In a painting titled “Lost and Found” by Greg Olson, the savior is depicted sitting on a bench with his arm stretched out towards a teenage boy, listening intently and lovingly. Beside the bench, the boy’s bundle of belongings—a heavy load—give the impression that he does not have the intention to stay.
The painting is the theme for a short film on the church about suicide titled “Sitting on a Bench.” The video portrays the hardships of suicide and the hope and healing that can come through Christ for both those considering it and those who have witnessed or been impacted by it.
It may be tempting to feel that we are alone. But recently as I read the account of Christ’s temptations in the New Testament I found that the same message portrayed by Greg Olson’s beautiful painting might also be portrayed in a very different scene—this one taking place a very long time ago, with the same figure, but here having traded places with the boy on the bench. In this portrayal, Christ is standing atop the pinnacle of the temple in Jerusalem when the devil comes tempting him. “If thou be the son of God, cast thyself down . . .”
In the words of Elder Holland, “The temptation here is . . . subtle. It is a temptation of the spirit, of a private hunger more real than the need for bread. Would God save him? Would he? [Jesus] knows that among the children of men only suffering, denunciation, betrayal, and rejection lie ahead. But what about heaven? Why not get spiritual confirmation, a loyal congregation, and an answer to this imp who heckles— . . . Right now. The easy way. Off the temple spire.”
We recognize the differences between Christ’s temptation and a suicidal thought or inclination, but the similarities are what struck me. You and I know that a lot of suffering, betrayal, and hardship lie ahead. Perhaps they also lie in the present—a present you would love to escape. A future you would love to avoid. Jump from this bridge, take these pills. See if God cares—if anyone cares. See if someone helps you—saves you. Then they will flock around you to comfort you and reassure you that you are wanted here and that you are loved. Or perhaps there is no such desire to stay, even if it is to receive such comfort and affirmation, but only the longing for a better place, one with God or with loved ones who have passed on before.
In our own way, we are all hoping for the reassurance of heaven or an escape from the hardships of this life. We are all longing for love and acceptance, in whatever form that may take for us.
Christ would gain followers, he would receive reassurance. People will show that they love you. You will receive comfort and relief. But this is not the way.
The good news is that for you and me there is a way. A better way. And it has everything to do with the man at the top of that temple spire. He is the way. Because of Him, “there is a remedy for life’s most difficult and painful periods. There is the gospel of Jesus Christ and the Atonement. There is peace and safety and a future.”
Recently a friend walked me through a very impactful experience in which I was told to imagine those who I know love me and then, approaching one, attempt to explain to them everything about who I am—everything I love, everything I fear, everything I struggle with. The task was frustrating. Then I was told I could use any method, real or fictional. But the task quickly became just as frustrating as it had been before. This person could not understand.
In that moment, something clicked, and in my mind, the person before me vanished and it was Christ who stood in front of me—it was him that I had to explain to. Except that, to my relief, the burden of explanation was gone. He opened his arms and invited me into them. I didn’t feel like I was worthy of that—that I belonged there. But, I realized, once you are there it is impossible to feel that kind of love and not want to stay.
In the past year suicide awareness has focused its campaigns on one word: STAY. If you can think of nothing else to stay for—think of someone to stay with. Stay with Him. He is not just up there in some cloud—he is here now, in every moment with his arms outstretched inviting us to feel his love, his peace, his comfort. And though his arms may not feel real now, his peace can.
“Satan, who is the father of all lies, can cause people to believe that they are worthless and have no purpose.” When such thoughts come, remember the response of Christ, “Get thee hence Satan,” and the similar response of Moses when tempted, “Who are thou, [satan]? For behold, I am a son of God.” When things get hard, remember who you are, and who God is. He will not leave us comfortless. If we invite Him in, He is there in every moment. So stay with Him.
