Being a therapist, the word “suicide” is a regular in my vocabulary; and yet, despite its common occurrence, it’s still a word filled with much fear, unease, apprehension and mystery.

Psychologists can tell you nowadays the risk factors, the warning signs, what to look for, how to speak to someone who is suicidal, but, there is still so much we do not know. The secular world emphasizes physiological, environmental and social factors; the religious, the spiritual life. More times than not, there’s an array of factors influencing one’s tendency towards suicidal ideation, and one’s likelihood of following through with a plan.

Fear doesn’t deter, however, it constricts; fear leads to shame, and shame separates and divides. It essentially keeps us apart from sharing our pain and struggle.

Suicide has always been a subject that has torn at my heartstrings. Even as a pre-teen, I remember reading a story in Chicken Soup for the Soul that showed the power of kindness and friendship in turning a possibly devastating ending into a success when a young teen befriended an isolated peer at school. Graduating as valedictorian of his class, the isolated teen shared in his speech that on the day he planned to attempt suicide, another student had befriended him, and turned his life around. Stories such as these are beautiful, and perhaps more common than we think. However, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become less naive in believing in the simplicity of causes and solutions to suicide. For some cases, it may really be that simple, such as increasing social connection. For other cases,, it can be much more complex.

David Foster Wallace, an American writer, who struggled with suicidal ideation and attempts, and finally took his own life in 2008 explained the battle this way:  

the so-called “psychotically depressed” person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of “hopelessness” or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling “Don’t!” and “Hang on!”, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.

The person in whom its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise.

The first time I read that description I had goosebumps on my arms. Never have I read something so poignant, so devastatingly painful, describing the agony of suicide. Descriptions like these are important in order for us to enter into a world we may or may not understand firsthand. I hear it so often: fellow therapists say, “iif only they had access to mental health services, while Christians say “if only they had a better relationship with God.” And while these statements may be true, I think it’s more important to recognize the complexity of suicide. There are MANY factors, and ultimately the person thinking of or attempting suicide is in a lot of pain.

The Church makes it very clear that suicide is a sin, one of the most serious at that. In fact, historically a funeral has been denied to those who committed suicide, perhaps in an attempt to show that this sin is no joke, and in the hopes in deterring the tempted. Fear doesn’t deter, however, it constricts; fear leads to shame, and shame separates and divides. It essentially keeps us apart from sharing our pain and struggle.

If I imagine a man in a trapped burning building, as Wallace explained, negotiating about whether to burn or jump, I’m not sure telling him it is WRONG to jump would stop him. I’m not sure telling him he will go to hell will stop him.

What I do know is that before we start to judge and condemn, we need to humble ourselves enough to recognize what we do not know and understand, and anchor ourselves in the love and grace of God.

I don’t believe being punitive and judgmental should be our approach to suicide. Instead, I wonder if it’s more important to meet each person where they are at, to tell them that it’s okay to be hurting and struggling, to tell them that God loves them just the same, and their struggle is something God doesn’t condemn; in fact, he understands. Suicidal thoughts are not a crisis of faith; they are a product of a very complicated, painfully broken world.

The Bible is filled with many characters who struggled with suicide. In the Old Testament, Ahithophel hanged himself after betraying David ( 2 Samuel 17:23) and Saul killed himself after being injured in battle (1 Samuel 31:4-5). Others struggled with suicidal thoughts, but never acted out. Those included Job  (Job 6:8-11), Elijah (2 Kings 19:2-4), Jeremiah  (Jeremiah 20:14-18), and Jonah (Jonah 4:3-8)

In the New Testament, Judas is the most famous for hanging himself following the betrayal of Jesus (Matthew 27:3-5), but even Paul, a man filled with so much faith, had his moments, noting it would be comfortable for him to die than to continue living (Philippians 1:19-25). Jesus himself knew the agony of this life, filled with so much despair and anguish, he cried tears of blood awaiting his crucifixion (Luke 22:44).

Pain and struggle are central themes throughout the Bible, and Jesus was a “man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” (Isaiah 53:3), someone we can look to for relatability and understanding. He welcomed the adulterers, He welcomed the tax collectors, and surely He would have welcomed the suicidal.

I don’t have any answers that haven’t already been said before, but I do believe that we have to have a holistic approach to understanding and treating suicide. This involves all realms of the self, from the biological to the spiritual. What I do know is that before we start to judge and condemn, we need to humble ourselves enough to recognize what we do not know and understand, and anchor ourselves in the love and grace of God. More than anything, we are called to love one another, and in doing so, others will be safe enough to share their thoughts, many of which before actually resorting in often times shame in taking their own lives.

Jennifer Ghobreyal works as a licensed mental health therapist at the California State University, San Bernardino, where she also received her Master’s. She has passion for mental health and removing the stigma of psychological disorders. In her free time, she loves to read, cook, and spend time with her husband, family and friends.

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