Holding up the hands of those who are tired

I read earlier this week on Twitter of the death by suicide of a young pastor, who had himself been a leading charge about speaking out on the importance of talking about mental illness, depression, and suicide, and destigmatizing the shame that comes with that for many people.

Sometimes we speak most passionately about the things that hit closest to home for us because of our own experiences, or those of the ones we love.

I was shocked to see some very harsh comments from a person, directed at the person posting about the pastor’s death, with their opinion that the writer should not be saying the pastor was in Heaven when he was not, because he had committed suicide. Many people responded to the harshness of that response, and the person commented again, saying that the knowledge that a person wouldn’t go to Heaven if they committed suicide might keep someone else who was considering the act from doing so.

I had to read that comment twice because my first response was, surely one person cannot be that clueless. Turns out he is, I guess, because it read the same the second time I read it.

My first thought was I hope nobody you love ever struggles with depression or suicidal ideations because they are surely not going to get the support that they need from you. My second thought was I really hope somebody you love struggles with depression or suicidal ideations so that you will catch a clue that you have NO idea what you are talking about, and the damage that you are capable of doing by saying the things that you say.

I’ve been saddened each time since that I have seen someone post an article about the death of the young pastor. Then on Twitter again a few days later, I saw reference to attacks by another person on the dead pastor, this time by a fellow pastor. I just saw red at that point for so many reasons. First of all, to my knowledge, neither of these know-it-alls has been to Heaven and taken an inventory of who all was there and how they died. Neither has had a face to face conversation with God about this very issue. And certainly neither one of them has EVER had a deep, honest, and vulnerable discourse with a person who has struggled with persistent thoughts of suicide, because if they had, they would understand without question that it is exhausting and heartbreaking and that when that person has fought with everything they have to resist those thoughts.

Somehow I doubt that the people who say that a person who commits suicide will not go to Heaven would also say that someone who chooses to discontinue cancer treatment or someone who declines extraordinary lifesaving measures will not. And yet, because the disease we are talking about is one of a psychological rather than an obvious physiological one, people treat it as if it’s not the same.

A number of years ago there was a mother in my county who, suffering severe postpartum depression, cut off the arms of her baby. As the investigation unfolded, it became clear that prior to that event, she had struggled with post-partum depression to the point of psychosis, with both her pastor and her husband discouraging her from any type psychological or pharmaceutical intervention. They both felt that if she just prayed more or had more faith, she would be healed. I’m sure that gives her great comfort on the backside of the action that took her child’s life and with which she will have to wake up remembering each day for the rest of her life.

The stigma and shame about mental illness and depression and suicide must stop. In society. In our schools. In our homes. And most of all, in our churches. Our churches should be the places where more than anyplace else, we support each other and hold each other up. Where we talk about hard things, and we do hard things, and we support each other through the good times and the bad. Not a place where we point fingers and place blame and cast shame.

In the book of Exodus there is a story of a battle that Israel was engaged in. In the midst of the battle, Moses took Aaron and Hur, his brother and a close companion, to the top of a hill. As long as Moses held up his hand with the shepherd's rod of God in his hand, Israel would win the battle. But when he lowered his hand, Israel would begin to lose. Soon Moses' hands grew tired. And so Aaron and Hur took a stone and put it under Moses so he could sit down. And then Aaron and Hur held up the hands of Moses, one on each side of him, so that his hands remained steady despite his weariness, and Israel ultimately prevailed.

As Christ followers, it isn't our job to judge when someone grows too tired to hold up their hands anymore. It's our job to come alongside, place a stone under them so they can sit down, and hold up their hands, and keep them steady, until they are able to hold them again on their own. Because sometimes the battles in life are just to big too fight on our own. Sometimes we need someone else to hold up our hands.