Last year at this time I read Your Best Year Ever by Michael Hyatt. I followed the S.M.A.R.T.E.R. framework for goal setting Hyatt lays out in his book. I ordered the Full Focus Planner from his online store and filled it in with the ten goals I hoped to accomplish in 2019. I was prepped and ready, like a kid laying out the next year's supplies the night before school begins. If I could hit my target and knock out these ten goals I would be, I thought, a better husband, father, friend, pastor, et al.
I awoke on January 1, 2019 with a rush of excitement, the air alive and crackling with the energy and promise of 365 days to explore, push, and grow into who God had called me to be. January bled into February, each gray day bending and folding itself into the next. Time moved quickly and I was making no progress on my goals. I felt behind. I was stressed. Anxiety began to rear its head. I thought I needed more coffee. I thought I needed to redouble my lackluster effort. I remained hopeful for what the year could be.
Then came late February and a panic attack while driving back down the mountain from family vacation. It seemed that every goal I set and every opportunity I pursued for the church was coming up empty. I had overloaded myself with expectations, both real and imagined, and my brain and body began to wear down under the pressure. Here was the first indication, although I ignored it at the time, that I wasn't well. Here was the first faltering step, the first peer over the ledge into the depths of my brokenness. I was unaware of just how much anxiety, stress, and not resting in and finding my identity in Christ had done to chip away and weaken me physically, emotionally, relationally, and spiritually.
We went to dinner after church on Mother's Day. As we neared the end of the meal I uncrossed my legs and immediately felt my heart begin to race. I was having an episode of SVT. For somewhere between 35-50 minutes my heart rate stayed between 170/bpm to a high of 210/bpm. I kept trying to break the rhythm myself through breathing techniques, but to no avail. I ended up in the ED for a couple of hours. Between the second and third doses of Adenosine I saw concern register on my wife's face and I wondered for the first time if I had told my girls goodbye for the last time. By God's grace the third dose converted my heart back to its regular rhythm. I went home that night with a renewed awareness of my own frailty and a deepening resolve to make necessary changes.
An addiction to caffeine and unaddressed anxiety were the fuel that pushed my heart into overdrive. As I sat on the couch the next day and recounted the night before with my mom I realized I was using the language of an addict when it came to coffee. I needed it to wake up. I needed it to maintain focus. If I didn't have it I became angry, withdrawn, and despondent until I could get more. In the evenings my temper was quick and anger bubbled out of me as I went through caffeine withdrawal. Immediately I dropped to one or two cups of coffee a day, with no added espresso shots. I worked at drinking more water and eating healthier. And I made my first appointment with a counselor who specialized in pastoral care.
The first time I stepped through the doors at CareNet of Wilmington I wanted to turn around and leave. Surely I wasn't in this bad of shape. Surely I could overcome my anxiety if I just read the right book. I stayed for an hour that day, pouring out the truth of just how broken, confused, and unable to fix myself I really was. Honesty and openness led to space for healing to begin. Unpacking all that I had buried and ignored reopened old wounds and brought fresh tears, but it also allowed grace and mercy to be the balm to my broken and weary soul.
If I had achieved all I had on my goal list for 2019 I wouldn't be a better husband, father, friend, or pastor because my core still would have been rotten and the collapse, which surely would've come at some point, would've been much greater. I shudder to think of the increased collateral damage if I hadn't been brought low by the Lord. So it was there at the edges of my despair and in my greatest weakness I found the sweet nearness and tender care of Jesus. He wasn't waiting for me at the top of my completed goal list for 2019, he was waiting for me in the ruins. Proverbs 16:9 says, "The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." As I look back on the year that was and wasn't, I'm grateful that the Lord led my steps to where he could minister to me most effectively.
Over the past week I've started to pray and write out my goals, both personally and professionally, for 2020. I’m rereading Your Best Year Ever by Michael Hyatt. I’m still following the S.M.A.R.T.E.R. framework for goal setting Hyatt lays out in his book. I’m filling in my new Full Focus Planner from his online store with my ten goals for this year. But I've done so with an open hand because if there is one thing this past year has taught me, it's that while I can plan, it is the Lord who will direct my steps. And I trust, more and more each day, that his loving guidance and tender care will keep me close by his side and bring me safely home.
