Thursday - September 10, 2026
SCRIPTURE
John 11: 25
I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, even though they die, will live.
WORDS OF HOPE
I had gone for a jog that August morning in East Texas, the last week before school started again. As I approached the yard, sweaty and out of breath, I saw Joyce standing at the back gate. With both gravity and love, she said, “Patti, we’ve received the call we’ve long dreaded. Doug has taken his life.” I fell into the strength of her arms and began to cry, but soon had to collect myself and some belongings to head back to Dallas to be with my mother. Doug was living with her at the time, and she had found her beloved son and had to deal with the official inquiry about his death.
Driving the three hours back, my mind was awash with voices and memories of my brother, a gifted musician who lived with what we then called manic-depression. In his highs he envisioned grand dreams and schemes and once gave away all of his money to people who needed it. But the darkness which overtook him was so deep “even a father could not find [him].” (Theodore Roethke) He hated the side effects of the medication the doctors prescribed because it muddled his creative process—and so sometimes he skipped it. It was only after his death, when I read the torment in his journals, that I had any real insight into his pain. Like most families, we experienced some guilt: could we have done more? And we were left with some unanswerable questions in the midst of our grief.
My mother’s pastor who officiated Doug’s memorial service didn’t know him, for Doug had become a member of a conservative spiritual community. But he did come to mom’s condo and sat with us and invited our stories to bring him to life. One thing I still appreciate is that in his remarks he said that we have come so far in many areas of medicine, but we still did not understand the mysteries of mental illness.
Today we lift up September as Suicide Prevention Month, and I follow those who tell the truth of a beloved one’s suicide—pushing back the curtain of shame that some would close around him. Thankfully, many people no longer call suicide a “sin,” nor would many churches deny the body of one who took their own life burial in sacramental ground.
Though even one death is too many, there were 48, 824 suicide-related deaths in this country in 2024--the death of someone’s husband, friend, student, nephew, father, and more. Men take their lives 4 times more often than women. And guns account for more than 50% of the losses.
The internet has many good resources for suicide prevention suggestions and programs, and I would encourage your checking into them. Please memorize or put in your contact list the number 988 and Talk 741741 for emergency hotlines if you or someone else is experiencing a wave of suicidal thoughts.
Once my mother told me that she wished Doug had found his way to our church—with its more progressive theology. And I sometimes imagine him in the orchestra on Sunday mornings in the flute section (though Saxophone was his main instrument). In the grief that can still surface, a story told by a friend of Doug’s comes to me this morning. They were at a church retreat, sailing on a nearby lake at sunset in two boats, coming from different directions. As the last rays of color spread across the sky, the friend heard the strains of “Amazing Grace” floating over the waters and looked up to see Doug playing his flute—the clear, plaintive tones calling to the other boat like the mercy of Grace itself. I pray that his own homecoming welcomed him with such beauty.
PRAYER
God of Mercy, gather us into a community which attends to the suffering with care and helps them get professional help if needed. Amen.
DEVOTION AUTHOR
Dr. Pat Saxon
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