poverty line.

You see, as you know, I am an ordained minister (Teaching Elder, whatever) in the Presbyterian Church (USA). The congregation I served chose to quit meeting together at the end of January this year. While I received a generous severance package, all things come to an end. To an end they came at the end of June. I was able to stretch the cash part of the severance out for a while longer, but the insurance ended promptly on June 30, 2013. That $711.25 has been coming out of my pocket ever since.

On a side note, the reason we kept this insurance is that we did not want to start our deductibles and copays over again. That would not have been cost effective.

As I was unable to secure any employment in my small East Texas town so I relied on God's generous blessings. Through friends, churches, and the SNAP program my wife and I were able to keep our heads above water. We are housed. Our car was paid off one month after I lost my job and some rather pricey repairs were covered--as was car insurance. Monthly expenses like gas and phone, because you gotta have a phone if you're looking for work, were covered for a while by several churches where I preached as pulpit supply, a real blessing.

Then it happened, our SNAP benefits were around $340 per month for two adults, one with special dietary needs. When it came time to reapply our benefits were cut, they were cut to $15 per month. Not by $15 per month but to $15 per month. This wasn't because of any political posturing as both my Republican and Democratic friends were so quick to point out.

The reason our benefits were cut were because I reported we got help and I reported I spent it on health insurance. You see, the State of Texas, the state of my residence, believes I should be spending my money on food and not on health.

So I have looked for jobs in the church, sending Pastor Information Forms to over 160 congregations where God has not called me. I have sent applications to banks, colleges, restaurants, tutoring services, pawn shops, and more places than I can remember. I finally have an interview and God willing will have incoming income soon.

You have been patient with me but now I imagine you would like me to come to the point. Years ago I worked in a Student Support Services TRIO program serving low income students. I thought this gave me a better idea of what it was like to be poor in America and I wasn't really wrong. Then I became a seminary student and a pastor in two different very small rural churches. While the blessings are wonderful they aren't monetary, I got a better idea of what living in poverty looked like. My wife's health began to deteriorate and she has been unable to work for five years--between loss of income and increase of medical expenses we are getting a real first hand view of poverty.

The point of my story is that nobody who took The Presbyterian Food Stamp Challenge unknowingly choose between health insurance and food stamps. Who would ever make that choice knowingly. Who would have ever thought that would be a forced choice.

In the end we're not that far from sleeping in the car. Only the Grace of God and the help of good friends has kept us out of it so far. So thanks to anyone who has spared us a room. Thanks to everyone who has sent us a check--and some of you have been quite generous. Blessings to all who have prayed for us because we have had some very rough patches too. And thanks to the 300 of you who tried to see how the other half lived. God bless us all.