the fire journey

I spent months without telling anyone. I was planning to die in October, and it was a secret that only I knew. I kept it locked away, the secret that I was sick, the secret that I was broken, the secret that I was going to shoot myself. With each day that passed it grew darker and darker in my mind. I was consumed by it because I was alone. I was alone because nobody knew. And nobody knew because I was afraid to tell.

Perhaps Matthew West’s song Truth Be Told tells it the best: “Lie number one: You’re supposed to have it all together. And when they ask how you’re doing just smile and tell them ‘never better.’ Lie number two: everybody’s life is perfect except yours. So leave your messes and your wounds and your secrets safe with you behind closed doors. Truth be told, the truth is rarely told.”

The truth is rarely told. How many people are struggling in silence because they are afraid of the reaction they might get if they open up about what is going on in their life? This not only goes for mental health but for anything we might be facing. For me personally, the fear of judgment and rejection is a beast and often used to keep me from sharing what was really going on. For others of us it might be fear of being a burden, the fear of our pain being invalidated or minimized, or fear due to negative past experiences. The list goes on and on.

But if there’s anywhere that these fears shouldn’t exist, it’s in the Church. And there should be no pressure to have it all together. Jesus didn’t say “Follow me and your life will be perfect.” He said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) He didn’t say, “It’s every man for himself, so good luck.” He said, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12) In other words, the Church should be a place of healing, a place of openness, and a place where fear of judgement is the furthest thing from our minds when it comes to sharing our struggles. Because the truth is, it’s no secret that everyone is suffering. And we need to stop acting like it is.

How often have you heard the phrases, “Just choose joy”, “If you just had more faith…”, “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle”, or “You should pray more.” Answers like these are never helpful to someone who is struggling with their mental health – or with any pain or heartache they are experiencing. Not only is it frustrating to hear, but it can be downright invalidating and belittling of our problems when we are told these things. What is helpful is when someone responds with grace and understanding. Letting them know you are there if they need someone to talk to, reminding them that it is ok to be struggling, or simply being willing to listen are just a few of the many ways of encouraging someone. Sometimes just listening is one of the best things you can do.

So perhaps the best place to start is right here: being honest with ourselves about how we are really doing, being honest with those around us, and giving our brothers and sisters the space to be honest as well. Steve Austin, author of Hiding In The Pews, says, “Loving like Jesus is giving people space to feel whatever it is they’re going through. Loving like Jesus means sitting with others in their darkness. The only way to truly love our neighbor is to show up and let them know they are safe to heal here.” It’s that simple.

Keeping suicidality a secret almost killed me, and up until then I didn’t know just how dangerous staying silent about our struggles could really be. I ended up getting admitted to a mental hospital, and one of the best things that happened in that turn of events was really what felt like the worst at the time: I was forced to be open about the struggle to my family, which led to me being open about it within my church. Since then, the most healing thing I have experienced has been the support I have found through the people around me. And most importantly, I’m still alive.

Honesty and openness can start right now, but we must be willing to take chances. We must be willing to love and to be loved. If we within the Church are willing to not only be vulnerable ourselves, but allow others to do the same, I truly believe that it will be worth it.