While some people appear to sail through life, others seem to slog wearily from one struggle to the next. We may never know why this is so, but that is no reason to pretend it doesn’t happen.
Often we shy away from talking openly with a troubled person, thinking that our concern might be interpreted as interference, or that it might push him or her closer to the edge. In my encounters with suicidal depression, however, I have found the opposite to be true: people afflicted by it usually have a desperate need to speak openly about their thoughts. Tragically, they often don’t, because they fear a breezy response along the lines of “Cheer up; you’ll soon get over it.”
Every situation is unique, and it’s impossible to anticipate the best way of responding to a person who is depressed. Ultimately, however, words alone cannot save a person. They must be accompanied by the steady support of a loving relationship whereby we can, as the Apostle Paul put it, “carry each other’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”
In the 1970s my father brought home an alcoholic named Terry. He was thirty-two years old, homeless, and a veteran. As a child he had been sexually abused, and the terrible memories of his childhood often pulled him into deep depression. Papa spent a lot of time with him, listening to him, counseling him, and simply being his friend. He also arranged for him to receive psychiatric help and medication. Everyone loved Terry, and he stayed with us for more than a year.
Then one day Terry left, haunted by the demons of his past. Soon afterward we heard that he had killed himself. The news was a tremendous shock, especially to my father, who had loved Terry dearly. It was as if a family member had died. He wept for Terry, and he wept for the pain of the whole world.
One could almost say that it was futile to try to help a man like Terry; that he didn’t have a chance. Yet I have experienced over and over again that there are plenty of people whose wounds can be healed and who can be helped to overcome suicidal tendencies.
Over the past decades many desperate people have turned to me for pastoral help. Often their personal lives were in turmoil, and anguish over relationships, jobs, or money matters had upset the delicate balance of their emotions. In other cases there was simply no rational explanation to be found.
For years, suicide has been spoken of only in whispers. Despite our culture’s reputation for tolerance, a stigma still adheres to taking one’s life. Even as a topic of conversation, it remains largely taboo. People avoid speaking about death, regardless of its cause. When it comes to suicide, they are reluctant to say anything at all. How often have you seen suicide listed in an obituary as the cause of death?
At the same time, according to recent studies, a person commits suicide every fifteen minutes in the United States alone; and children between the ages of ten and fourteen are twice as likely to take their own lives as they were a decade ago.
Clearly, suicide is a devastating, widespread problem. For most of us, it has probably crossed our own minds at some point. Why, then, is it so hard for us to address? Perhaps it is because we are unwilling to see how near the brink of despair we all stand.
I have known Jim since his childhood, so when he fell in love with a woman named Sheila, it was my privilege to offer pastoral guidance as their relationship developed. Later I had the joy of conducting their wedding service.
Married life began happily for them, and within a year their first son arrived in perfect health. Then one morning a few months after the baby’s birth, Jim was at work when he began to feel uneasy. It was uncanny, he would explain later, but somehow a voice inside him seemed to be saying, “Sheila is in trouble!” He called her workplace. She wasn’t there. Then he called their home. No one answered, so, panicking, he left work and ran the quarter mile to their apartment. Finding a letter on the bed, he ripped it open. Then he looked in the bathroom. There she was, out cold on the floor, a kitchen knife and an empty bottle of extra-strength Motrin beside her…
Later, Jim would look back and recognize the warning signs that had been there all along – signs he had missed, or chosen to ignore. He would remember times Sheila tried to tell him about the dark thoughts that often harried her, and how he’d tried to bring her around by changing the subject. He would come to understand the desperation that had driven Sheila to act. But that morning, as he dropped to the bathroom floor and shook his wife’s shoulders, screaming her name into her ear, all he could think was, Why?
The demon of despair lurks at the edge of every human heart, and if we are honest we must admit that each of us has at one time or another felt its chilling touch. Despair is one of our greatest enemies. It means the loss of all joy, all hope, all confidence – sometimes even the will to live. Naturally, as with any illness, we look for a cause in hopes of unearthing clues to possible remedies. Often self-accusation lies at the core of despair. Many people spend their lives in darkness, ruled by a sense of guilt. Sooner or later they are tempted to self-destruction. Sometimes their guilt is real; other times it is merely perceptional – even the most unremarkable weaknesses and vices are exaggerated and turned into seemingly insurmountable walls.
Feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy are another reason for suicide. To be sure, such sentiments are normal. There are times when we feel we are not deserving of love or friendship but, like Kafka’s beetle, insects worthy only to be squashed. Many elderly people see euthanasia as a simple solution to their complex problems: loneliness due to the death of spouse or friends, loss of control and independence, and feelings of being unloved. They fear being a burden to their families, experiencing emotional or physical pain, and perhaps most of all, a long, drawn-out dying.
Finally, every person, believing or not, is subject to evil as a very real power. It is the work of the devil, whom the Bible calls “the accuser” and “the murderer from the beginning.” Satan knows our weakest points and strikes directly at our souls, using every means, including mental illness, to break us down. He throws people into deep despair and depression, into a dark heaviness that may not lift for years. When we see suicide in this way – as a battle between spiritual powers – it encourages us to let go of our inclination to despair and to turn instead to God’s infinite understanding.
