My friend from church killed himself.
When I heard about it, my initial instinct was to suppress the news, calling on a coping mechanism I’ve cultivated to steel myself against what disturbs me. But suicide isn’t suppressible. I was too sad, and too stunned he made the choice or felt he had no other.
A person dying is a tragedy--a suicide is a tragedy with profound questions. Steve suffered from clinical depression for years but had availed himself to the best theories and practices of the medical, psychological, and church communities. Why wasn’t it enough? Steve was married with children and grandchildren; how could he knowingly remove himself from their lives?
Far be it for me or anyone to cast aspersions: we all know life sometimes hangs by a thread. Our pain and disillusionments pound at our souls so that the question isn’t so much why some do but why more don’t. I’ve certainly thought of suicide before--not so much with a plan or ideation but as a way to cope when life gets too disheartening. I’m sure one of the reasons I felt compelled to attend Steve’s memorial was to sort through these feelings.
As it turned out more about 150 people gathered a few weeks after his suicide to “celebrate” his life without forgetting how he ended it. There was irony with the grief: when not plagued by depression, Steve had a genuine joie de vivre, a passion about God, sports, surfing and doing Mick Jagger imitations. His brother described him as both a great leader and follower, a unique combination of traits. And this big lug could hug--he’d put his arms around you and after gasping for air you’d check how your vertebrae was doing.
With these recollections our smiles put a salve on our woundedness but the tears still flowed. Thankfully so: grieving was needed and welcomed`and cultivated, never so much as when a slideshow paraded a lifetime of pictures showing Steve expressing his exuberance. Steve’s sister and brothers and three children all courageously spoke about missing that Steve, along with searching for perspective on the life he chose not to continue.
After the memorial I found myself asking: how could God have allowed this to happen? The Bible says we won’t be “tempted beyond what he was able,”; wasn’t this beyond beyond? There is no doubt Steve and his family and friends had prayed tens of thousands of times for healing to a God they believe loved him and would protect him. Where was that God?
In the midst of this, I believe. Somewhere within the mystery of free will and life on life’s terms and the pain Steve was experiencing was God. My lack of comprehension may lead to a fallback of fault finding (isn’t it enough to say he courageously fought the disease of Clinical Depression and leave it at that?); He who knows more and judges less can bring everything together for good.
When Corrie Ten Boom’s sister Betsie lay dying at Ravensbruck concentration camp at the end of World War II, she said: “We must tell people that no pit is so deep that He is not deeper still.”
I may not have answers to all my questions on suicide, but the One who does can ensure that Steve didn’t live in vain and that nothing can separate us from Him.
When I heard about it, my initial instinct was to suppress the news, calling on a coping mechanism I’ve cultivated to steel myself against what disturbs me. But suicide isn’t suppressible. I was too sad, and too stunned he made the choice or felt he had no other.
A person dying is a tragedy--a suicide is a tragedy with profound questions. Steve suffered from clinical depression for years but had availed himself to the best theories and practices of the medical, psychological, and church communities. Why wasn’t it enough? Steve was married with children and grandchildren; how could he knowingly remove himself from their lives?
Far be it for me or anyone to cast aspersions: we all know life sometimes hangs by a thread. Our pain and disillusionments pound at our souls so that the question isn’t so much why some do but why more don’t. I’ve certainly thought of suicide before--not so much with a plan or ideation but as a way to cope when life gets too disheartening. I’m sure one of the reasons I felt compelled to attend Steve’s memorial was to sort through these feelings.
As it turned out more about 150 people gathered a few weeks after his suicide to “celebrate” his life without forgetting how he ended it. There was irony with the grief: when not plagued by depression, Steve had a genuine joie de vivre, a passion about God, sports, surfing and doing Mick Jagger imitations. His brother described him as both a great leader and follower, a unique combination of traits. And this big lug could hug--he’d put his arms around you and after gasping for air you’d check how your vertebrae was doing.
With these recollections our smiles put a salve on our woundedness but the tears still flowed. Thankfully so: grieving was needed and welcomed`and cultivated, never so much as when a slideshow paraded a lifetime of pictures showing Steve expressing his exuberance. Steve’s sister and brothers and three children all courageously spoke about missing that Steve, along with searching for perspective on the life he chose not to continue.
After the memorial I found myself asking: how could God have allowed this to happen? The Bible says we won’t be “tempted beyond what he was able,”; wasn’t this beyond beyond? There is no doubt Steve and his family and friends had prayed tens of thousands of times for healing to a God they believe loved him and would protect him. Where was that God?
In the midst of this, I believe. Somewhere within the mystery of free will and life on life’s terms and the pain Steve was experiencing was God. My lack of comprehension may lead to a fallback of fault finding (isn’t it enough to say he courageously fought the disease of Clinical Depression and leave it at that?); He who knows more and judges less can bring everything together for good.
When Corrie Ten Boom’s sister Betsie lay dying at Ravensbruck concentration camp at the end of World War II, she said: “We must tell people that no pit is so deep that He is not deeper still.”
I may not have answers to all my questions on suicide, but the One who does can ensure that Steve didn’t live in vain and that nothing can separate us from Him.
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