By This, All Will Know...

The tragedy of lost life cannot be overstated, particularly when it is cut short by the desperate and deliberate will of the departed. Suicide is a word that we are all familiar with, whether by association with one lost to it, or simply by our history as Witnesses. It is a poison that stains the souls of those who are left behind and mars the reputation of those who choose the path.

Among our apostate fold, mental health is a common complaint. We could debate the whither-tos and why-fors for ages to come, but it simply detracts from the importance and immediacy of those in need. We, the Lost Sheep, are followed by a dark cloud that swallow some whole, and only we can stand against it.

Most of those among us were baptized into Watchtower, often at a young age. The vast majority of us will have discussed questions out of the little green book which were meant to provide evidence of our understanding of God's requirements. We all answered a question regarding suicide, which was backed by Genesis 9:5.

Besides that, I will demand an accounting for your lifeblood. I will demand an accounting from every living creature; and from each man I will demand an accounting for the life of his brother.

While the scripture itself is not explicit about the issue of choosing to die, it heavily implies that our lives are not ours to end. It doesn't belong to us.

I call bullshit.

Our life is the one thing that is explicitly ours. It belongs to no one else. Be that as it may, we were somehow compelled to join a religion that would burden us with untold difficulties. We don't have the option of changing what happened to us, only to decide how we move forward.

In our past, we were marginalized, ignored, misled, and bullied. We preached and worshiped under a banner of love and acceptance, but practiced the exact opposite is every way that mattered. We were commanded to love each other, while having no devotion to its meaning. The very practice of calling oneself a Witness demanded exclusion, betrayal, and abandonment.

This is why it is so touching and remarkable that we, the Lost Sheep, so readily banded together yesterday when one of our own fell into the dark cloud. What cannot be described in words now is the ferocity of concert that occurred among the apostates to save one who was consumed by by their own desperation.

We, us, our international community of unfaithful cast a net out into the cloud to rescue a soul that was intent on giving up. We fished that person out of the blackness, and we crossed oceans to do it. Had we been Witnesses still, we'd have offered prayer, counsel, and finally reproof. We'd have condemned the injured for a malady they could not control, and we'd have called it 'loving'.

Jesus said that love was the mark of his disciples, but how can it be so if we do not exhaust every full measure at our disposal to rescue one who seeks misguided self-harm?

Many years ago, my older brother threatened suicide after a particularly bitter battle for custody of his children. I remember standing in line at a tailor's shop when I got a call from my mother. She tearfully asked if I'd heard from him, which I had not, so she explained what was going on. Of course he would not answer his own phone and I was nowhere close to the last place he was seen.

So I did what I could.

I placed no less than a dozen phone calls in a matter of minutes. I even dug up numbers of long lost acquaintances in the remote hopes that one of them might have heard from him. The most useful call went to his cell phone carrier. I reached a young man named Balthazar (yes, I remember his name) and stated that "this is the most important phone call" he was going to take that day.

While he was at first hesitant to provide information, and understandably so, I persisted and was able to have them located the cell tower my brother's phone was connected to. It narrowed our search down to a few square miles in which we could direct police to search, and we ourselves could look. Within that area, there was only one place that had any meaning to us as brothers.

A park. Mort Jacobs Park.

We played there endlessly as kids. Every person we grew up with knew it. Every Witness I knew also knew it. It was a place of so many happy memories. A perfect place to retreat in an hour of distress.

His girlfriend at the time was the one to go, and there she found him. Still safe. Still distraught.

You see, there's no measure that is too far or obstacle insurmountable when it comes to the safety of one we love. Prayer and counsel have their place, but they are not the real, tangible, measurable means by which we intervene for a person in need

You, the community of apostates, did everything in your power to catch one who fell. I am humbled and honored to be counted among you because you truly have love for each other. More so than we were ever taught to have otherwise. You are a body of people who rescued your own. You did it with love, determination, and sheer force of will. We were told that apostates are evil. What a lie that is.

These events of the last 24 hours prove that you are exceptional people. By this, all will know, because of the love you have for each other.