In August 2019, I posted a tweet that went viral with over 2.8 million views and 78,000 likes. Jarrid was one of the hundreds who replied. Being a Christian and having worked in ministry for a short period, I was familiar with Jarrid, and so his response gained my attention. Our conversation continued online at first, and a friendship quickly developed over the next couple of weeks through discussions of theology and politics over the phone.
In one of our talks, the subject of addiction came up, and in a vulnerable moment, I shared with Jarrid that I thought I had a drinking problem and might be an alcoholic.
Jarrid himself battled depression and was transparent in sharing that he dealt with his own demons. Out of his experience and desire to prevent suicide, Jarrid and his wife, Juli, founded Anthem of Hope. The faith-based organization’s mission is to minister and support those who battle addiction, depression and self-harm. It was Jarrid who helped give me the courage to stop drinking, enter a recovery program and share my struggles with others to fight the stigma of mental health issues and addiction.
On September 9, 2019, after telling Jarrid I was ready, I tweeted for the first time that I struggled with alcohol. It was a difficult decision to make myself vulnerable in front of my over 100,000 followers, but soon after posting, my mind was placed at ease. Jarrid replied, “Proud of you man! What beautiful transparency.”
That would be his final message to me and his final post hours before he would end his own life with a gun.
September 10 was World Suicide Prevention Day. It was also the day that Jarrid died by suicide. Shock waves were felt throughout the evangelical community, and tributes immediately began to pour in.
I felt gutted. I felt broken. I was shattered. How could I feel so strongly about someone I’d met only recently on social media? Because people who have struggled with addiction and depression immediately share a bond, much like cancer survivors or combat troops.
In a selfish moment, I questioned my own newfound sobriety. I had just experienced my first 24-hour period of not drinking in several months. I was angry, I lost my motivation, and in a fit of rage I blamed God for my circumstances, not even pausing to reflect on the Wilson family or pray for comfort in their lives as they began the process of grief and healing. My selfishness was soon overcome by anger at myself. How had I not seen the signs? How had I missed Jarrid’s pain, even though he spoke of it openly?
In retrospect, Jarrid’s posts and blogs were not just about the desperate, hurting people he was helping. They were also about him. He was writing about his life, and I was so angry that we missed it. How could this happen to a pastor? Pastors do not get depressed. Pastors do not deal with self-harm or thoughts of ending their life. Pastors do not die by suicide. But I was wrong. They do—and one just did.
Jarrid’s life and death taught us many lessons, but the most important one he taught me was that church leaders are not exempt from the pain and challenges of life. We depend on our faith leaders, ministers and pastors to shed their own emotions and focus on our lives, needs and wants, and too often we forget that they have their own. We must take a more invested role in offering ministry to those who minister to us.
I challenge churches and bodies of faith to take an intentional pause and inventory their leaders, finding ways to offer mental health care to those who give it on a daily basis. Pastors bare the weight of the world on their shoulders, listening to dozens of people a week who are sharing their deepest secrets, pain and challenges. It is a tremendous task to carry those burdens.
Research reveals that the rate of pastors diagnosed with clinical depression is nearly double the national average. Twenty-three percent of pastors in a study conducted by Lifeway Research reported having personally struggled with mental health issues. What’s more, nearly 40 percent take less than three days off a month, leaving them physically and emotionally drained. Churches should not just be aware of these statistics but feel compelled to take action.
Congregations, conventions and religious organizations must minister not just outwardly but inwardly as well. Designate a day on the calendar to intentionally strategize and formulate a plan for church staff to care for themselves and enhance their personal mental health, whether that be through outside counseling, therapy or group support. Implement a forcing mechanism to ensure your pastors are caring for themselves—make their struggles our struggles. It could end up saving their life.
Paul Walfall, a minister in the United Church of Canada, recently said, “At the end of the day, our ministry personnel are not merely paid accountable staff. They are people called by God to serve the people of God! As ministers follow the example of Jesus to wash the feet of God’s people, I believe that we should also be intentional and deliberate about ensuring that ministers are ministered to.” May it be so.
I am now in a new year of sobriety and think about Jarrid Wilson every day. His life and his love for others helped me rediscover mine, and we must do all in our power to protect those like him.
Travis Akers is a political commentator and veterans advocate. He currently serves on the Board of Directors for DemCast USA and co-founded Left of Bang, a gun reform group comprised of veterans. His debut book, Zero Proof 365: Rediscovering Life in Sobriety, is scheduled for release in 2020. Twitter: @TravisAkers.
The views expressed in this article are the writer’s own. If you have thoughts of suicide, confidential help is available for free at the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Call 1-800-273-8255. The line is available 24 hours every day.
