>Christ the King and Internet Suicide

>When I determined to pray every day for those on the verge of suicide little did I know that Abraham Biggs was going to commit suicide on his webcam. Last night I said a rosary for him and his family. The tragedy of it is that Abraham was Bipolar and wrote as his last words, “I’m a failure.”

What is on my mind is how often those very words have rattled in my own brain and come out of my own mouth. I am a failure. It raises something dark and sticky in my soul that I can only give to God. Lately, the best thing I’ve managed to do is to continually turn to God with the renunciations and battles that are waged with them, right by myself. Crosses are laid on my shoulders and I’m learning to bear them, without too much compliant as I try to be more pliable to the Holy Spirit.

I know nothing of Abraham Biggs life, or his faith, but I prayed for an answer as to why some of us have faith so strong it will not let us die, and others do not. It seems impossible to me that someone with faith could do this. However, I know for a fact that mental illness is greater than just about anything I’ve wrestled with in my entire life.

So what can I do? I can only turn to Christ the King, and celebrate his victory over death, and darkness, and yes, mental illness. Think of all those possessed with demons in the NT and ask yourself, was that mental illness? Thank God, that our God is a God who loves us all, and was willing to suffer for us all, and to die in agony for each, and every one of us.

All I can do for Abraham Biggs is to give him into the hands of Christ the King who loves him, will hold him close and give him the peace that so eluded the poor young man here in this ‘vale of tears.’ Yes, I’m being maudlin, but there are times that the situation calls for maudlin.

John Donne HOLY SONNETS. VIII. If faithful souls be alike glorified As angels, then my father’s soul doth see, And adds this even to full felicity, That valiantly I hell’s wide mouth o’erstride. But if our minds to these souls be descried By circumstances, and by signs that be Apparent in us not immediately, How shall my mind’s white truth by them be tried ? They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn, And stile blasphemous conjurers to call On Jesu’s name, and pharisaical Dissemblers feign devotion. Then turn, O pensive soul, to God, for He knows best Thy grief, for He put it into my breast.