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Posts Tagged ‘suicide’

Robin Williams with maskIn searching among the many photos of Robin Williams, I’m surprised by my emotion.  I’m in awe of this creature of countless expressions and I believe that God mourns his apparent suicide.  The Potter of William’s life took such care to shape a vessel for esteemed use.  Surely, Williams brought laughter, posed questions and made us think.  But what did he think of himself?  Could he no longer laugh or find joy because his identity was so precariously unsure?

Williams was somebody.  And while we can no longer help him recognize his true identity, we can help ourselves and our children.

Our identity is not actor or senator or founder and CEO of Microsoft.  Our identity is not Victoria’s Secret model or teacher of the year or Supreme Court justice.  All of these are types of vocations or things we chose to do that affect the world around us.  Our identity is not heterosexual or homosexual.  These are behaviors and ways to grow–or not grow–the family tree.  Our identity is what God says we are.  To the baptized Christian, He says,  “You are my adopted child in Jesus Christ.  You are my heir.”  Nothing–no, not one thing save our own rejection of this identity–can change who we are in God’s eyes.

Our value comes not from anything we do, but from what Jesus Christ did for us.  The Savior of our lives has covered us with His Robe of Righteousness.  Now, when God looks at us–even when we’re suffering sin and depression–He sees the treasures for whom Jesus gave all He had.  Did anyone tell this to Williams?  Are we sharing this truth with family members, neighbors and friends?  Or are we reluctant to speak this truth because we, too, are deceived about who we really are?

In her post “Murderous Mendacity of Depression,” Elizabeth Scalia wrote,

Depression is a hissing false witness. It lies and tells someone there is no hope; it lies and declares, “you’re a fraud”; it lies when it warns you to hide your feelings, because people won’t love you if they know how terrified and alone and desperate you feel; it lies and sneers that you’re weak — that you can just snap out of it, anytime, if you really want to; it croons the lie that love is not real, and hope is for suckers; it whispers the most insidious of lies: that your pain will never ebb, cannot be transcended, and has no value at all.

After a while, the pain begins to feel like all you are and all there is: a worthless, pointless void. And when your life becomes just pain-without-end, suffering-without-meaning, tomorrow seems like less a promise than a prison.

When depression wins, it is such a damned tragedy, no matter whether it has carried off a big rich somebody, or an ordinary nobody, because it is the victory of an incessant liar.*

Jesus knows the liar.

He was a murderer from the beginning, and has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him.  When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for is a liar and the father of lies” (John 8:44 ESV).

We all hear the hiss of satan.  The evil one tempts: “Did God really say . . . ?”  The question stirs doubt.  In doubt, we put ourselves in God’s place and assume control.  After we do what we want and suffer the consequences, the tempter becomes our accuser: “Did God really say He can forgive you?”

Both questions are intended to separate us from the one who knows us better than we know ourselves.  The one who calls us by name.  The one who promises a future of hope.

It is right to mourn the loss of people who, in darkness or desperation, take their own lives.  Then we must ask: In light of my true identity, how shall I live?

Christ Jesus is the one who died–more than that, who was raised–who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us.  Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?  Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or  nakedness, or danger, or sword?  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:35-38 ESV).

 * I am appreciative to Sheila Liaugminas
who quoted Scalia in her Mercatornet article of 8-13-14

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prison cellThe 28th of October — three days from now — marks the tenth year of incarceration for my young friend Travis.  His life was forever changed when the jury pronounced him “guilty.”  He has no excuses.  Travis knows that he made terrible choices that led to life-threatening drug addiction.

He remembers that day in court when the verdict was read.  His mom reached for him, begging for one last hug but was denied by the U.S. Marshall who cuffed him and dragged him away.  Travis describes himself as a scared little boy in a man’s body unable to grasp the reality of what was happening, yet conscious of frightful images.  Where was he going?  With whom would he be imprisoned?  What would they do to him?  Would he be raped, stabbed or killed?

Travis writes, “I began to plot in my head how to end it all . . . life was not worth living anymore.  I thought of creative ways to use a bed sheet, or perhaps I could pick a fight and hopefully be killed in the process.”  But God was with Travis.  “The comfort I felt when I cried out to Him in one last ditch effort before I ended my life was so amazing.  God really did put His arms around me and lifted me up.”

