Welcome to today’s reflection.
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For most of my life, I have been reasonably good at solving problems; it’s my thing.
That does not mean I have always solved them all successfully, of course. There have been plenty of occasions when my attempts have probably made things considerably worse. But whenever something went wrong, my instinct was usually to do something. Make a plan. Have a conversation. Read a book. Work harder. Try another approach. If the first solution failed, there was normally another one waiting to be attempted.
Ministry encouraged that instinct. There was always another meeting to arrange, person to visit, sermon to prepare or problem to address. Parenting has often been similar. So has writing. If an article does not work, I can write another one. If something needs improving, I can change it. Even when progress is frustratingly slow, there is usually some action available.
Chronic illness introduced me to a very different kind of problem.
There are things I cannot solve by trying harder. In fact, trying harder can sometimes make them worse. I can manage my energy, adapt my routines and make sensible choices, but there are limits I cannot simply push through. I have had a good couple of days, but experience tells me that sooner or later, a reminder will arrive that the boundaries are still there.
I sometimes describe it as living inside a perspex box. I can see the world outside and participate in much of it, but there remains a barrier I did not choose and cannot remove by determination alone.
I find that incredibly difficult.
Not simply because of what illness prevents me from doing, but because it has forced me to confront something I spent much of my life avoiding.
There are times when there is simply nothing more I can do.
Perhaps that is why I recently found myself thinking differently about Noah.