I awoke on January 1, 2019 with a rush of excitement, the air alive and crackling with the energy and promise of 365 days to explore, push, and grow into who God had called me to be. January bled into February, each gray day bending and folding itself into the next. Time moved quickly and I was making no progress on my goals. I felt behind. I was stressed. Anxiety began to rear its head. I thought I needed more coffee. I thought I needed to redouble my lackluster effort. I remained hopeful for what the year could be.
Then came late February and a panic attack while driving back down the mountain from family vacation. It seemed that every goal I set and every opportunity I pursued for the church was coming up empty. I had overloaded myself with expectations, both real and imagined, and my brain and body began to wear down under the pressure. Here was the first indication, although I ignored it at the time, that I wasn't well. Here was the first faltering step, the first peer over the ledge into the depths of my brokenness. I was unaware of just how much anxiety, stress, and not resting in and finding my identity in Christ had done to chip away and weaken me physically, emotionally, relationally, and spiritually.
We went to dinner after church on Mother's Day. As we neared the end of the meal I uncrossed my legs and immediately felt my heart begin to race. I was having an episode of SVT. For somewhere between 35-50 minutes my heart rate stayed between 170/bpm to a high of 210/bpm. I kept trying to break the rhythm myself through breathing techniques, but to no avail. I ended up in the ED for a couple of hours. Between the second and third doses of Adenosine I saw concern register on my wife's face and I wondered for the first time if I had told my girls goodbye for the last time. By God's grace the third dose converted my heart back to its regular rhythm. I went home that night with a renewed awareness of my own frailty and a deepening resolve to make necessary changes.
An addiction to caffeine and unaddressed anxiety were the fuel that pushed my heart into overdrive. As I sat on the couch the next day and recounted the night before with my mom I realized I was using the language of an addict when it came to coffee. I needed it to wake up. I needed it to maintain focus. If I didn't have it I became angry, withdrawn, and despondent until I could get more. In the evenings my temper was quick and anger bubbled out of me as I went through caffeine withdrawal. Immediately I dropped to one or two cups of coffee a day, with no added espresso shots. I worked at drinking more water and eating healthier. And I made my first appointment with a counselor who specialized in pastoral care.
The first time I stepped through the doors at CareNet of Wilmington I wanted to turn around and leave. Surely I wasn't in this bad of shape. Surely I could overcome my anxiety if I just read the right book. I stayed for an hour that day, pouring out the truth of just how broken, confused, and unable to fix myself I really was. Honesty and openness led to space for healing to begin. Unpacking all that I had buried and ignored reopened old wounds and brought fresh tears, but it also allowed grace and mercy to be the balm to my broken and weary soul.
If I had achieved all I had on my goal list for 2019 I wouldn't be a better husband, father, friend, or pastor because my core still would have been rotten and the collapse, which surely would've come at some point, would've been much greater. I shudder to think of the increased collateral damage if I hadn't been brought low by the Lord. So it was there at the edges of my despair and in my greatest weakness I found the sweet nearness and tender care of Jesus. He wasn't waiting for me at the top of my completed goal list for 2019, he was waiting for me in the ruins. Proverbs 16:9 says, "The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." As I look back on the year that was and wasn't, I'm grateful that the Lord led my steps to where he could minister to me most effectively.
Over the past week I've started to pray and write out my goals, both personally and professionally, for 2020. I’m rereading Your Best Year Ever by Michael Hyatt. I’m still following the S.M.A.R.T.E.R. framework for goal setting Hyatt lays out in his book. I’m filling in my new Full Focus Planner from his online store with my ten goals for this year. But I've done so with an open hand because if there is one thing this past year has taught me, it's that while I can plan, it is the Lord who will direct my steps. And I trust, more and more each day, that his loving guidance and tender care will keep me close by his side and bring me safely home.
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