When God asks us to stay in the suffering a little while longer

Michael committed suicide two a half years ago. He had lived with my husband and I for the 16 months prior to that Saturday, June 28th. I suppose that day should not have come as such a shock. Warning us, he told us several times, “this will end in my suicide. . . I don’t want to tell you that, but it will. I’m so mad at myself for moving here and letting you love me. . . cuz I never wanted to hurt you.” I knew and truly believed that Michael was wrong. My ending to his time with us was much, much different. And after all, if we were going to take the risk of loving him – surely, God would do what He does – heal people, change hearts, change lives. Right? And so in March of 2013, we started the journey of loving someone very, very lovable. Michael didn’t make it hard.

However. The ever-looming giant “However”. After about 13 months, Ryan and I had grown ready. Ready for many things. Ready to be done – ready to not knock on Michael’s door and open it to find him still in bed at 11:00 am. Ready to not find the cereal we had bought yesterday gone, because Michael had gone on an eating frenzy in the middle of the night. Ready to be able to walk from our bathroom to the laundry room buck naked if we wanted to. Ready to not care if my bra was hanging up in the bathroom or not. Ready to not feel guilty for going out to eat as a family and not inviting Michael – the 34-year-old who had had a life full of suffering (the kind of suffering that makes you question the goodness of God).  Ready to not worry that Michael's dreams/hallucinations would become something more. Ready to be able to lose my cool with the kids or my husband and not have an audience. Ready to not have a semi-believer/believer see our sin every day. . . ready to be able to hide behind the façade of a white picket fence and smiles on our faces on Sunday. We were ready for Michael to be healed of his depression and his mental illness. It wasn’t supposed to take this long for God to do His miracle that I was so sure He was going to perform. We hadn’t signed up for the long haul. “Lord, what exactly were You doing? Did you think we could do this. . . this long??? Do you still see us??”

And so. . . we did what any good Christian couple knows to do. We sought counsel of several individually and then we called a meeting of many of Michael’s closest friends/counselors/our friends. We made sure the details of the meeting would never be found out by Michael – we didn’t even want him to know there ever was a meeting. We had it at my mother-in-law’s home. Nothing unusual – just told him we were going to Nana’s for the evening. Didn’t mention the fact that we were going there to decide his very near future. . . because, after all . . . we were ready.

And although verses that contradicted everything that was said that evening at the meeting came to mind over and over. . . the month prior to and for the three months after the meeting – we went with it. We went with the advice of truly wise friends. That night we heard things like, “You guys have done enough. . . you’ve done more than I’d be able to do. . . he’s 34 and it’s time to push him a little harder. . . it’s time. . . it’s time. . . it’s time.”

What time exactly was it? Was it really the right time to tell Michael that he needed to move out? Was it really time to be yet another family who decides he’s too much to handle? Too inconvenient? Too much work? Too much sadness? Too hard to love day in and day out when there was no lasting progress on his part? Was it really time to give in to the temptation to just rest again – to have peace in our home again?

And so – now I sit 2 ½ years later at 2:00 am – and I wouldn’t say that our decision led to rest and peace in our home. A few days after that meeting, my husband took Michael out to breakfast and
told him that we wanted to see him try harder to reach his goals and so we were going to give him a date – 3 months out – that he needed to have another living arrangement prepared.

And that ominous date, the date that my husband and I chose – the date that we had hoped he would be moving in to an apartment - became the date on his death certificate, the exact date. Michael had told me several times, “the day that I leave here, will be the day that I finally do it. I’ll die the day I move out.” And Michael didn’t lie. He really didn’t. You wouldn’t think that someone with mental illness as severe as he had, would care if he lied, but he did care. He didn’t want to lie. He had warned me, “Julie, you know I am going to have to lie to you the day that I do it. So please just stop asking me whether you’ll see me tonight, because you know . . . one day . . . I will lie to you.” And he did. I asked him. . . the morning of that June 28th, “So, I’ll see you tonight, right?” And he nodded. No words. Just a very sad, mournful nod. He closed the door behind him. I locked it. And that was it. The day that he was “forced” to lie to me. I remember thinking, as the deadbolt slid into place, “This is a bad day. He’s not doing well at all. I should follow him out to his car and force him to convince me he doesn’t have any plans for the day.” I had done it before. I had followed him before, making him double promise that he’d be back. We had found supplies to end his life in his trunk before. . . Before. But again, that day, it was about my timeline . . . my to-do list. . . my need to not be inconvenienced.


