Suicide is often seen

Suicide is seen in the eyes of shame and guilt.

Though it takes place here and there in many places.

They can sweep it away to a corner of the freezer silence.

All we have somehow come into contact with suicide, enigmatic nature.

Nobody can be protected .

Nobody will escape and may keep their distance.

Here there is no spectator protective

distance.,
we are agents of its enigmatic scene.

On an isolated island?

bearing the sign: Prevent unauthorized access.

Private Area.

spite suicide, significant changes our common everyday

it seems a group of fully exempt: priests in the church.

priests bury the dead and lead the funeral in a river of sorrow and pain.

But they themselves seem made ​​of steel incomprehensible.

Or is it?

priests who confess God as the source all life.
People's creator.

Sacred and creative force in everything.

Mankind was created by God's holy image.

Could God allow suicide?

People?

Priests?

Because man is sacred in God's eyes.

A holiness that prohibit this act of destruction of God's own holy creation.

Can humans harm and sacrifice himself by his own free decision?

Freely?

suicides have many driving motivations

disease.

divorces.

unemployment.

A deep sense of life's overall dark futility.

many why this pain map that has locations all over the world.

All home. In all rooms.

Judgment on the most unexpected places. This boundlessness makes us helpless and paralyzed in the decision and force.

Did we the common courage to open the door tot this world of shadows?

Courage to rise up on their own and dare a meeting with the truth?

That without prejudice to open this door may be the first and best step to helping considerable force.

Dare means maybe trust ... .........

Futures.
For all.,We understand that everyone is involved in a joint healing power.

Together we can make ... ..it with much of love and understanding.
I am a minister of church.
In church of Sweden.

Is it permissible asked the young man in the hospital

ward.that a mjnister of church can kill him self.

Where we drank coffee and shared shyly a soft talk  on our

lives.,

He was at home in the hospital environment.

But not me despite years of separate visits as a priest, both in homes and in hospitals.

A completely foreign environment now in this position.

while visiting priest with meaning.

now completely weak side as a patient.

One among many on this psych clinic.

Now as the others after intensive care for reproducing life in a poisoned body.

A question of sudden impulse.

Kill myself.

Destroy all my life with my life.

He held the hot coffee cup as the only source of heat.

Reheat his frostbitten soul and body.

His question: aroused a deep shame of inner turmoil ... burning shame.

Can a priest to do this so shameful: kill God's holy gift of life?

A time of saving hands were around my increasingly moribund body.

A life's decisions the same chain of life and nurturing force.

A new day.

A day of suffering all the faces that make up a normal conversation.

Suffering  gathered in a department.

Here i  came to meet this young sympathetic young man.

suffering going on 365 days a year.

Pain do not take  holiday.

.

But changing personal and disease.

Suffering never sleeps.

idea that priests are people following me still.

My imaginary social status got a real slap in the face.

One day leads to worship in a beautiful church, and now sit in a madhouse.

inmate You under duress, the physician's firm order.

compulsion I saw as goodness internal working principle.

Robust image of the entire staff.

A place of suffering with substantial hands-on caretaking. Not sugar sweet gentle words no root in reality

.

Life's structure is basically simple:

we are born ... live ... .die and pass away. ...

An essentially closed room that no one can escape from.

Nobody on earth runs away from his own death.

But who is I then this aging man ... priest in the swedish church, an evangelical lutheren christian church

A dialysis machine that slowly and faithfully cleans my poisoned body have a good answer to this question.

Who I am.

Which force brought me out on the sharp edge a late winter night.

Which forces.

God.

My sin

punishment

the family

church

people

my bipolar sickness

pill with a big glass with

alcohol.,

I sat like a prisoner in this cell of the agonizing questions

death wish with a hefty lonely self-loathing.

in the

Has nobody in my surroundings seen my internal suffring.heart that held its secret most expensive diamond.

as in its own locked upp and the key thrown in the deep dark ocean.

found myself in a world of the blind.

Or I managed to trick my surroundings in a kind of false security

can a cheerful laughter and often good humor to hide

an entire hell

Suicide is no limping hero from proud battle

no shiny medals that plays its proud music in the streets and open squares.

compact silence its true nature

expanded in an increasingly timid silence.