It would be easy to languish in prison, to let the depression win and the hopelessness take root.  But there, in the most unlikely of places and under the Potter’s own hand, Travis has learned his true identity.  The world calls him a criminal.  A drug-abuser.  A law-breaker.  A bad boy.  A misfit.  But that is not how God identifies him.  God calls Travis His son in Jesus Christ.  A forgiven sinner.  A person of value.  A man with a future of hope.

Travis could remember October 28 as the end of his life.  Instead, he remembers it as the beginning of new life.   Before prison, Travis was captive to the lies.  In prison, he was set free in the Truth.  Before October 28, Travis had forgotten who he was.  On October 28, The Father reminded his child, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine” (Isaiah 43:1).

It is in darkness that light shines brightest.  Travis admits to struggling with fear, doubt, sadness, anger, and depression.  But knowing who he is in Christ, Travis also knows he is being transformed.  As a son of God in Christ, Travis has purpose.

You are . . . his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light . . . once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy (1 Peter 2:9).

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No one knows why, but a young woman is dead.   She was found in the garage of her parent’s home.  It appears that she hung herself.

Why?  Why would a young woman fear life itself?

What makes this especially personal is that I was on the phone with my son when it happened.  This young woman was his neighbor.  “The police have pulled up, Mom.  People are milling about outside the garage.  I’ll call you back.”  When he did, he explained what had just happened.  “Her mom and dad are standing outside.  Her dad is talking loud.  People are on cell phones.  The neighborhood is stunned.”

So, why?  Why was a young life cut short?  Not long ago, when our son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren were out for a walk, this young woman approached them with interest.  She was friendly.  Talkative.  During the course of the conversation, she explained that she was a psychology major in college.  She asked if she could hold baby Kate.

Now the girl who held my granddaughter is dead.  Evidence suggests that it was by her own hand.  I never met this young woman.  I don’t know her parents.  But, the ache inside me is real.

What happened?  Her parents, family and friends may never know.  But, one thing is certain.

Human life, because of sin, is very fragile.  The enemy of life knows this.  He delights in this weakness.  He takes advantage of our frailty.

Satan despises the humans who are created “a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned with glory and honor” (Psalm 8:5).  He is jealous of God’s beloved creations who have been given “dominion over the works of [His] hands;” with “all things under [our] feet” (v. 6).  Satan is a thief.  He comes to “steal and kill and destroy” (John 10:10a).

But, Jesus says, “I came that [you] may have life and have it abundantly.  I am the Good Shepherd.  The Good Shepherd lays down His life for the sheep” (v. 10b-11).  Jesus left heaven for our sake.  He lowered Himself so that He might battle Satan for every fragile life.  Jesus won eternal victory over Satan when He died on the Cross at Calvary.  His resurrection proves that victory.  He ascended back to heaven.  There He waits, until the Father tells the Son it is time to return to earth on the last day.  Then He will call every believer home.  To heaven.  To new life without the chains of sin.

For now, Satan is having his little day.  The destruction he leaves in his wake can take our breath away.  In our most vulnerable moments, he hisses, “Did God really say . . .?”  His best weapon is to deceive.  Once deceived, we doubt.  Then fear.  In fear, we are desperate to take control.  To do anything… anything that might stop the confusion or loneliness or suffering.

For this – and every other reason – our identity matters.  Knowing Whose we are matters.  Knowing that we are adopted sons and daughters of God because of what Jesus did for us matters.  Trusting our identity as God’s beloved creation serves us well in all circumstances.  No matter if we don’t feel loved or attractive or significant.  No matter if we are unhappy or in pain or seemingly spinning out of control and knocked off our foundation, we remain God’s treasures in Christ.

Trusting our identity in Christ, we become less vulnerable.  When Satan comes to deceive, Jesus stands close.  When Satan hisses in one ear, Jesus calls us to Him.  “Trust Me, My child.  Hear My word of hope.  When all forsake you, I never will.”

Our identity matters.  Trusting our identity in Christ makes a difference.  Even if something snaps… if a neuron misfires… our identity does not change.

One question remains.  It is for us.  The living.  Do we know our identity?  Do we see ourselves as treasures of great price?  In the battle for our very souls, do we look past the thief to focus hearts and minds on the Good Shepherd?  No matter the circumstances, do we cling to His promise?

Dear Father, comfort the parents of this young woman.  They suffer loss beyond my imagination.  In their loss, draw them to the Cross of their Savior.  Send Your Spirit to fill the emptiness.  To work Your will for good.  Amen. 

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