The wobbly glass
I love it when a simple item evokes a very special memory. This little whisky glass has done that for me in the last couple of weeks.
It
was free gift which came with the purchase of a couple of ‘wee drams’ in a
Scottish pub a good number of years ago. I was with Gary, a good friend and
amazing colleague during an overnight stay in Dunblane. We spent the evening in intense conversation, touching on the deepest issues of family, faith and
fragility. We drank enough of the whisky to receive a souvenir glass each! The glasses
have a rounded base – so they wobble, no doubt designed to enhance the tasting
experience. I have found another significance in the shape.In the first few days of my sabbatical I attended Gary’s
funeral. In recent years he had struggled more and more with the complexities
of life. In the end he couldn’t find the strength to go on. His passing is a
tragedy, but the funeral reminded us all of the profound love and insight which
marked him out as a very special person. The depth of his faith, his constant
search for meaning, his grasp of complex theology were all highlighted
during the service. He constantly strove to make sense of things, to live up to his own ideals. We were also reminded just how closely he walked with Jesus, each
and every day. He knew that suffering is part of life, and in his own anguish and suffering he
found a closeness to God which many of us find elusive. The church was filled
with people whose lives had been touched by this wonderful person. I think most
of us there also had some insight into just how hard it been for him. I thought
a lot that day about the wobbly glasses, of the precariousness which is
inherent in our everyday experience. There are wobbles every step along the
way. The glasses are designed to stay upright, but ultimately if they are
pushed hard enough, not only will the contents be spilled, they are prone to falling
off the table and breaking.
As we come to the end of Mental Health Awareness Week, which
has been heavily supported by two organisations which play a big part in my life, Co-op and Hackney Council, we do well to remember
that we are all ‘wobbly glasses', usually we manage to stay upright, but
sometimes the wobble becomes too severe.
During the period of lockdown I tried many times to engage congregations with the impact it was having on mental health. My frequent
comments were part of my own plea for understanding. I wasn’t coping. Yet time
and again the response was along the lines of ‘God will sort it all out, all we
have to do is trust’. Such comments left me feeling even worse. Was I a failure
as a Christian? Was I fit to lead Christian communities? Why didn’t my beliefs mean
it all worked out? All the things I had heard about the stigma of mental
illness felt very real and close to home.
In the end it broke me. There was a sense however that I had to reach that breaking point in order to find a way forward. A few well-meaning people around me suggested that I needed a bit of rest but most just didn’t get it at all. Into all that came a GP, who above all listened and then gently led me to a path of healing. I don’t know if she is a person of faith, my sense is that she is, and certainly she displays an empathy which should be at the heart of everyone who claims to be driven by belief and faith.
The medication she ultimately prescribed has led me into this sabbatical feeling calmer and more at ease with myself than I have felt in a long time. The glass still wobbles, but much more gently. I feel less of a failure, but am still disappointed that I haven’t been able to help congregations to understand that the struggle is about trying to be faithful, not a symbol of faith lacking.
And I raise my broken wobbly glass to you.
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