Many who attempt suicide do not really want to die. Their desperation is a cry for attention, a cry for help. It must not be ignored, but taken seriously. One unsuccessful attempt is often followed by another. Without help and intervention, it will only be a matter of time before it succeeds.
How can we help such people? Many prevention programs exist, and such initiatives have their place. But I sometimes wonder whether we do not rely too heavily on experts. When a person is desperate, an “expert” may be the last person he wants to face. After all, who can cope with analysis or advice when he feels unable even to face himself? Naturally one cannot rule out the use of medications, but we should not forget that often the simple support of a listening ear – whether of a friend or family member, pastor or priest – is of decisive help.
Suicide stems from sickness of soul – from a soul starved of love. What better prevention than to help children, from infancy on, to find joy and purpose in life, to point them towards God? Perhaps one of the main reasons for our culture’s high suicide rate is our forgetfulness with regard to Christ’s two greatest commands: “Love God with all your heart, soul, and mind; and love your neighbor as yourself.” I am convinced that, taken seriously, these age-old words can still lead us to answering – and overcoming – the deepest despair in the world.
Another antidote we should not underestimate is prayer. However poor and inadequate our prayer may be, it is the best remedy for despair. And even if we think we don’t know how to pray, we can turn to God. Praying with the Psalms can be especially helpful, since the psalmist frequently voices our innermost longing in prayer: “Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my sighing…” or, “In my anguish I cried to the Lord, and he answered by setting me free.” Even when we feel attacked by darkness and God seems far away, prayer can be a mainstay.
When we pray it is as though we cling to a rope God has thrown to us. If we hold fast to this rope – no matter how numb the arms of our heart – he can pull us to safety and freedom. As Jesus says in the Gospel of Matthew, “Come to me, all who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” And for those who feel too unworthy to pray, Romans 8 offers this comfort: “The Spirit helps us in our weakness…and intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.”
When such verses fail to comfort a suicidal person, it is up to those of us near to him to have faith and believe in his stead – and, once again, to pray. No matter how certain a person is that he is beyond help, it is still possible to keep him afloat with the reassuring knowledge that others will continue to intercede on his behalf. There is a profound protection in this. As Dostoevsky says, “A prayer for the condemned will reach God, and that’s the truth.”
But what about when our best attempts at prevention don’t work, when someone threatens to kill himself anyway? According to the Hebrew prophet Jeremiah, who says that “a man’s life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps,” we ought to do everything we can to save him. But we must never try to do this by means of harsh or judgmental words. A hurting soul needs compassion, not condemnation; and despite his admonition, Jeremiah himself was tempted by suicidal thoughts, writing, “Cursed be the day that I was born! Oh, that I had died within my mother’s womb, that it had been my grave! For my life has been but trouble and sorrow and shame.”
There are other passages in scripture, too, that acknowledge the travails of living, and the human tendency to lose hope in dark times. To quote Thomas Merton’s paraphrase of verses from Luke and Revelation, “In the time of the end there will no longer be room for the desire to go on living. Men will call upon the mountains to fall upon them, because they wish they did not exist; they will wait for death, and death will elude them.”
None of this is to imply that suicide is a good or valid choice for a severely depressed person. Like most believers, I feel that because killing oneself almost always entails rebellion against God, it is wrong. But my point is this: it is not for us to pronounce it an unforgivable sin. Almost everyone struggles with suicidal thoughts at one time or another, and when someone actually tries to follow through on such thoughts, they need understanding, not judgment.
Earlier in this chapter I told of Sheila’s attempted suicide. Prompt medical intervention prevented her from dying, and after a two-week stay at a local psychiatric ward where she turned the vital corner – from wanting to kill herself, to wanting to live – she was back at home with Jim. But that was hardly the end of the story. Before long, her old demons returned, and some weeks she found herself battling suicidal temptations almost daily.
For the next several years Sheila’s life was an emotional roller coaster – the uphill slopes marked by optimism and confidence that healing was in sight, the downswings eased by medication, pastoral and psychiatric counseling, and intensive prayer.
Sometimes it seemed like a journey through hell, for her condition seemed largely the result of guilt she carried from a promiscuous and desperately unhappy adolescence. Eventually she came to feel that the only way forward was to face that guilt and find redemption from it.
Often Sheila and Jim would come to me for advice. Sometimes I was able to offer it; at other times I wasn’t. On those occasions there was nothing to do but sit quietly and plead for God’s intervention and help.
Today, seven years after she tried to kill herself, Sheila is the mother of three growing boys and one daughter – and she is no longer suicidal. She is not so naïve as to see this as a “happy ending,” for there are still days, even if rare, when she must battle fear and self-doubt. But having come as far as she has, she is convinced that even when she feels sad or alone, God will not abandon her. “Sometimes I just have to trust that I’m in his hands,” she says, “even when I don’t feel it.”