1 Kings 19:1-18

Last May I had the privilege of participating in a Zoom conference resource day with Leonard Sweet as the guest speaker.  I first encountered Len when I was still a pastor in South Carolina, many years ago, and he came to speak to our pastor’s retreat.  He is a dynamic speaker, a prolific writer, a former professor at Drew University, and has an incredibly creative mind.  Len talked about what a hard time it is to be a pastor in this pandemic world, where everyone has PTSD, and quoted from the hymn “A Charge to Keep I Have,” “to serve this present age, our calling to fulfill.”

Len understands that part of our calling as clergy is to be healthcare professionals.  He bases that on the fact that when Jesus walked this earth, he did three things:  he preached, he taught, and he healed.  His church is, therefore, in the health business, and clergy are called to heal mind and soul and body.  Our role is just as important as any other healthcare professional.  We are to mend the brokenhearted and to help restore people to what they were intended to be.  As pastors, we don’t run away when there is hurting and a crisis; we run toward the hurting and the crisis. 

That was exactly my feeling when COVID first hit, that I should have been on the frontlines, right along with the doctors and nurses and EMTs.  I feel that clergy could have been extremely helpful in sitting with dying patients, freeing up nursing staff to do medical things.  We are trained for that; they are not.  So everything that Len had to say that day really resonated with me.

And it also made me recall a program that I did years ago for a cancer support group in my hometown.  I had become good friends with the nurse in charge of the chemo unit where my mom went for treatment, and she asked if I could put together something for her cancer support group.  And so I decided on the topic of Biblical models of self-care.  There are examples in scripture of ways that we can take care of ourselves when we are going through stressful, difficult times.  Even times when it would seem that the whole world has PTSD.

Do you think I’m being overly dramatic in saying that the world has PTSD?  Well, I consulted the Mayo Clinic’s website to find out more about PTSD, and I am more convinced that ever that most, if not all, of us are probably experiencing some of the symptoms as we enter our third year of the pandemic.  They list four basic categories of symptoms. 

First, there are intrusive memories.  These might include recurrent, unwanted, distressing memories of the traumatic event; reliving the traumatic event as if it were happening again; upsetting dreams or nightmares about the event; or severe emotional or physical reactions to something that reminds you of the event.

Second, there is avoidance.  That means trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event; and avoiding places, activities, or people that remind you of the event.

Third, there are negative changes in thinking and mood.  Those include having negative thoughts about yourself, other people, or the world; feeling hopeless about the future; memory problems; difficulty maintaining close relationships; feeling detached from family and friends; lack of interest in activities you once enjoyed; difficulty experiencing positive emotions; and feeling emotionally numb.

And fourth, changes in physical and emotional reactions.  This might include being easily startled or frightened; always being on guard for danger; self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much or driving too fast; having trouble sleeping; having trouble concentrating; irritability, angry outbursts or aggressive behavior; or overwhelming guilt or shame.

I won’t ask you to raise you hand if you have experienced any of these symptoms over the past two years.  But I will say that things are much more complicated by the fact that we are not reacting to one event in time, such as 9/11 or December 7, 1941.  We are still experiencing the trauma, nearly two years in. 

The prophet Elijah experienced PTSD and his immediate response was to run for his life and practice major avoidance.  He had been quite victorious in a show-down with the prophets of Baal, and all of them had been put to death.  But when word got back to Queen Jezebel, who was a Baal-worshiper, she promised to do the same to Elijah.  So he took off into the desert, laid down under a tree, and wished he were dead.  An angel of God came and provided him with food and water, and then Elijah traveled for 40 days and 40 nights until he came to Mount Horeb, the mountain of God.  And he went into a cave and fell asleep.

The next day, God confronted Elijah.  “What are you doing here?” God asked.  Elijah responded by telling about how unfaithful the Israelites had been and how they had broken down the altars and even killed all the other prophets, and now he himself was the only one left and they were trying to kill him too.  God’s response to that was to tell Elijah to watch carefully, because God was about to pass by.  In other words, God was going to reveal himself to Elijah.  And God revealed himself, not in a great and powerful wind, not in an earthquake or in fire, but in a gentle whisper.  And then God asked Elijah a second time, “Why are you here?”  And Elijah gave God the same answer.

