On suicide and school shootings

It was heartbreaking to hear about the suicides of two Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School students, just a little more than a year after the tragic school shooting in Parkland, Florida. Although the precise cause of the suicides is not yet clear, parents of both admit that their children struggled with “survivors guilt.” One of the students, senior Sydney Aiello, was best friends with one of the students killed last year.

Then, on Monday, the Parkland community was hit hard with the news of another suicide -- that of Jeremy Richman, father of one of the children killed at the Sandy Hook shooting in 2012. 

Much will be written about school shootings, rising violence across the US (including two teenagers shot just a few blocks from our house early Sunday morning), the proliferation of guns, etc. But let’s not overlook two very important realities: 1, While news and social media attention quickly moves on after tragedy, people who remain are left to pick up the pieces. 2, The US suicide rate has increased by 25 percent since 2002, while the increase among males 15-24 has been significantly higher than any other age group, especially in the last five years.

Let this sink in: A recent study by Promundo revealed that 1 in 5 males between 18-30 thought about suicide in the last two weeks. 1 in 5.

There are lots of factors involved, but the most important thing you can do as a friend, parent, or grandparent is to check in with your loved one. Talk about it. Do your best to make sure they’re engaged socially. Pull them away from video and online activity if it’s consuming their lives. Have dinner together and talk about the day. Don’t underestimate the lasting effects of trauma or worry over current events. Be open about drug and alcohol use. And talk about suicide. It’s hard, I know, but your kid/grandkid/friend desperately needs to know that they have an ally who is willing to talk through the hard stuff of life. 

And by all means, if you or someone you know may be considering suicide, contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1.800.273.8255. 

The ash of Ash Wednesday

From ashes, new life. 

25 years ago, my parents built a little cabin near Lake Lure. It’s always been a favorite gathering place to escape, chill, and reconnect. Imagine our worry when 7,100 acres surrounding the Chimney Rock/Lake Lure area were engulfed in flames in late 2017, what has been called the Party Rock Fire. Thankfully there was no loss of life, though the charred ashes of such a massive fire lingered on and on. 

But a funny thing happens after a fire. Holes in the forest canopy have allowed new species to grow. Fire resilient trees like oak and hickory are replacing non-fire resilient trees. And the animals are loving it. 

Driving around the area last week, it was hard to see any remnants of the so-called “fire of the century.” In fact, ecologists can hardly wait to see what emerges from the ashes this spring.

Which brings us to Ash Wednesday.Ash, the reminder of death, brokenness, and our own, very real mortality. The ancient ritual that rubs a haunting reminder into our forehead: “You are of dust and of dust you will return.” It’s a brutally honest day that comes with a parental warning of sorts: your sin will be exposed. 

It also comes with a promise: that from ashes, new life will arise. 

In some respects, Ash Wednesday is a mystery I’m not sure I fully understand. But I do understand the power of an ancient ritual that shows no partiality to race, sex, wealth or social status by simply saying, “We are all sinful, each and every one of us. We will all die, each and every one of us.”

But from ashes, new life. Remarkable, isn’t it? What an amazing God we serve. 

Sharing raw emotions

We read Psalm 44 this morning in our staff Bible study, a psalm loaded with anger, fear, and frustration towards God. We considered the different places in society that are loaded down with the same kind of raw emotions.

The United Methodist Church came to mind, especially after its jarring vote yesterday regarding gay and lesbian pastors. Others thought of immigrants. One spoke about her grandmother's care of her husband after his diagnosis with Alzheimer's -- a grandfather who transitioned from being kind and gentle to mean and mouthy. Her grandmother could easily resonate with the words of Psalm 44 ...

... if given the space to do so. So many of us have been conditioned to hide raw emotions, especially towards God. Expressing anger and frustration towards our heavenly Father feels, well, un-Christian.

But the psalms make room for that kind of emotional release. It would have been easy to leave these "psalms of lament" out of Scripture, but that didn't happen. Why?

"I think it opens the door for healing," one staff member said. It might not feel like it in the moment, but if the emotion is repressed for too long, it festers into something far worse. So true.

To that I would add a reminder of the church's other responsibility: to provide space for hope. That's what the church brings to the conversation -- hope. Hope revealed by a God who can bring life into the darkest of places. We like that message of hope, no doubt. But let's not go there too quickly. Sometimes we need to just sit in the raw emotion of it all. Sometimes we just need to hear and listen. When ready, we provide a hand to hold as we walk into a new tomorrow.

Blessings to you in these days of raw emotions. May we be a church that listens .. and a church with hands to hold through it all.