I didn’t know loss. Not like some of my friends.
Oh, I’ve lost grandparents and even some friends. The pain is real. Grief is heavy. But those losses can generally be explained. They had cancer, they were old, etc.
No, what I had experienced paled in comparison to those who face the deep, gut-wrenching, can’t put one foot in front of the other, “Why did this happen, God?” kind of loss.
The loss that never goes away. The kind that can’t be replaced. The kind that lingers day after day, and with every holiday, anniversary, conversation, or TV show that talks about it. And you can’t even come to terms with the word because the word itself invokes the pain.
Suicide.
No, I didn’t know that kind of loss. That is, until…
It was the wee hours of July 8, 2016, when I received the call.
I was seven months pregnant with a toddler still sleeping soundly in her crib, so I settled into my armchair for my morning quiet time, hoping to steal a few moments of peace before the monitor next to me chirped with my second-morning alarm.
Before I could get too comfortable, my cell’s caller ID lit up with the name of a friend I hadn’t heard from in a while. My “Good morning” greeting trailed off with trepidation as I could sense a heaviness on the other end of the line.
I’m not sure I actually took a breath for what seemed like several minutes as she began recounting the events of the night before. “He took his life. He’s with Jesus now,” she uttered quietly as tears began to flow freely.
I must have screamed louder than I realized as I heard my daughter’s panicked cries coming from her room through the monitor. I had woken her up in a startle as I attempted to process what I had just been told, my head and my heart in complete disbelief.
Joshua, who for all intents and purposes may as well have been my godson, was gone. The once little boy who I sat on the couch with during college and watched A Bug’s Life (Lasseter, Stanton. 1998.) every afternoon, the freckle-faced kid who cried when I moved away to take a new job when he was just four, and the talented young man who had only recently graduated and was about to embark on his college career, ended his life for reasons we still can’t fully understand to this day.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3
Life changed for me that hot summer morning. Not nearly as much as my friends’ lives who had just lost their son. I cannot fathom the depth of their grief. But my awareness of mental health changed that day. I could no longer turn a blind eye to someone suffering or pretend that I didn’t notice someone’s subtle cries for help.
No one should.
September is National Suicide Prevention Month. Did you know that? I sure didn’t. Not until this epidemic became all too real to me.
Recent studies show that suicide rates and mental illness have increased across many age groups, with some alarming trends, especially among younger individuals and older adults. In 2023, 36.2% of young adults aged 18 to 25 experienced a mental health issue, which is significantly higher than any other adult age group. Among teens aged 12 to 17, just under 20% experienced a major depressive episode in the past year. These trends have been linked to social isolation, academic pressure, and the lingering effects of the COVID-19 pandemic.
According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), the highest suicide rates in 2022 were observed among people aged 85 and older, marking a troubling spike in this age group. Older adults often face increased isolation and loneliness, which are significant risk factors for suicide. That same year, the U.S. saw more than 49,000 suicides, representing a rise back to pre-pandemic levels. This followed a slight dip in 2018-20 but reflects the ongoing mental health crisis fueled by chronic stress, trauma, and inadequate access to care.
The pandemic's long-term effects, workforce shortages in mental health care, and increased social isolation are reported to be among the major contributors to these troubling statistics.
How do family and friends even begin to put the pieces of their lives back together? If God is good, why does He allow this to happen? Is He sovereign, even over this?
“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:26-28
Being comforted, then, by God’s Word, it’s almost natural to move from sorrow to activism. The weight of the loss is still there, but God enables us through the power of the Holy Spirit to want to help others.
How can we know the signs? What can we do to prevent and intervene?
Facing the same questions and the need to do something, Jamie Tworkowski founded To Write Love On Her Arms in 2006. TWLOHA is a “nonprofit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire, and invest directly into treatment and recovery.”
Additionally, the 988 National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is free and available to everyone in the U.S. Their #BeThe1To campaign arms advocates to ask, be there, keep them safe, help them stay connected, and follow up with those we are concerned about in an effort to intervene and provide support early on.
While these and many other national and local resources are wonderful and very much needed, I would go a step further and urge the Church in America to open its eyes to the growing pandemic of mental illness.
Yes, prayer and scripture reading are essential to a healthy mind and spirit, but there are times when we must all admit more is needed. Christians, in particular, ought to be able to depend on their local church body for support. Pastors and other church leaders should be equipped to guide church-goers to the help they need, whether medical or otherwise, and hold their hand along the way.
Simply telling someone you “will pray for them” is not enough. It’s past time to get involved—to step into someone’s “messy”—to be the Church.
What will you do today? Would you start by praying for God to soften your heart and direct you along the path to advocacy? The very lives of our friends, family, co-workers, and neighbors depend on it.
Today, I advocate in loving memory of Joshua.
Never forgotten.
Photo Credit: ©iStock/Getty Images Plus/simpson33
Rebecca Barrack is a two-time graduate of Florida State University and is enjoying her second career in life, working at Christian Care Ministry / Medi-Share for more than 7 years, now as the Manager of Communications. When not working, Rebecca enjoys Bible study, catching up with friends over tea, and cheering on her two girls at the ballfield/in the gym.