God then gave Elijah a mission.  Go back the way he came.  Anoint Hazael to be king over Aram, and anoint Jehu to be king over Israel, and anoint Elisha to succeed him as prophet.  Oh, and by the way, God said:  There are still 7,000 people in Israel who are faithful to me; you’re not the only one.

For Elijah, dealing with his PTSD meant finding strength in his faith and also facing the real facts of the matter; he was not the last one who was faithful to God, there were others.  And God still had work for him to do, important work.  And God provided for his immediate needs, with food and water and sleep.

As I look through scripture, I find many examples of ways that we can take good care of ourselves as we deal with PTSD.  But one thing that seems especially clear is that we need to express our emotions, not hold them in.  And we can be honest as we do that.

One way to express our emotions is through prayer.  We might think that the Biblical characters always prayed respectful, dignified, calm prayers.  And yet, that is not the case.  Sometimes they prayed as if they were shaking their fists at God, demanding an answer.  Other times they prayed as if they were weeping.  For example, listen to the words of Job:

Only grant me these two things, O God, and then I will not hide from you: Withdraw your hand far from me, and stop frightening me with your terrors.  Then summon me and I will answer, or let me speak, and you reply.  How many wrongs have I committed?  Show me my offense and my sin.  Why do you hide your face and consider me your enemy? 

Or how about these words from Jeremiah, the weeping prophet?

O my Comforter in sorrow, my heart is faint within me.  Listen to the cry of my people from a land far away … Since my people are crushed, I am crushed; I mourn, and horror grips me.  Is there no balm in Gilead?  Is there no physician there?  When then is there no healing for the wound of my people?  Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears!  I would weep day and night for the slain of my people.

Sometimes, if I find it hard to pray, I pray the Psalms or prayers written by other people.  I have recently been using a book of prayers by Walter Brueggemann during my morning reflection time.  One of my favorite prayers is called “Even on such a day,” and was written on September 11, 2001 while reading Isaiah 1:

We prattle about your sovereignty … especially we Calvinists;

all about all things working together for good,
all about your watchful care and your severe mercies.

And then we are drawn up short;

by terror that strikes us, in our privilege, as insane;
by violence that shatters our illusions of well-being;
by death that reminds us of our at-risk mortality;
by smoke and fire that have the recurring smell of ovens.

We are bewildered, undone, frightened, and then intrude the cadences of these old poets: 

the cadences of fidelity and righteousness;
the sounds of justice and judgment;
the images of Sodom and Gomorrah;
the imperatives of widows and orphans.

Even on such a day we are not minded to yield on your sovereignty.  We are, we confess, sobered, put off, placed in dread, that you are lord as well as friend, that you are hidden as well as visible, that you are silent as well as reassuring.  You are our God.  That is enough for us … but just barely.  We pray in the name of the wounded flesh of Jesus.   Amen.

Another example that scripture gives us for taking care of ourselves and being honest in expressing our emotions is through creative writing.  The entire book of Psalms gives us words of joy, words of pain, words of confession, words of fear, words of anger, words of passion, words of love, words of judgment.  Listen to these examples:

From Psalm 140:  Let the heads of those who surround me be covered with the trouble their lips have caused.  Let burning coals fall upon them; may they be thrown into the fire, into miry pits, never to rise. 

From Psalm 51:  Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion, blot out my transgressions.  Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.  For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me … Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me … Restore to me the joy of your salvation …

From Psalm 121:  I lift up my eyes to the hills – where does my help come from?  My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.  He will not let your foot slip – he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. 

If you aren’t sure about your talents at creative writing, try re-writing a Psalm in your own words; write a paraphrase.  That is essentially what the Bible version called The Message is; it is a paraphrase by Eugene Peterson.  For example, think of Psalm 23.  Peterson’s version reads like this:

God, my shepherd!  I don’t need a thing.  You have bedded me down in lush meadows, you find me quiet pools to drink from.  True to your word, you let me catch my breath and send me in the right direction.  Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side.  Your trusty shepherd’s crook makes me feel secure.  You serve me a six-course dinner right in front of my enemies.  You revive my drooping head; my cup brims with blessing.  Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life.  I’m back home in the house of God for the rest of my life.

Creative writing doesn’t necessarily need to be in the form of a poem or a prayer.  I try to journal as often as I can, at least four or five days a week.  That is my way of reviewing what is going on in my life, checking in on myself, thinking about my inner life, my spiritual life, and what I need.  It is a way to process what I’m going through.  Some people write fiction; others write prayers.

