The Rock

“I hate you!”

The words erupted from my lips with such force that my throat went dry and pulsed with pain. The cold metal of my 380 Keltec felt odd as it pressed into my temple. Especially since I was the one holding it in place. I’m not sure why I’d put my gun to my head when I’d felt so much rage toward Jerimiah. In retrospect, the only thing I can come up with is that I’d wanted to demonstrate the severity of my feelings.

We’d had our repeat argument. It was the kind of argument which had roots so deep and widespread it was nearly impossible to unearth the growth. And so it became more firmly entrenched. By the evening of April Fool’s Day 2013 (the launch date of my self-published book, Let Me Fall), I’d already researched my life insurance policy for a suicide exclusion and composed my suicide note. Fueled with rage and hopelessness from yet another episode of our repeat argument, I drove in the dark until I found myself in an empty parking lot. I examined the gun in my lap and willed myself to find the courage to end my misery.

“I’m a f*$%#!@ coward. Sorry for cussing. I’d do it if I just had a spine.” I turned to look at the Holy Spirit in the passenger seat. “I’m done with the book. It’s published. It’s out.” My eyes pooled with tears. “Can’t You just take me out now?”

“Of course I can—” He said before I cut Him off.

“Do it then.” I shoved my gun at Him and started crying harder. “I don’t—“ I gulped a breath. “—f*$%#!@ want to be alive anymore.” The force of my words caused hot spit to fling from my lips, but the sobs took over and I found I didn’t care.

Long moments passed before my hysterics subsided and I said, “Sorry for cussing again.” I heard the glove box click closed and figured the Holy Spirit tucked my gun inside. “Let’s get some air,” the Holy Spirit said. He walked around to the driver’s side and opened my door. Tucking my arm in His, He led the way down the lamp lit riverwalk path. He said nothing and the longer we walked, I realized the ridiculousness of it all—my earlier expletives and subsequent apologies to Him. How stupid, considering I was contemplating ending my life. My shoulders drooped a bit more.

The Holy Spirit stopped and leaned against the railing. He didn’t break His gaze on the water, but asked, “Why do you wish for death?”

Hearing that combination of words from His lips made me wince. Why did I? Mine and Jerimiah’s repeat argument was nothing convoluted—I had no doubt many married couples argued about the same issue.

I took a deep breath. “Because dealing with this conflict is too hard. We can’t seem to get past it. And when we argue I feel terribly alone and unlovable.”

“You think Jerimiah doesn’t love you anymore?” The Holy Spirit asked.

“No,” I said. I struggled to put my feelings into words. “I feel like I am unworthy of love. When we’re in the heat of an argument, I feel stupid, useless, and like I don’t deserve to be loved.” Hearing my confession made me wince.

The Holy Spirit’s deep voice cut through my pain. “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it. (Matthew 7:24-27)”

“What exactly are You trying to say?” The full realization of His words hit me and I rushed to speak again. “Wait—are You calling me a fool?”

The Holy Spirit reached for my phone. “You are no fool—” He said as He opened my Instagram feed and scrolled to a series of pictures. His eyes met mine before He handed my phone back. “—but you’ve been acting like one.”

As soon as my eyes dropped to the pictures, my breath caught in my throat. They were images I’d immortalized less than two months ago at my grandfather’s funeral. The night before heading down to Florida to be with my family, Jerimiah and I had fought hard. In the aftermath, I had laid in our guest bed, stared up at the popcorn ceiling and wished for death. We managed to put a band aid on things before I left, but I’d made the trip down oozing with my misery.

Though they knew nothing of my pain, my precious family opened my eyes to the truth. We spent the time before Grandpop’s funeral crying through old pictures and sharing stories. On the day of his funeral, I watched my grandmom and aunts stand in the aisle and weep as they stared at the face they would never again see in real life. Grandmom couldn’t seem to make herself stop touching his hands, and I will never forget the tender kisses she placed on his cold forehead.

Grandpop was 92 years old when he passed away, but the grief I’d witnessed was as sharp as losing someone in the prime of their life. Being a part of such visceral moments caused me to become stricken with horror over what I’d considered. My grandpop’s funeral became a snapshot of my own. It had forced me to step out of myself and experience what those who love me would feel if I acted on my pain.

“You’re right.” I said. “I have been acting like a fool. But—” My eyes filled with fresh tears. “—I don’t know how to stop.” I mumbled, “I don’t know if I can.”

“No human was meant to be your foundation. You cannot continue to find your identity and worth in Jerimiah. You’ve already been living that way and your house is nearly destroyed.” He paused and turned me to face Him. “Hear what I’m saying to you and do it. Then, when the conflict comes, the force of it will not move you because you are founded on Me.” His eyes searched mine. “When you’re angry and hopeless, cast your burdens on Me and I will sustain you (Psalm 55:22). When you don’t know how to move forward, ask Me for wisdom. I give generously to all without reproach (James 1:5). Come to Me when your heart is breaking and know that I am near you, I will deliver you, and I will give you rest. (Psalm 34:18 & Matthew 11:28-30). If you’ll ask believing I’ll do what I said, then I’ll be able to do what I do best.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Make good on My promises (1 Corinthians 1:9, Joshua 21:45, & Joshua 23:14).” He put His arm around my shoulders and I rested my head on Him. As I did, I noticed that the edges of the dawn were reflected on the glassy river and Isaiah 26:3-4 came to my mind. You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock.

An aside: The above conversation between me and the Holy Spirit is a summary of nearly a year of my life. Translation: I did not get to a healthy place overnight. This blog is not meant to suggest that anyone dealing with suicidal thoughts should go it alone. I reached out to my spiritual mentor and underwent counseling. If you, dear reader, are struggling with suicidal thoughts, I implore you to reach out and get help. You are not alone. You are loved.

National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 800-273-8255

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Posted in Spiritual-ish Musings and tagged argument, burdens, deliver, despair, fool, foundation, God, grief, Hope, hopelessness, identity, promise, rest, rock, suicide. on February 3, 2020.