the fire journey

(Trigger warning: this post discusses the topic of suicide and self-harm. If you are currently struggling with these or are troubled by them in any way, feel free to skip this post.)

In some Christian circles, bringing up the topic of suicidality is like opening a can of worms, because many people don’t know what to do with it. I have heard some claim that suicidality is selfish. Some claim that it signifies a lack of hope in Jesus. Some claim that suicide is an unforgiveable sin and that anyone who commits suicide goes to hell. But as I touched on in my previous post, “Depression and Faith”, these claims are rooted in misunderstanding and ignorance.

Before I go any further, let me add that everything written here comes from my own experience of suicidal thoughts and urges, acknowledging that not everyone’s experience is the same and everyone’s journey takes different turns. There are a lot of lies and misunderstandings surrounding the topic of suicide, and I’m hoping that this post can shed some light on a subject that many people are afraid to talk about.

This October marks two years since the season I was suicidal with a plan in place. It was the darkest time of my life, a time during which the state of my mental health was affecting my physical health in a way that it genuinely felt like if I didn’t end up carrying out my plan to kill myself, I would waste away anyway. I was in a very dark pit, struggling with deep anxiety, bipolar moodswings, very little sleep, self-harm, and my deadly secret that I was going to shoot myself. My mind, body, and heart were under enormous strain, and every hour of every day was a struggle.

I would not say that I wanted to kill myself. What I wanted was for the pain to stop, and the infernal lie that suicide was the only way for that to happen had burrowed its way so deeply into my brain that I could think of no other way out. It became the only thing that made sense. This, along with the skewed belief that I was a burden to the people that loved me, was enough to fuel my plan.

What I would come to understand later is this: the idea that suicide is the only option is a lie straight out of Hell. There is always another way, even when it doesn’t look like it from our viewpoint. God can bring healing into our lives through people, medication, therapy, prayer, and many other ways.

But there were also other things I would come to understand, such as the many lies that surround the subject of suicidality within Christian circles.

One of those lies is that suicidality is selfish. More often than not, people who are considering killing themselves actually believe they are a burden to the people around them. Of course, anyone who has ever loved someone who was suicidal would say that their loved one is not a burden, and they would do everything in their power to keep them on earth. But to the mentally-ill mind, suicide can feel like a very self-less thing to do, because it is removing the perceived burden from the people they love.

Another lie is that people who consider suicide must not be Christians, because they don’t have enough hope in Jesus. This line of thinking puts a major barrier between those who live with mental illness and those who don’t, because we are not the ones to judge who is “really saved” and who isn’t. We are called to love all people. Regardless of their religion, their ethnicity, their social status, their mental health – we are to love them. Period. Suspicion, or even assumption, that mentally ill Christians are not actually Christians – is that really loving them?  

A third lie is that Christians should not need medication for their mental health, as it downplays the power of faith and prayer. Sarah J. Robinson, author of the book I Love Jesus, But I Want to Die, covers this excellently. She writes this:

“There’s a dangerous double-standard when it comes to mental health care. We don’t say people lack faith when they depend on life-saving medications like insulin for diabetes, an inhaler for asthma, or an EpiPen for extreme allergic reactions. And we certainly don’t shame them for talking to doctors about their illnesses. We are grateful that our family members receive good medical treatment and that we live in a world where things that used to kill many people are now very manageable. But perhaps because we still don’t think of mental illnesses as real diseases, many believers don’t see it the same way. We are more hesitant to thank God for the lifesaving medications that prevent tragic deaths by suicide. We suddenly develop amnesia, forgetting how often the Lord works through the knowledge and wisdom he’s given to humankind.”

The Church, as the Body of Christ, should be a place of safety and healing, a place for those who have nowhere else to go. It is up to us to form a proper understanding of hard topics like suicidality and the mental illnesses that can cause it. We can’t be afraid to talk about it, we can’t be afraid to encounter it in our everyday lives, and we can’t avoid the subject – because for those of us who struggle with it and look for support within our community, it’s a matter of life or death.