Wounded by the evil in this world – he couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family. I knew then and I know still – that on that day, in his mind, he was losing another family. A family he loved. And in all honesty, we truly couldn’t bear the thought of losing him – he had, in the 16 months, become my husband’s best friend (very frustrating at times, but still – his best friend) and he had become like a giant teddy-bear of a brother to me. He listened to everyone – could show compassion to everyone. Took everything one said to the deepest parts of his soul. He was, by our own standards, a very good man. So very kind. There was nothing we wanted more than for Jesus to save him, than for Jesus to redeem all the hurts of his past. . . and yes – all of that is true - we wanted all of that – but now looking back, I can see we wanted it, but it had to be on our timeline.

As a Christian I know that I know that I know (repeated on purpose) a few things – God is sovereign. Even over suicide. It’s almost painful for me to write those words. My mind knows it, but there’s a rather large chunk of my heart that still doesn’t believe it. Can’t believe it. Because after all, it wasn’t supposed to end that way – not in a world that a good God reigns and not in my little world where I know that I know that I know that my God, my Savior, is a God of reversals. He’s been a God of reversals since the fall of man – example after example in the Bible. He was going to reverse all the hurt in Michael’s life.

So – why am I writing this – I guess to just encourage all of us – to STAY IN THE SUFFERING! If God ordains for you yourself to suffer or ordains for you to enter into another’s suffering, then stay there. BE INCONVENIENCED! LOVE MORE THAN YOUR FRIENDS CONSIDER REASONABLE! SERVE WITH MORE VIGOR THAN YOU FEEL LIKE YOU CAN!! PUT OTHERS FIRST!!!!! PUT YOUR HEART OUT THERE EVEN IF IT’S LIKELY TO BE CRUSHED! BE JESUS LONGER!!! DON’T DECIDE GOD’S TIMING FOR HIM!!! If someone came to us. . . now, knowing what we know . . . having gone through what we have . . . I’d tell them by all means, rest and have peace. But don’t get it by leaving the suffering that God has ordained for you. Stay in the suffering until you know God has released you. . . not your friends, not your counselor, not your pastor. Wait till YOUR GOD has released you. Find your much needed rest and peace IN THE SUFFERING. . . in the daily inconveniences of loving someone that you don’t have to love according to this world. Rest and peace can be found RIGHT THERE!! RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE! I promise you the Gospel was never more preached, never more lived out, never more seen by my children, never more discussed – than when Michael was living with us. Christ was there – in our home. . . guiding conversations, filling our arms when we hugged him, filling our voices when we prayed for him, in the tears that we cried with him and behind closed doors. He was there – and oh, GOD - there is no greater peace than that. None greater. No inconvenience can steal the peace of the Gospel being lived out in your home. Jesus, I ask you again – to forgive us . . . for growing so very weary while doing good. Forgive us . . . for not renewing our minds with your truth. Forgive us, for choosing our timetable and our desires before Yours. How I pray – that, despite our failure, Michael felt your true love before he died. How I pray that for once in his life – he finally knew what it felt like for someone. . . for You Jesus . . . to not give up on him. Even though he felt abandoned by us I’m sure on that day, how I pray that he knew YOU loved him. How I pray that he is in your presence, now knowing that every time he thought he was alone as a child and as an adult – I pray that you have shown him where you were and what you were doing. . . because I know that You are good. I know that no evil comes from You. I know that you saw Michael’s 5-year-old frame huddled in his bedroom, nearly bleeding to death after accidentally cutting his arm . . . too afraid to tell his earthly father what had happened. . . a fear most of us have never known. I know you saw EVERYTHING that was done to him – I’m sorry that we failed to love him as You have loved us. I’m so thankful that your love, God, never fails. Never. Your forgiveness reaches higher than the heavens. I know your love for us did not somehow increase when we let Michael live with us – and I know your love for us did not wane when we asked him to move out. For your love is not based on our performance or lack thereof – it’s based on who Jesus is. And He’s the same yesterday, today, and forever.


Disclaimers

**This essay in no way is encouraging someone to stay in the suffering of abuse. If you are in that situation, fleeing the suffering is indeed what you should do!

**I am in no way discounting the advice we received from Godly people whom loved both Michael and us. I just wish I had listened to that still, small voice over that which man told me.

**I don’t blame Ryan and I for Mike’s death. Mental illness is real. Michael made the decision. And we grew weary while doing good. All those statements are true and one does not reign over the others.