It’s winter now. Not full winter. It’s snowed a few times (it snowed a little today), but there’s no accumulation to speak of—yet. Winter has been sneaking up on us in an Avoidant manner—hanging around the edge of the conversation, gradually making its presence known without drawing too much attention to itself. But today was seriously cold. And naturally I began to have trouble with the starter on my car. Not the usual kind of trouble, but the peculiar variety that goes with the Chevy Tracker’s idiosyncratic ignition system, which involves tramping down on the clutch while turning the key.
Ah well.
Rev. Paul T. McCain of Cyberbrethren wrote a moving and thoughtful post the other day on the subject of suicide. A friend of his took his life recently, and in meditating on it, Rev. McCain quoted a statement of Luther’s I’d never read before. This is part of it:
“I don’t share the opinion that suicides are certainly to be damned. My reason is that they do not wish to kill themselves but are overcome by the power of the devil. They are like a man who is murdered in the woods by a robber. . . .”
This was one of many statements of Luther’s they never told us about in the church I grew up in. We were taught the view (which, I believe, used to be taught by the Roman Catholic Church as well) that suicide left one with no opportunity to repent of the sin of murder, and therefore could not be forgiven. This view doesn’t actually jibe very well with Lutheran grace-centered theology, but that never occurred to me.
It must be a great comfort to the families of suicides to believe this, and I’m glad of that.
But I have reservations, too. (If you’ve recently lost a friend or family member to suicide, I recommend not following on to the portion of this post below the fold. It might upset you, and I have no wish to do that. I want to consider an argument here, not rub salt in wounds.)
I suffer (as you know if you’ve been reading this blog for any time) from chronic, persistent depression—depression that has not responded either to drugs or (in the long term) to counseling.
I know what it’s like to contemplate suicide—to be convinced with all your heart that nothing good will ever happen to you again and that prolonging your life will only prolong your pain, as well as the harm that (you are convinced) you constantly do to others.
For someone like that, sometimes the only thing keeping you back from suicide is fear.
For someone like that, reducing the fear is not necessarily an act of kindness.
So it seems we’ve got a choice between a hard doctrine that helps to save would-be suicides’ lives, and a soft doctrine that comforts actual suicides’ bereaved friends and families.
I suppose the proper solution to the conundrum is, “Preach the doctrine that’s true.”
But I’m not sure which is.
Though I’m leaning toward Luther’s position just now.
Which scares me a little.
(For the record, I’m speaking theoretically here. This is not to be interpreted as meaning that I’m contemplating suicide at the moment.)
Well, I’ve been there. Having responsibilities for and to others has been a real bulwark for me a times.
Besides, it is a deeply nasty thing to do to the people who love you.
I think God’s mercy is wider and deeper than our understanding of it; someone who is consumed by an imbalance in their brain chemistry can hardly be said to have generated the will to sin.
I think despair is the sinful element of suicide; the belief that even God cannot help in our extremity; it is a rejection of God’s love. And there are suicides whose death is a rejection of God in deep and profound ways.
The current RC Chatechism says not to despair of the possibility of eternal salvation for those who have suicided–“By ways known to Him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance.
Soon after I moved, the church I attended got a new pastor. A few years after that, he shot himself in a gully outside of town — three times. This was a reformed church, so there was much debate over the relevance of the doctrine of the perseverence of the saints. The associate pastor (who remains a good friend) once said, “All I know is that when he pulled that trigger he put me in hell.”
Like Aitchmark commented above, when considered carefully the effects on others can stay a suicide’s hand.
P.S. An addition: Lars, we like you. Stick around, okay?
So it seems we’ve got a choice between a hard doctrine that helps to save would-be suicides’ lives, and a soft doctrine that comforts actual suicides’ bereaved friends and families.
I suppose the proper solution to the conundrum is, “Preach the doctrine that’s true.”
But I’m not sure which is.
I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be. God wants to help save would-be suicide’s lives, and comfort the actual suicides’ bereaved friends and families. By hiding the truth from us, He achieves both.
But as for you, breathe in. Now breathe out. If you can do both of those things, then God still have something He wants you to do. He’ll probably forgive you for not doing it, but He does know best.
I suppose I can always serve as a Cautionary Example.
You could – but I’m pretty sure God has a better job for you. I’m writing this as a Jew, who believes that it’s really really hard to get eternally damned. Harder than it is to get one’s loving parents(1) to never want to see you or hear from you again.
There’s plenty of time to be with God later, in fact an eternity of it. Might as well stay here and do whatever it is God sent you down here for.
(1) Even the most loving parents aren’t as loving as God.
I think I agree with Luther. The devil rejoices in death and pain, no matter how small. Sometimes I take comfort in the idea that my struggle with him means I’m honoring the Lord in my life, obeying His will at least enough to cause me more trouble. But even if that’s be bit too much to believe, I do think our lives alone are offensive to the one who would be God. He can go to hell, and he’s not taking me with him.
Perhaps the proper solution is to accept that we ourselves cannot be sure about these matters. That leaves us with both fear and hope. Luther didn’t believe that “suicides are certainly to be damned.” But he didn’t say that they certainly are not either. Any uncertainty about the outcome ought to serve as a deterrent to suicide for those who have the capacity to make a choice.
When someone does commit suicide in circumstances like what Luther described, surely it is right to hold out hope to the family. Hope, but perhaps not certainty. Only God knows.
Another blogger has posted a fuller quote from Luther that addresses your concerns, Lars.
Excellent point.
Over a decade ago my husband had to clean up after a nearly successful suicide attempt of his brother’s.
Last year his brother died in his sleep while in his early forties.
This caused me to ponder if suicide might not only be a one-time lethal event, but possibly include a series of poor choices that, in the end, take one more slowly although still be ones own hand.
I wish that depression wasn’t so depressing.