suicide

Trusting God with My Death

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I thought I would share this for National Suicide Prevention Awareness Week. The following is an excerpt from my book, In the Altogether: Trusting God with All We Hide From the World.

I've always been astonished by testimonies where someone shares the exact date and time they were prepared to commit suicide. Their story is about how God met them at that moment, and they never looked back. I'm secretly jealous of those stories. I wish I could point to one specific moment. I wish I could tell you the date of the last time I seriously considered suicide. I don't know. It's all a blur. When I was younger, I wasn't even aware that was what was happening in my brain. The thoughts would go away and come back, looking a little different in each stage of life. It's not like I'm calling for everyone to stop sharing their testimonies if they don't sound exactly like mine. I know some people hit rock bottom, make a decision, and never turn back. But I also want to make room for people like me––the ones who hit rock bottom, make a decision, but do turn back. The ones who fall again. When we only hear one type of story, we can feel like we've missed our one shot at redemption. We think that if it didn't work the first time it's over for us. We're a lost cause. We think, If I didn't completely change the moment I handed my life over to Jesus, I guess I never will.

I do have one specific date I can share with you. March 24.

The only reason I know it is because I always write the date with the notes I take at church. During service that Sunday, I was feeling really depressed and a thought about suicide flashed through my mind. It had been a long time since I seriously considered taking my own life. This wasn't like that. This was only a quick thought passing through. I still get one every once in a while. It never stays long. I never make plans. I know it'll pass. At the end of the service, the worship team sang In Christ Alone, and God used that moment to speak to me.

The whole song is beautiful, but the part that really hit me was the line "till he returns or calls me home." The Holy Spirit comforted me with that phrase. I can trust Jesus with my death. He knows my end. He will take me when it's time. He's coming back. This isn't forever. Until that happens, I want to live my life for him. For someone who struggled with the temptation to take his own life, the thought of trusting Jesus with my death was a beautiful reversal of how I used to think. Jesus entered my depression story years ago and changed everything, but I'm still growing, still being transformed, all these years later.

No Feeling is Final

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Jojo Rabbit is a brilliant movie that should have never worked. It’s about a boy growing up in Nazi Germany and his imaginary best friend is Hitler? And it’s funny? And it’s touching and heartwarming and beautiful? No. There’s no way. How is that possible?

Somehow it is. I saw it today and I loved it.

The film ends with a quote from a poem I had never heard before.

Rainer Maria Rilke’s Go to the Limits of Your Longing

 

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.

 

No feeling is final.

No feeling is final.

What a relief. What a wonderful reminder. It all ends. Life keeps moving and new things will show up.

This too shall pass.

When I was in my darkest moments, struggling with thoughts of suicide, I felt hopeless because of this overwhelming sense that I would never not feel as bad as I was feeling at that moment. I was so sure that the weight would never lift. This was forever.

But it’s not true.

Just keep going. No feeling is final.

Can Someone Talk to You About Suicide?

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Why does it feel like we only talk about suicide when there’s one in the news? And why does it feel like the only thing we ever say about it is “if you’re struggling, please reach out.” Then we throw out the phone number for the suicide hotline, call it a day, and move on. But there’s so much more to say on the subject. With how quickly the news cycle moves on to the next big tragedy or controversy, we’re never given enough time to get into it. It’s almost as if the window left open for a public conversation is only wide enough for all of us to throw out one quick tweet on the topic. The world moves on too quickly. Get something, anything out, before the attention goes somewhere else.

As of the writing of this post, there has not been a high profile suicide in the news, so I wanted to take a moment and say something about the way we talk about suicide.

The public conversation is always aimed at the ones who are silently suffering. “Reach out,” we say. “Don’t keep it to yourself.” “Talk to someone.” Obviously this an important message for anyone trapped in shame but because we don’t give ourselves very long to speak openly about suicide, it’s all we ever say. There’s a whole other group of people who never get addressed before the subject is closed and we move on.

Why do we never say anything to those NOT struggling with suicidal thoughts? I realize how stupid that sounds. That could easily come across like a real “All Live Matter” hot take but stay with me.

If you’re going to tell people to reach out, you need to take a moment to evaluate if you're the type of person someone would feel comfortable reaching out to. Are there people in your life right now who would consider you trustworthy enough to open up to about their worst and darkest thoughts and feelings? Have they seen love, compassion, patience, and kindness in the way you respond to this fallen world?

Are you having conversations that leave room for heavier topics?

Do you have relationships where you could ask deeply personal questions of the other person? I remember when I was in darker moments I’d be sitting quietly with friends just hoping someone would ask me if I was ok. Just ask. Someone just ask me point blank and I will let it all out. I was too scared to take the leap on my own. I needed to know that people actually cared and noticed there was something wrong before I felt comfortable vomiting it all out.

People aren’t just struggling with suicidal thoughts when it’s in the news. It’s happening all the time. It’s happening right now. We need to talk about it. And we need to say more than just “reach out."

It’s like we’re standing in a lighthouse looking over the ocean with a megaphone saying, “If you’re out there stranded in the water and you feel like you’re close to drowning, scream for help.” Maybe it would be helpful to turn around with our megaphone and shout to the people on dry land, “Get in your boats and go out there. There are people who need you. Find them!"


I’m running the Disney Marathon in January to raise money for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. If you want to donate, you can go here.

If you enjoyed this post, you might also be interested in my book. In the Altogether: Trusting God with All We Hide From the World is about the importance of vulnerability in the life of the church. Why we need it, why we’re afraid of it, and why we don’t have to be.

In Person vs. Through a Screen: A HUGE Problem Facing our Culture

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It’s not the same when it’s through a screen.

