My heart is heavy as I reflect on the tragic death of a 25-year-old NFL athlete whose life ended by suicide. Though I did not know him personally, I feel the weight of this loss. Behind the fame, the contracts, and the public persona was a young man — someone’s son, someone’s friend, someone deeply loved. Moments like this remind us of a sobering truth: success does not silence suffering. Wealth does not guarantee wellness. Applause does not heal internal wounds.
We live in a time when many are silently battling anxiety, depression, trauma, and despair. Too often those struggles are hidden behind smiles, achievements, and carefully curated images. As the Church of Jesus Christ, we must be clear — mental and emotional suffering is not a sign of weak faith. It is a human reality in a broken world. Scripture assures us, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). God does not recoil from pain; God draws near to it. Jesus himself was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Our faith does not deny suffering — it meets it with compassion and hope.
Research reveals an urgent need to address mental wellness within church leadership itself. Nearly 1 in 5 U.S. Protestant pastors (18%) say they have contemplated self-harm or suicide in the past year, even if the severity of those thoughts varies. Additionally, a significant number of pastors report personal struggles — around 59% have experienced depression at some point in their ministry, a noticeable increase from earlier years. These sobering numbers remind us that those who shepherd others often carry unseen burdens of their own. Pastors are called, anointed, and faithful — but they are also human. They pray for others while wrestling privately. They preach hope while sometimes fighting discouragement. The wellness of clergy is not optional; it is essential for the health of the entire congregation.
It is important for you to know that a core part of my regional pastoral vision is wellness — emotional, physical, financial, and mental health — for both clergy and congregations. We cannot fully live out our calling if we are silently unraveling within. The Church must be a place where wholeness is intentionally pursued, where health is normalized, and where seeking help is seen not as weakness but as wisdom.
Therefore, let us respond in three ways:
First, with prayer. We pray for this young man’s family, for teammates and friends, and for all who are grieving. We pray for those quietly fighting similar battles.
Second, with presence. Let us be a community of faith where people can speak honestly about their struggles without fear of shame or dismissal.
Third, with action. If someone is struggling with their mental health — whether clergy or lay — let us be the kind of church where they know, without hesitation or shame, that they can find support, compassion, and real help. Let us be a community where silence is broken by grace, where stigma is replaced with understanding, and where seeking counseling is seen as strength, not weakness. May we create spaces where pastors do not have to pretend, where leaders can lay down their armor, and where every member knows that their pain will be met with prayer, presence, and practical care. Let us not only preach hope — let us embody it.
If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of self-harm, please reach out immediately. In the United States, you can call or text 988, the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Help is available 24/7. Let us carry one another’s burdens. Let us speak life. Let us love deeply. May the God of all comfort draw near to the brokenhearted and strengthen us to be instruments of hope.
