Questions surrounding his suicide sparked a review of discussions for some previously undetected explanation for his action.
I wasn't sure what I could do if I discovered a reason, but I speculated anyway.
I wondered if it had something to do with a failed relationship. Some people can't handle the way their dreams or imaginations of relationship don't match up to reality. It's often not even an issue of blame, but just a fact of life. I hoped this wasn't his reason.
It may have been guilt over things done in the past. Chris was haunted by some things he had done. The guilt over past crimes sometimes plundered his pride in present progress and new accomplishments. He shared some of these things with me. I kept his confidence, but it would take more than words to wash away his guilt. Grace and mercy are communicated better through relationships than sermons. I hoped that old guilt wasn't his reason.
It may have been fear of change. There were times Chris would comment, "This is blowing my mind! I never thought this kind of change was possible. I'm getting to be friends with people who years ago would never have given me the time of day."
The changes were great. But the more things changed, the more Chris felt like a stranger on unfamiliar turf.
Previously, people had expected nothing but the worst from him. His life accommodated their lack of expectations. Positive changes and improvements sparked new expectations.
After last week's column I got an email from someone who shared his own experience with the fragile nature of change.
"I became confused and clear at the same time. The clarity was that I had a purpose that wasn't self destruction. The confusion was I still knew what I was and what I'm capable of doing.
"I honestly feel Chris didn't take his life because he was selfish. I feel he thought there was no way out. ... Maybe Chris was just too tired and scared to keep fighting."
He continued, "I guess what I'm trying to say is it doesn't matter who you are, or what you've done, there are always ups and downs. Even the most 'perfect person' goes though this -- just the degrees may be different."
I know he's right. Life is fragile. Disappointment becomes despair. Normal guilt becomes incessant shame. Nervousness about change becomes irrational fear of the unknown.
It can be a fine line between the two.
Early in my ministry at our church, not much was happening the way I had hoped. I was here to start a church, but not many people were attending. I was working hard to change things in the neighbourhood, but felt frustrated at every turn.
One evening I came home grumpy and tired. I remember getting into a stupid argument about something really insignificant.
I felt overwhelmed in my frustrations, totally absorbed in my own disappointments. As a preacher I told others to have hope, but felt my own hope waning.
I remember going out to the garage feeling tired of everything. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying. Tired of failing. Tired of feeling tired.
I started the car with the garage door shut. I wasn't looking to pass an angry message. Not looking to leave anyone with a guilt trip. Nothing personal. I just felt like quitting.
As the car idled, my mind ran back, reviewing my life. Somewhere in the jumble of thoughts, I imagined meeting God. I wasn't comfortable with that thought. I wanted to skip to something else. But I couldn't.
I pictured Him looking at me with a simple question: "Is this how you're choosing to come to meet me?"
Even through the exhaust, I realized there were things more important than my own doubt and despair.
I had a wife who loved me, young kids who needed me. Friends deserved better than my surrender to self pity. There was lots more work to do.
Turning off the ignition, I stepped out of the car with a very simple prayer of apology -- "I sorry!" I went back in the house, apologized for my stupidity and had a good night's sleep.
That was many years ago. And I thank God I've never been back to that place again. I would have missed so much.
I've been blessed in the growth of our family and the expansion of our church.
I've helped renovate buildings and helped revitalize a neighbourhood. There are new challenges and opportunities every month.
I've got even more friends to share in the work and passion for making things better.
It would have been such a waste to quit early.
The guy who e-mailed me this week was right. We all go through ups and downs -- no matter how confident, faithful or self-assured we appear.
I'm definitely not proud of that incident years ago. But I care less about protecting my "image" than about trying to encourage others who may be on the verge of surrendering to despair.
I still get tired and frustrated. No amount of faith shields us from all disappointments -- whether from others or ourselves.
But I've learned there's always life beyond despair and disillusionment. And I'm glad I stuck around to find out.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca