About a decade ago, I received a message from a longtime friend on Facebook that sent shivers down my spine. It read: "Noye (my middle name), if I die today, will God ask of my blood?" "Wait a minute, what is on your mind?" I typed back.My heart was pounding.
That was when he confessed his plan to end everything that night. Suddenly, the floor fell out from under me. This wasn't just any friend. This was the quiet executive of the Scripture Union back in secondary school. This was the boy whose small, blue Gideon New Testament was an artwork of underlined verses, a proof of his faith I thought was unshakable.
What followed was a late-night vigil on Facebook Messenger. I marshalled every ounce of grace I could find, searching for promises from the scriptures he treasured and using them to admonish him. He explained the reason he wanted to take that action that night: he had repeatedly failed to gain admission to university and felt weighed down by the pressure of friends who had achieved what he wanted.
Fast-forward a year. I called him again to check in. It was then he disclosed the great news: he was on campus and had gained admission to the university of his choice. I said to him, somewhat sarcastically, "JoJo" (not his exact name), "if you had died that night, you would have missed your own resurrection." We burst into laughter, but the lessons were clear.
That harrowing encounter taught me a profound truth: the tides of disappointment can wash even the strongest: a preacher, a lawyer, a mother, a student, to the brink of surrender. Thoughts of suicide are not abstract; they are the desperate logic of a soul convinced that the only way to silence the shame, guilt, and disappointment is to silence the heart itself. We see people every day in the office, at church smiling, singing, praying, unaware that behind their eyes, a silent war may be raging. It has been said that the most brutal battles are fought not on fields of combat, but daily, in the silent chambers of the heart.
I have come to believe that the only key to unlock those chambers is have genuine interest in people. Only then will someone trust you with the broken pieces of their story. But the deepest revelation for me was hidden in the question itself: "Will God ask of my blood?"
I realized his fear of accountability before God. I believe this fear of judgment was the Holy Spirit prompting him to desist from taking his own life. So, I answered him honestly: "Yes, God will ask of your blood." This is to say, that there are consequences for taking your own life.
For anyone reading this post, suicide should never be an option. I want to encourage you that no matter the challenges you have faced, God will come through for you in His own time. Don't give up, because you are almost close to your miracle. Suicide is real, but more real is our faith in Christ to guide us through the darkest moments.
This is why we must stand on the truth of the old hymn: "My hope is built on nothing less Than Jesus' blood and righteousness; I dare not trust the sweetest frame, But wholly lean on Jesus’ name. On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand; All other ground is sinking sand…”