I still get the monthly newsletter from that church she has been teaching Disciple Bible now for several years. We - the church, medical folk, her family and I - performed the intervention that was imperative. That was the final bit of planning, you see.Įvery competent pastor knows what must be done in a situation like that. She wanted to know if I would still do her funeral if she committed suicide. She had every detail planned: time, place, means of ending it all, letters written to her husband and parents - everything. The writer reminded me of the day she had come into my office and, with clarity and calmness, told me of her intention to take her own life. It was handwritten, came in a basic, white envelope, from a 30-something young woman, highly educated, and it began like this: “Dear Ed, Of all the things for which I need to thank you, first among them is this: You saved my life.” Then there was one that was very different. Some were heartfelt goodbyes, wishing me well in the next place of service others were thinly disguised “thank-God-you’re-moving” kinds of things. In the summer of 2007, as Mary and I were unpacking at our new home in North Carolina, I came across a box filled with cards and letters I’d received when leaving a congregation to move on to the next appointment. 25, 2011, at a retreat at Lake Junaluska for Spirited Life, a multi-year health and wellness program and behavioral health study offered by the Duke Clergy Health Initiative. Editor’s note: Faith & Leadership offers sermons that shed light on issues of Christian leadership.

Blind Shadows by James A. Moore