I was saddened when I learned that a friend from many years ago committed suicide. I’ll call him Larry. Larry’s depression, and his shocking death, had come as a surprise to friends and family.
I remembered a time when I was in the same place—very sad and suicidal. For months I had been spiraling downward. Nobody—my loving wife, my family, my friends—was able to shake me out of it.
At home alone one day, I knew that if I got up from my chair, I would go into the closed garage and start the car. I didn’t want to be a suicide victim; in fact, I was terrified of it. But I didn’t want to be depressed, either. Actually, I had always thought that I’d had the ability to see the good side of a situation, to joke, to take the optimist’s point of view. Now I was feeling helpless, sucked down and down in despair. My natively sunny disposition wasn’t kicking in.
The final straw was the raise—or should I say, the very small raise.
The final straw was the raise—or should I say, the very small raise. I had opened my pay envelope the day before, knowing that I was going to get something, and what I saw was a figure that didn’t even keep pace with inflation. I thought, Gee, another year of being unappreciated.
All I could think of was how hard I’d worked, of the recognition I’d brought my employer, and that in return, I was being kicked in the teeth. To make matters worse, my wife was out of town that weekend on business. There was nobody in the house with me except the cat, and even his purring didn’t give me much comfort! I felt that there was some kind of force compelling me to poison myself with carbon monoxide.
Desperate, I telephoned a friend. Since it was early Saturday morning, I must have wakened him, but he was lucid, thank God. I began to list everything that was depressing me. My friend interrupted my tale of woe before I got to the suicide part, saying, “Lamentations 3:22, and I’ll talk to you later today.” He hung up.
Maybe he’d invite me out for pancakes and we would kvetch together Well! I thought I was going to get sympathy. That maybe he’d invite me out for pancakes and we would kvetch together.
Since there was no such invitation, I went to my Bible to look up the passage he had mentioned. He wasn’t being entirely heartless—he knew I was accustomed to finding inspiration there. Here’s what I found that morning: “It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.”
Seeing those words started a change in me that ultimately saved my life. They caused me to be aware that right then, at 6:30 Saturday morning, God’s mercies were new for me, that God had not abandoned me, and that I was not going to be consumed. I began to feel surrounded and comforted by the motherly love of God.
I thought of a plate after a big dinner.
I thought of a plate after a big dinner. You see the remnants of your dinner, not the nice pattern underneath. But when you wash and rinse it, it’s clean again. The grime never altered the plate. It is still that pretty dish.
I felt clean again. It wasn’t so much a case of God keeping me from falling off the cliff. It was as though I had awakened to realize that there was never an abyss in God’s kingdom for me to fall into. I felt secure, loved and happy.
I didn’t try to kill myself that day, or any other day since. True, the business of my life didn’t change right away. I still had the minuscule salary increase, and I worked for that outfit for several more years until a better offer came along. But what did change was my awareness of God’s continual presence. That awareness was renewed for me that morning. I stopped feeling worthless.
During the next several years, I grew a lot in character, and when that great new job came along, I put everything into practice that I’d learned. I enjoyed rapid progress and an excellent “corridor reputation.”
So, when I heard about my friend Larry’s suicide, I took some time from the office routine to pray, to listen to what God was telling me about Larry. Because of my own experience, I had gained some slight insight into God’s mercies. I realized that wherever Larry is, he isn’t separated from those mercies. Even though he isn’t with us any more, Larry is loved by God. This comforts me, and I hope it’s comforting his family.
Article by Jeremy Carper
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