The sensitive precautions to intrude on a very difficult topic.

It Christmas in our wintry society.

A completely lost year also for the

church.'sa sad testament to the paper. One of the group then out and disappear.

Inn rests in silence and speeding train testify that life, after all, always moving on.

No stops on this train with the time..

Stations with deserted stations release no obvious answers.

Where was in acute

danger.,It was cold outside but also the whole was like a frostbitten person without internal powerful fire.

A shell of a completely removed inner God's creation.

Though my heart was beating so life was completely dead in the blood that rushed around in the dialysis machine.

A kind of technology effective

church.,no spiritual activity of any kind.

God found only silence in my clasped hands lax.

Cry for mercy and help family was cold lips without heat..

Did not seek God's comfort and expected nothing of Jesus' healing lives.

Just a tomb of silence were on my lips.

Where was I when this dumb moment.

Everywhere and nowhere.

My worldly and spiritual diary was not at the heart table.

After hours of dialysis came new words for transfer to the Department in the madhouse.

the same with me, there were about twenty other patients in all..

lot in my eyes too young.

Their young as human low down crushed in their deep anxiety.

note silent suffering.

many stages eternal flight to escape his inner pain.

Who dares to take his life and his future in security assurance.

But the birth daylight hiding shadow waiting rose with sharp thorns.

A brutal reminder of life's fragility immediate and strenuous.

How undertook the outside

world.,I had demanded silence and restraining orders

.

shame.

Guilt.

I fell into the department's normal routines. I was a priest, despite a good and obedient person.

Here we were all Christ's brethren and sisters.

A crowd of mixed species. everything all in all.

concerned I still enigmatic scent of coffee its sacramental dark depths.

A dark scent looking bright in my mind.

A tray with bread and coffee affects me today more than communion.

Black fragrant coffee landed softly as  grace from heaven in both stomach and soul.

In the battle for life and death, so it always grows up a relationship.

As the wonderfully beautiful female surgeon. She went on to become important to me along with this angelic group of hearty love practicing hands

.

Lived here God's healing and sacred words in their hands.

Loaned to God to serve his post in grace and reconciliation kingdom.

Silent words but more grace in grace working hands.

Bible was safely off the length of the hall cleaning

rooms.,but God acting word got resurrection of these for me totally unknown

people.,but they had the common name Angels ...

And they did not know about it.

already from the policemen's robust handling of a pill filled man and all that during the hour gathered around me in order to defeat death.

A bunch of angels who gave a damn about getting life in a disrupted and devastated remnant.

An image of God.

A scrap heap of sadness and quiet desperation.

My from childhood understand bipolar disorder can be described as a kind playhouse.

days of functioning and unconcerned obvious life to pain so severe in the Depression that in light of the hell is a sun

spot.,it is the degree of differences in hell too.

within an increasingly improved knowledge of disease in general so there is also doubt in the matter.

1-2% of a country's population has the disease and it is essentially incurable and often involves heavy losses in human life.

A personal suffering which capture their surroundings in an increasingly difficult to explain relationship.

research on the brain differently and many disease conditions improved all the time.

UN health agency WHO sees bipolar disorder as one of the most difficult on a list of ten.

That says it all.

Means personal suffering and common losses in the whole

economy.,it is not wound in the soul and pills in his hand. entire society is in many ways interwoven in this tremendous tragedy

.

touch us all in an open and functioning society. No group gets away. not even those who themselves work with care as their profession.

Doctors

Nurses

all.

dialysis machine was a mechanical confession in this room on the fight for my resurrection.

A renandee machine for hours on faithful loyalty conducted Saints of God's work on earth.

And its so modest sound sounded like a band of angels from grace sky full of angels of God, but that took shape in ordinary people's love and mercy.

now has more than a year passed.

And on the surface the same again but basically everything changed.

One experience that they wished undone but also one that moved life drama for new, more critical perspective.

Huge time is less now.

thing that was blindly conceited eye have gotten more of the eye's actual moment of attempted humility.

As the obvious Bible-reading and knowledgeable priest I'm so has the young woman's pale skin with orden..faith...hope..and love got a far deeper meaning than before.

A grace tattoo that lives hers life here and now.

Suicide is se