I Sought My Soul

Biblia Luna #81

Welcome to Issue #81 of Biblia Luna, the (approximately) weekly newsletter about the intersection of mental illness and faith, written by a pastor who lives with depression. I put the holy back in melancholy! If you find this newsletter helpful or interesting, please consider sharing it with someone else (or on social media). It might help them too. And it will help me grow my audience, and reach more people. Thank you!

Hopefully Tomorrow: Am I the GOAT?

The gospel reading for next Sunday includes these two verses:

Then they came to Capernaum, and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. (Mark 9:33-34, New Revised Standard Version)

“They” here refers to the twelve apostles. But it’s funny…I can picture a slightly different version of this story involving not a group of twelve, but just one person – me.  

I can imagine myself and Jesus walking through Galilee, toward Capernaum. Or maybe we’re walking through my own town. Jesus knocks on my door, let’s say, and says, “Wanna go for a walk?” I reply, “Sure.” I get my sneakers on, and off we go. We walk for a while, not talking, just walking silently. Perhaps Jesus is listening to the birds, the breeze, the still small voice of his Father, who knows. But as we walk, I am listening to the voices inside my own head.

And they are loud today. I am hearing a voice saying, “Jesus chose to walk with you. It must be because you are something really special. Jesus knows that you’re an incredible writer, an outstanding pastor, and just a darned good person.” And I hear a voice say, “Jesus didn’t choose you for that. He chose you because you are his weakest link. His worst follower. The most hypocritical and worthless person ever to get baptized. You’re a charity case for him.” I hear a voice say, “You are nothing but a poser, a fraud, a charlatan. Just a sad sack who brings people down and brings shame upon Christianity.” I hear a voice say, “You are actually an amazing and faithful disciple. You honestly speak about your mental health struggles, and make a difference to people who struggle with similar things. You are brave and loyal.” I hear a voice say, “You’re nothing.” I hear a voice say, “You’re great.”

When Jesus and I return to the house, he asks me, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But I am silent, for on the way I had argued with myself who was the greatest.

Oh, who needs friends when you’ve got voices in your head, am I right? I wish I could say this was an exaggeration to make my point, but really, all the voices I quoted above are real. I have heard those things echoing in my head over and over again for so many years. Ever since I was a child, I’ve gone back and forth between thinking I was the smartest and greatest person on earth, and the biggest and most worthless hypocrite. I find it very hard to think of myself as anything in the middle. I’m always at the extreme. And so I argue about whether I’m great or not.

I’m not sure if we’re all like this, or if this is a manifestation of my depression. But I know that it’s so tiring, and so destructive. I think, though, that Jesus’ next words to the disciples might be helpful to me, and perhaps others in this situation as well:

He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them, and taking it in his arms he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

There’s an old proverb that goes something like this: “I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my God, but my God eluded me. I sought my brother, and I found all three.” That’s the message I hear Jesus saying here, at least to me. I hear Jesus saying, “Stop arguing with yourself. Stop trying to judge and figure yourself out. Be a servant. Take care of someone. Like, say, this child. Get out of your head and help someone.”

And I think maybe it does help. It’s not that by doing so you solve the riddle of whether you’re good or bad, great or worthless. It’s that by doing so you step out of the riddle, un-ask the question, and just live. And by deliberately, mindfully doing something to help another person, you --- it’s funny, I keep wanting to finish that sentence with something like “you become a good person” or “you then become great.” But no, that’s not the point. That sentence just ends with the word “you” trailing off with an ellipsis…

…because by doing so you just get out of that eternal infernal internal dialogue, and out into God’s world, the place where there is no need to be great. God’s world is a place to simply be. And simply being means helping others.

I think.

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An Old Poem

Someone training to be a pastor usually needs to complete a unit of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE). This is often a three-month full-time intensive experience, where you are placed as a student chaplain in a clinical setting (often a hospital or similar place), and where you also receive some very intense small group work and scrutiny with a supervisor and your peers in the program. When I did my CPE at Penn Foundation, a mental health and recovery center in Bucks County, I deliberately brought my own mental health “stuff” into it, and tried to work on myself even as I ministered to others.

In a way, my work at Penn Foundation, as it was intrinsically related both to my inner calling to be a pastor and my inner struggles with depression, was the first iteration of Biblia Luna.

Anyway, the proverb I quoted above reminded me of something I wrote in my final self-evaluation for CPE. It was this poem:

“I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see.
I sought my God, but my God eluded me.
I sought my brother and I found all three.”
But that never worked, never quite worked for me.

For when I looked at my brother, I always saw my own eyes
Obsessed with their lenses, their transparent disguise
I tried to ignore them; I told myself lies
I thought avoiding myself was exceedingly wise

For the way I was seeking was wrong from the start
I was using my brain, but rarely my heart
I see now that compassion is no science, but art
It’s about keeping awake, not about being smart.

I’ve explored who I am, I’ve explored what I feel
I’ve experienced a grace that has forced me to kneel
I’m still not quite sure if I can explain what is real
But exploring with another can help us both heal

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This week’s question

I’d really like to grow a conversation from this newsletter. So please consider leaving a comment with your answers to the questions I pose each week. This week’s question is:

What’s something you wish your “inner voice” would stop saying?

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Biblia Blessing

The God of all consolation bless us in every way, grant us hope all the days of our life, restore us to health and grant us salvation, fill our heart with peace, and lead us to eternal life. Almighty God bless us, the Father, the + Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.