One gentleman writes about his overcoming battle against suicide. He relates the following. “I sat in my car in front of the Delaware Memorial Bridge. I had just driven back from a three-day gambling binge in Atlantic City, where I had lost more than $5,000. I had maxed out my credit cards trying to recoup my losses that now surpassed $300,000. My past flashed before me as I tried to get up enough nerve to jump five hundred feet into the Delaware River. I was a decent sort until my marriage broke up, and I began womanizing, drinking, and betting on anything anywhere, I thought.
I am a retired chief master sergeant of the Air Force. I had previously won numerous awards, including Citizen of the Year in Delaware and Sergeant of the Year in the Air Force, and I had shared the National Freedom Foundation’s highest award. My works of patriotism were entered into the Congressional Record of the U.S. Senate. Back then, I had a purpose in life. Now I was an addicted sleaze. I took a swig of the drink I had carried out of the Resorts Hotel and Casino, opened the door, and walked toward the bridge. A state trooper came by and yelled, “Car trouble?” “No, sir, just getting some air,” I said. I climbed back in my blue Sprint and drove home, where I spent a lot of lonely hours contemplating my failures. It was 4:00 a.m. on a Sunday. I drank more booze to help me sleep.
About 3:00 p.m., the phone woke me up. It was Jim, an old friend who always wanted me to go to church with him. He said, “I prayed for you this morning, Joe,” and invited me to go with him that night to hear a guest speaker. I said OK, figuring he would buy me a hamburger after church. At the Pentecostal church, the visiting speaker gave an eloquent sermon and then invited individuals who were hurting to come forward. A long line of people went to the platform. The pastor stood in front of each. Several fell backward. “Those people are being slain in the power of the Holy Spirit,” my friend explained. “Let’s go up.” I waited until there were only a few people left. When I got close to the pastor, he asked, “What can God do for you, my son?”
I blurted out something about my asthma. He raised his hand, closed his eyes, and began to pray. I felt a peace come over me. The next instant, I was lying in Jim’s arms. Did he push me down? I wondered as I glanced around and saw I was the only one left on the platform. “How long have I been lying here?” I asked. “About eight minutes,” Jim said as he helped me to my feet. From that day on, I began to walk in Christ. Today I think of how wonderfully God works. If my friend hadn’t called, if I hadn’t been hungry for a hamburger, if the visiting pastor had not grabbed my interest, I might have ended my life jumping off a bridge.1
What if Joseph Pfister had jumped off the bridge? What would have happened to him? Does God think that suicide is an unpardonable sin? That’s our focus today, that’s what we are talking about in this week’s Light on Life.
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