Suicide Does Not Win

You’ve seen the movies.  You know, the one where someone is trapped in a sinking ship or submarine, the water is rising around them and they are frantically trying to find a way out.  There is a look of panic in their eyes as they thrash about hoping for a miracle.  Finding none, the stillness kicks in with the realization that very soon the water will replace the oxygen and the next breath they take will be their last.  What a terrifying, tragic death….being swallowed by the sea.  Surely when they set out on their journey, this scene was not in their mind.  This was not how the story was supposed to end.

I imagine Jon’s last six weeks of life to be like those last minutes in the movie scene.  Trapped in a room called depression, frantically searching for a way out, terrified as the water around him was rising.  Doctors, medications, therapy and prayer, so much prayer,  all pounding on the door desperately trying to find a way in and pull him out.  But he was on the inside.  All the help was on the outside of the door.  He felt alone.  As the water rose around him, his hope for being delivered was waning.  Finally, only inches of oxygen remained.  He was exhausted.  All hope was gone, and with his head tilted upward, he took his last breath and allowed the sea of bipolar depression to swallow him.  It was not meant to be this way.  This was not supposed to be the end of the story.  In my estimation, he gave up just as the rescuers were getting ready to tear down the door and hand him an oxygen mask.  But he couldn’t see any of that.  All he saw was the impending doom, the water rising, the oxygen dwindling and he felt hopeless and alone.  

Have you ever seen one of these movies and blamed the drowning person, or the rescuers fighting so hard to save them?  Have you ever thought, “Wow, what a selfish way to die.”  Of course not!  Do you look at the rescuers and say, “If only you had done more!  Didn’t you know he was going to die?”  No, your heart breaks for them as they swim to the surface knowing they failed.  How do they live with such immeasurable guilt and pain?  The whole situation is sad and tragic.  It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

I have come to know this feeling so well.  The heaviness of grief, the darkness of suicide, the overwhelming responsibilities of life are rising around me.  Where I once had a partner to assure me that help was coming, to pass me an oxygen mask, I now feel trapped and alone in this sinking ship.  It is terrifying and exhausting.  I haven’t shared this with anyone, but at the risk of sounding crazy, I’m going to write about it.  Chances are, there’s another widow, another mom who lost their child, another survivor of suicide out there who understands.  As I was driving not too long ago, having a particularly bad day, I became obsessed with the thought that maybe I would have a wreck, maybe today could be the day that I would die.  The thought didn’t scare me at all, in fact, it felt like a welcome relief.  I began to imagine driving into oncoming traffic or sailing off the side of an overpass.  It even occurred to me that my children would be better off.  I’m having such a hard time providing for them, but in my death, they’d have life insurance money, be able to pay for college and pursue their dreams.  I’m just keeping it real, Y'all.  I'm not in that place now, but these were my thoughts on a very dark day.  

So why didn’t I do it?  I’m no better than, no different than my husband.  He was the strongest, most faith-filled man I ever knew, especially his last 2 years of life.  Things were going well for us.  So why was he swallowed by the sea while I sit here alive and typing away at my computer?  I’m going to say the difference is the disease.  Bi-polar Depression is an evil monster that devours.  It is like cancer of the thoughts.  And as hard as he fought, the cancer grew.  I don’t blame him for dying.  I blame the disease.  The disease is part of the fallen world in which we live temporarily.  Temporarily being the keyword.  

The fact is, every life comes with a death sentence.  These bodies weren’t designed to last forever; they were designed to last for a season.  Eventually, each of us will succumb to a physical death.  And the fact is, when you know what is on the other side, death can look like a welcome relief.  I long to be in the arms of Jesus and Jon again.  I long to walk the streets of gold, laughing with my brother.  I can’t wait to get to know my grandfather.  I long to be free of the pain and suffering that come with this life, BUT I BELIEVE God has me here for a purpose.  

I have often wished for life to be different….until today.  If I wish for it to be different, then I deny that God is sovereign and guiding each step I take.  If I wish for a different life, then I may miss the purpose He has for this one.  I don’t want to miss it.  I want to be fully used in every way He designed.  I want to wear myself out speaking the truth, loving every person He puts in my path and ministering hope to the world.  Somehow my tragic love story is part of the plan.  The parts that hurt are actually making me stronger.  The parts that feel weakest are where He will show the most strength.  

When I have achieved what He planned, when the time is His, He will take me home.  Until then, as the water rises around me, I will cling to the hope that help is on the way.  The Lord is just about to bust down the door and hand me an oxygen mask.  Just as the Israelites were delivered from the hands of the Egyptians, God is parting the waters for me.  Just as He allowed Jonah to be swallowed by the whale, He also rescued Him.  Just as He allowed Daniel to be thrown in the lion’s den, He also shut their mouths.  In each story, God is the hero.  And believe it or not, He was still the hero in Jon’s.  God gave Jon enough strength and enough hope to take him to April 11, 2017, and then He allowed the sea to swallow him as he welcomed him with open arms and said, “Ok, my son, that’s enough.  Come on home.”  I think of all the writings Jon left behind and how much I am learning from them.  I think of the beautiful memories we made.  We have a tendency to make people saints in death, but the truth is our flaws speak more to the goodness of God.  Someday I will share the whole story.  It is a tough one, but in the end, Jesus is the hero and God wins.  Suicide does not win.  Cancer does not win.  Heart disease does not win.  Murder does not win.  Car wrecks do not win.  For the believer, God wins…..every time!  No matter what takes you out of this life, God wins.  Whatever struggles and trials bring you down, God is winning.  Hold onto hope.  Keep breathing.  He is kicking down the door as we speak.