I am typing this column on a Thursday afternoon in my study. I should be working on my sermon, because it’s not done. But I can’t seem to get it done. There’s no energy there, no creativity. So I sit with a blank stare. I chew on my cheek. My mind wanders to the Carolina Panthers. I get up to grab a Diet Coke. I try to pray, but I can’t focus. I take a short nap. I check my e-mail to see if somebody needs me for something. Good – one e-mail. I nibble on a fingernail. I write Linda about our plans for date night. I write a blog entry. I write this article.
It’s a side of me most people don’t see and may not even suspect. It’s called attention deficit. And hyperactivity. ADHD. It explains a lot.
My brain works fast, but not necessarily deep. Unless I’m under pressure or highly stimulated, I have a hard time focusing my attention in one place for very long. Honestly, I always thought it was either normal or spiritual-emotional-psychological immaturity.
Now that I know otherwise, it helps me understand me. I don’t want excuses (more on that next week), but explanations are therapeutic. I realize that I have been able through the years to develop some fairly significant coping strategies.
I do, after all, get things done. Probably too many. I do more things than most people, but many of them less well. I fly through the surface of life and spend less time in deep reflection and prayer than others. I read widely, not in depth. My words are many, but my vocabulary is not broad. I’m often spacey and easily distracted from the task at hand when a more interesting stimulus pops up.
People tell me I have the most amazingly well-organized task list they’ve ever seen. It may be true. (If you want to see it, come to the “Bobinar” Saturday morning, January 9, and I’ll show you how it works.) I never knew until now that my obsessive list of categories and priorities is simply ADHD coping strategies in action. I funnel my hyperactivity into a determination to write down what needs to be done, keep track of what’s been accomplished, and habitually reorganize the rest. I’ve learned to create my own pressure.
Next week I’ll tell you what my ADHD means to you.
Bob, we’re different in some ways but I am still so familiar with this state of mind - for me it was usually Friday afternoon - and I remember all my attempts to conquer that slogging along sensation. I usually gave up and went on a thoroughly exhausting bike ride, then got up early Saturday and finished - sometimes though, well most times actually, I would be back in my study late Saturday night, still revising. I would get to certain place in the work of writing the sermon and want to start over.
Your comment on the role of pressure in this kind of creative work reminds of a time I was sitting staring at the computer screen trying to decide if I wanted to delete and start over. I noticed an aerosol can of cleaner nearby, and its warning label - WARNING - CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE - it so aptly described the moment and the man. The ministry is so uniquely pressurized. I know life is hard and full of pressure for everyone but there is such a range of feelings or expectations about the contents of a minister’s sermon - sermons are pressurized moments. - Keep preaching God’s grace in Christ (as you always do). I suppose it takes this kind of pressure to produce what we do and what the God’s church needs.
-Blessings,
Jack