I had become the pastor of a fairly large church at the age of 30; the first year was going well, but it was hard work.
I was the father of two young sons with another on the way. Our house was being extended. All in all, I had plenty of reason to feel tired and pressurised. So when, while working late at night, I found that for a few minutes the words would swim in front of my eyes, there was no serious cause for concern: just another stressed-out pastor! The locum GP agreed and gave me sleeping pills.
Mid-sermon
Even when it happened mid-sermon, and I had to take a breather while members of the congregation sang, prayed and speculated — well, we were not too worried. Some sort of panic attack, no doubt; not pleasant, but not a big problem. A different locum GP agreed and gave me beta-blockers.
