I worked in the mental health world for about 3 years. In that time I learned something that was invaluable to me. I had always thought that a person who took their own life was selfish and tragic. I always asked why someone would do that to their families and friends. How they could not know they were loved?
One very wise doctor talked to me when I lost my first patient to suicide. He said, you have to understand, as one that was left behind when this person took their life, They were not able, due to their own illness to think outside of themselves, their own pain, hoplessness and desparation. The cannot picture their families in mourning. They cannot imagine that life without them is somehow less than life with them. They cannot look outside themselves and see the positive impact of continuing to live.
It is an illness. Not the fault of anyone for not seeing, for not hearing, for not calling or stopping by more often. It is not because they were unloved, but felt unlovable.
As a Christian I hate suicide. I hate the finality of an eternity without Christ. As much as I would like to believe that God would judge those less harshly that simply "couldn't take anymore", my faith tells me that he planned my life, he knew me before conception, my life is precious to him, he wants me with him eternally.
My body is a temple, I am to care for it because it is made in his image. It is his gift to me. And as unworthy as I am, he gave his only son to die for my sin. A blameless sacrifice to allow him to look upon my face and hold out his arms and welcome me home to him, as any father would.
Christ takes up our burdens, lights our way in the darkness, heals our infirmities, and fills all the empty holes we allow him in. But he is also a gentleman and will not go where he is not invited and welcomed. When he is with us nothing can come against us. When he is not, we can not.
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