Pain, Grief, and Suicide
There are a lot of emotions going through our community right now. Tragic accidents, deaths by suicide, and others coming to the end of their lives bring all kinds of grief and loss to heart.
I had the honor of presiding for the memorial service for Christopher Lothert, an eighth grader who died of suicide in our community, on Thursday. I call this an honor, because it takes a lot of trust for a family to welcome someone they don't know into their lives at a tremendously vulnerable and painful moment.
I wanted to share with all of you an excerpt of what I said to them that day, because those words are not just for them, but for all of us:
How could this have been allowed to happen?
It tears at us in ways that we can scarcely find words to describe. It ripples out, affecting the whole community - all the people that Chris touched with his beautiful life. From his family, to his friends, his teammates, his classmates - all of us are less because he has died. Chris meant so much to so many, and his death hurts us all.
What's more, Chris' death came as an expression of his own pain, a pain that most of us didn't even realize he was experiencing.
I won't sugar-coat this: There is real pain in this life, real suffering. What's worse: our society encourages people, especially young men, to hide their suffering, to swallow it down, to not let it show. That's not what it means to be a real man, but it's what a lot of young men have picked up along the way.
I don't think anyone can really tell us what exactly it was that pushed Chris to think that suicide was the only way to escape his pain.
It will do little good to try to point fingers and assign blame.
What our community needs most, at this very moment, is for us to come together, to share kindness and love and understanding, and to live in the hope of the Gospel. This world will disappoint and hurt us, but our Lord has overcome the world.
Let us be His people of light and grace, and hold out friendship and love as much as we can.
And if you are hurting, please reach out to me. My cell is 507-832-0099. You can call or text any time, day or night. I want to hear from you. I'll listen, and I won't judge.