Another example in the Bible of a way to take care of yourself is to listen to or make music.  You might remember how David played the harp to soothe Saul, who apparently suffered from depression.  Music has a way of reaching into the depths of our souls and touching us in ways that nothing else can.  I love music that has words that can express what I want to say but haven’t been able to.  Hymns, popular music, even music from Broadway shows.  And I love instrumental music, too, whether it is classical or jazz or someone like Jim Brickman, Chris Botti, or Yo Yo Ma.  Music without words can sometimes be even better, because there are times when I have no words.  It’s like Paul wrote in Romans about prayer:  In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.

Sometimes I listen to music that mirrors my feelings, like when I’m feeling sad or depressed, as a way to let those feelings out.  One of the pieces I often listen to is Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor, which draws out my grief, my despair, my longing for God’s presence.  Here is a sample (feel free to stop the videos at any point and read on):

Other times, I listen to music to lift my spirits, to pull me up out of the depths and make myself feel better.  I love to listen to the Manhattan Transfer:

There are times when I choose to praise God, even when I’m not sure I really feel like it, because God is always worthy of praise and worship.  Of course, one of my favorites is Steven Curtis chapman:

And when I really need a lift, there is no more joyful piece on the organ than the Widor Toccata, which my mother requested as the last piece to be played at her funeral service.

One of the things I found particularly uplifting during these years of pandemic was listening to the virtual choirs, such as this one, made up of 300 people from 15 countries:

In his book, The Jesus Prescription for a Healthy Life, Len Sweet adds a few more examples from the life of Jesus. 

One is to hang out with your friends.  While PTSD can sometimes make you want to withdraw, that can be the worst thing to do.  Jesus spent time with his friends, with his disciples, in relaxed settings.  He loved to share meals with friends, and with strangers.  Sometimes even with enemies!  But always with those who loved him.  He often visited the home of Lazarus, Martha and Mary in Bethany.  And he stayed in the home of Peter when he was in Capernaum.  Jesus was not a lone ranger; he needed the company of other people.  Who are the people that are your closest friends?  Who do you call when you really need someone to listen?  Who can you just hang out with and not talk and know that they understand?  Spend time with those people; just being together can give you encouragement and strength for difficult days.

Another example in the gospels is to spend time with children.  Jesus spent time with children, and he even scolded his disciples when they tried to prevent the children from coming to him.  Jesus never lost touch with his inner child.  And he pointed out that there is something about a childlike faith that is necessary to enter the kingdom of God.  Jesus was loved by children; they wanted to spend time with him.  I can imagine Jesus playing games with them.  During the years that my mom was so ill, I lived in a house right behind the church next to the playground.  On Wednesday afternoons, we had a slate of activities for the kids, and they always had some playtime outdoors.  I started clearing my schedule on Wednesday afternoons so that I could spend time with the children.  I needed that time as stress-relief.  I laughed, I played, I giggled, I listened to silly jokes, I helped with homework, I drank Kool-Aid.  It was the best time of my week!  Are there children in your life?  Can you “adopt” some?   

And finally, Len says that we see in Jesus a model of coming apart so we don’t come apart.  In other words, Jesus sometimes needed time to be alone.  He would sometimes withdraw to a lonely place by himself – to the mountains, or by the lake, or to a garden.  He would pray.  He would retreat.  He would enjoy times of solitude.  He would regroup.  And it was always outdoors.  He connected with himself while he was connecting with nature.  I have found retreats to be an enormous help when I have been stressed out, even if was only for a day apart somewhere.  Sometimes I go to Silver Bay YMCA up at Lake George in New York, where they have a pastoral care program that provides for clergy to stay for free in the off-season.  I sit by the lake in an Adirondack chair and read, take walks, take naps, rest, and just be for a while.  The same kind of thing can be healthy for you, too.

We are all suffering from some degree of PTSD these days.  And the Bible can give us some examples of how we can deal with it in a healthy way.  I am also here to help.  I can listen.  I can work with you to find some ways to deal with it that feel comfortable to you.  And if necessary, I can find a referral for more in-depth counseling.  But, please, don’t hesitate to ask for help.  I remember a seminary classmate in my preaching class giving a sermon called, “If You’re Hurtin’, Holler.”  Let me know if you need help.  We’re all in this together.  And part of my calling is to be a healer.