When You Love Jesus, but Still Can't Remember Where You Put Your Keys

This is the first blog post in a series entitled, The Beautiful ADHD Brain.

So, you just opened the front door, steaming hot tea in a to-go cup in one hand (lid's a little loose), that thing you absolutely need today in the other, ready to leave. And then you realize, you can't find your keys.

You sit your tea down (the lid falls off), double check that your glasses are on your head, and look under yesterday's mail. You empty your purse. Check the basket on the entry hall table where you promised yourself you would keep your keys from now on. Check your purse again (because apparently objects tend to materialize on the second search), and then ask your husband if he's seen them.

You hear him say, "No, sorry, I haven't." But then, another voice enters the conversation. And, it's not coming from another room.

Why can't you get it together?

Why can't you remember?

Why does something so simple always need to be this hard?

And suddenly, you aren't simply looking for your keys. Your fighting yourself because your inner voice is being highly self-critical and ridiculously loud.

Spiritual Formation Doesn't Erase Our Humanity

Somewhere along the way, many of us absorbed the idea that becoming spiritually mature would make us increasingly organized, disciplined, emotionally steady, consistent, and productive. Of course, there is an element of truth in that; following Jesus certainly changes and steadies us. Learning to be organized and disciplined is a part of stewarding our lives well. But, please follow me here, loving Jesus doesn't erase our humanity.

It doesn't change my need for sleep. It doesn't change the fact that I need to eat nourishing food to feel well. It doesn't change the fact that I need adequate exercise to remain strong. And, loving Jesus doesn't make an ADHD brain stop being an ADHD brain.

ADHD is a neurodevelopmental condition associated with differences in attention regulation, executive functioning, working memory, impulse control, and other cognitive processes. That means some of the things you may interpret as personal failure may actually have to do with the way your brain works.

Maybe the Hardest Part Isn't the ADHD

For many adults with ADHD, the hardest part isn't always the misplaced keys, forgotten appointments, or an overflowing laundry basket. It's the story we've learned to tell ourselves, or have allowed others to tell us, about what those things mean.

And that's where ADHD can become entangled with something else–shame.

Years of criticism, misunderstanding, feeling as though you are failing, overwhelm, or trying to function like someone else can leave wounds of their own. And in order to heal those wounds, compassion is always needed.

I think it's important to make a distinction here. ADHD and trauma are not the same thing. Addressing trauma may not explain away every ADHD struggle, and healing past wounds does not necessariy make an ADHD brain disappear. They do compound one another, for sure. But, ADHD is largely genetic, and we do well to see ourselves as fearfully and wonderfully made, instead of the deficient story that is prevalent in our culture today.

Jesus is not Standing over You with a Clipboard in His Hand

When you are frantically looking for your keys, what do you imagine Jesus doing? Impatiently shaking His head at you while saying, "We really need to work on your executive functioning!"?

I don't see that picture of Jesus in the Bible.

Instead, Jesus describes Himself as gentle and humble in heart. Isaiah prophetically describes Jesus as One who will not break a bruised reed or extinguish a smoldering wick. Again and again, throughout the Scriptures, we see Jesus encountering people in their vulnerability without shaming them for having needs.

Is it possible to imagine that He looks at us with that same compassion? Can we flip the script in our own heads? What if that ridiculously loud inner-critic is not the voice we need to obey? What if we learn to quiet ourselves enough so that we begin to hear a different voice–one that gently says, "Let's find those keys."

ADHD Isn't Only a Story About Deficiency

ADHD can certainly make ordinary tasks genuinely difficult. And, we need to acknowledge those struggles honestly. It's the only way to find solutions that help. But I don't believe that a deficient story is the whole story.

I believe that many of us with ADHD are highly creative people.

Listen, creativity is more than painting, sculpting, or dancing. It's a way of seeing the world, the possibilities, making unexpected connections, solving problems differently, imagining what doesn't exist quite yet, building, writing, designing, teaching, cooking, gardening, storytelling, entrepreneurship, humor...or the like...

This means that sometimes the same mind that cannot remember where she put the keys is also carrying eighteen ideas about how to make the world a better place. That's a beautiful ADHD brain doing what it's designed to do. Where she placed the keys was just not high on the list of priorities her mind was working through at the time–until those keys were needed. In this light, the challenge needs to be about learning how to support that mind instead of spending a lifetime fighting it.

What if We Don't Need to Become Someone Else

I absolutely believe that Jesus heals us physically, mentally, and emotionally. I also firmly believe that renewing our mind results in changed neurological patterns. I've experienced this over my lifetime, and believe that it's an intrical part of transformation. But I also believe that we are always moving toward a greater sense of wholeness. And, learning to be kind to ourselves, in whatever struggles present themselves, is a prerequisite in learning to be kind to others.

Because of that, there are aspects of our humanity that simply need self-acceptance, not eradication. And, we need to stop measuring ourselves, or letting others measure us, against people whose nervous systems, capacities, personalities, and biology is different than ours.

Grace Sometimes Looks Like a Basket by the Front Door

The truth is that I rarely lose my keys these days. I have a bowl that sits on my entryway table for that reason. It has become an automatic response for me to drop my keys there when entering my home. I do it without even thinking. My reading glasses on the other hand...well...

Because of finding some of those solutions, here's what I've learned. There is something wonderfully unspiritual-looking about practical grace. Sure, sometimes a situation calls for deep prayer, or extending forgiveness in places that are difficult. But sometimes, the most grace-filled thing we can do is to place a basket by the front door, keep duplicates of said keys, and design our environment around the brain we actually have–instead of the brain we think we should have. That's not being undisciplined, that's wisdom.

This allows for the question to change from:

Why can't you remember? to What would make remembering easier?

So, the next time you start to spiral because you can't find your keys, maybe try something different. Maybe ask, "Jesus, help me be patient with myself right now, just as You are with me." Then look for the keys. That's it. Nothing spiritually profound. You are simply refusing to turn an inconvenient moment into an indictment of your identity.

And in this, maybe we can learn that flourishing isn't found when we ultimately win the war we fight against ourselves. Maybe it begins when we simply stop fighting the person God is inviting us to become. The one who embraces both His love and our own humanity.