No one who watched the Super Bowl in their living room would claim they had the same experience as the people who were in the arena.

I still don’t understand why people at concerts record a million videos to post on instagram. Who is that for? You can’t tell what’s happening and the audio is so blown out and terrible. I’m not getting anything out of this. Why? Because it’s not the same when it’s through a screen.

Ever seen a video of a soldier coming home and surprising their loved ones? The family goes nuts. They’re so emotional and excited and overwhelmed. But why, though? The majority of these soldiers have had internet access while overseas. They’ve been able to text, e-mail, and FaceTime. They’ve been able to stay connected. 

But it’s not the same when it’s through a screen.

Nothing beats the live the experience. It’s true for the Super Bowl and it’s true for relationships.

This is becoming a serious issue in America. Back in November the Washington Post shared an article from Jean Twenge called “Teenage depression and suicide are way up — and so is smartphone use.”

Here’s what she says:

Interacting with people face to face is one of the deepest wellsprings of human happiness; without it, our moods start to suffer and depression often follows. Feeling socially isolated is also one of the major risk factors for suicide. We found that teens who spent more time than average online and less time than average with friends in person were the most likely to be depressed. Since 2012, that’s what has occurred en masse: Teens have spent less time on activities known to benefit mental health (in-person social interaction) and more time on activities that may harm it (time online).

This is not just a youth problem. They’re not the only ones with their heads down, staring at phones all day. They’re not the only ones living out relationships through a screen.

It’s hurting us. We’re missing out on genuine connection.

The greatest way to love someone and give them what they need today is to look them in the eye.

Call someone up, make plans, sit across from them, and look them in the eye.

One Rough School Assembly

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I do school assemblies with a ministry called Youth Alive. Two weeks ago we were in Oklahoma setting up for an assembly in a jr high when the principal came over and asked about my segment. We have a few different speakers who present throughout the assembly and that day I was going to talk about bullying and suicide. He tells me that the school had an attempted suicide earlier in the week and to be sensitive of that.

I have never had that happen before. That was a hard one to get through. I usually have no idea any sort of back story behind the group I’m speaking to. It’s not until after the show that I hear stories of people dealing with the stuff I talk about. But this time I was on stage making eye contact with student after student trying desperately to hold back tears. Each student I saw I thought “this segment is for them.” “This segment is for them.”

When I was at a youth ministry conference  last week I was talking to a pastor about why confession is so important to me and why I’m always focusing on it as I close out my stand-up shows. He brought up one of his favorite verses “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind (1 Cor. 10:13).”

How comforting to know you’re not the only one. You’re not alone. I get to say it in my stand-up. You have the chance to say it to your family, friends, small group, or even complete strangers in their moments of need. You’re not alone.

Robin Williams, Depression, and All of Us

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Robin Williams passed away yesterday and it broke everyone's heart. I follow a lot of comedians on Twitter and there were tons of really sweet stories and sentiments shared about Robin Williams. There was consensus among the comedy community that not only was he one of the greatest performers but he was also one of the greatest men offstage. Comedian Dana Gould shared this story on his tumblr.

Two years ago, I was performing at The Punchline in San Francisco, and Robin came to the show with our mutual friend, Dan Spencer.

This particular batch of material was the first time I had touched upon my then still-fresh divorce wounds, and big chunks of it were pretty dark. The next day, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize. Whoever it was had obviously been to the show and knew my number, so I figured they would reveal themselves at some point and save me the embarrassment of asking who they were.

The Mystery Texter asked how I was REALLY doing. “You can’t fool me. Some of those ‘jokes’ aren’t ‘jokes.” By now I knew that whoever this was had been through what I was enduring, as no one else would know to ask, “What time of day is the hardest?”

He wanted to know how my kids were handling it, all the while assuring me that the storm, as bleak as it was, would one day pass and that I was not, as I was then convinced, a terrible father for visiting a broken home upon my children.

I am not rewriting this story in retrospect to make it dramatic. I did not know who I was texting with. Finally, my phone blipped, and I saw, in a little green square, “Okay, pal. You got my number. Call me. I’ve been there. You’re going to be okay. - Robin.”

That is what you call a human being.

Paul F. Tompkins, another great comedian, shared his feelings about Robin Williams. You can read the whole thing here but I really identify with this paragraph:

Robin Williams made me laugh so many times. So many times. When I was a kid, having problems of my own, feeling unpleasantly different from the people who populated my world, I found sanctuary watching this guy on TV who was celebrated for being a weirdo, for being an oddball, for being silly. He was praised for having a mind that produced delightful absurdities with great speed. No one told him to be quiet. No one tried to make him act like everyone else.

This is just a small sample of a million posts that echo these same thoughts.

Robin Williams took his own life yesterday and the world was devastated. Not only was there an outpouring of love for the comedian but there was also a great deal being said about suicide, depression, and mental illness.

We can’t forget about the ones we’ve lost but we must never lose focus on the ones we’re going to lose unless things change.

When it comes to issues like suicide and depression we're not the best at handling them. We’re like a group of grown men standing around and it’s not until one of them poops their pants that everyone says “gee, I better go to the bathroom.” We can't wait until the next life is taken from us before we deal with depression and mental illness again.

If you’re experiencing depression or thoughts of suicide, you’re not alone. You can get help. There are people all around you who will love and support you. Don’t keep it bottled up inside. Don’t ignore it.

If Robin Williams, one of the funniest/joyful/kindest men, can be affected by it, anyone can.

We were all so shocked when we heard the news yesterday. You never know what someone else is going through. Let that influence how we treat everyone we come in contact with in our lives.

We can’t let this issue only come up when it takes another life.

 

Nanu nanu