The Giant (1 Samuel 17: 3-11)

Some of you may recall that last summer, I took a few days off to go to northern California and preach at the funeral of a young man who I had worked with at camps and other regional events. In fact, one particular summer, Ethan was a junior camper, I was a counselor, and this young man’s entire family was on staff: his father, a Disciples pastor, was the camp director; and he, his mother, and his sister were all counselors.

His name was Brett. News of Brett’s death came to me in the middle of a week of directing Chi-Rho camp at Loch Leven.  It was a camp that was almost evenly matched between boys and girls, with the boys having a very slight numerical advantage over the girls. 

As a pastor who often works with youth, who has seen boys and men stop attending church more often than girls and women, and who is himself the father of two boys, I have a particular interest in presenting faith in such a way that it helps boys become men, in a way that faith becomes something they can hold on to, something that can guide them through life, and be the men God created them to be.

Brett knew how to inspire boys. He knew that what boys need is to be heroes. I don’t know if he ever articulated this, either to others or to himself. I don’t think it’s something he learned from a book. I think it may have just been something he knew in his gut.

He knew that boys need to be called to heroics, to greatness, to use their God-given strengths and abilities to serve others and help save the world.

By midweek Brett had his entire cabin of boys running around camp wearing capes made out of beach towels. They idolized Brett. He was their hero, their mentor, their friend, and through fun and play, he taught them how to be heroes themselves.

At camps I’ve done since, I have often donned my own beach towel cape, and have helped campers who wanted do the same.

So it was utterly devastating to me when I found out, in the middle of a week of camp, that Brett had died by suicide.

And I was completely blown away when, a few days later, his father called me and asked me to officiate his funeral.

After praying and reflecting, I decided to use the story of David and Goliath as the basis of what I would say at the funeral. I relayed this information to Brett’s family, even though I was worried they might think I was crazy for choosing that particular story for a funeral sermon. In the end, though, I think it all worked.

Here is what I said to the overflow crowd gathered at Oakdale Christian Church for Brett’s funeral…

I said that every boy needs to be a hero.  That is every boy’s calling.  That is what God created boys for: to don capes and save the world.  Once they do that, they’ve taken a giant step toward becoming a man.

This talk of being a cape-wearing superhero is metaphorical, but it is true.  Every boy is called to be a hero. And every boy must find his own path to becoming a hero.  He must find a way to become a hero in a way that fits his own unique individuality.

Saul tried to make David fit Saul’s own idea of what a hero is.  He tried to dress David in his own gear, putting his own coat of armor on him and a big bronze helmet on his head.

And David couldn’t even walk.  He was a little guy.  The gear was too cumbersome, and he wasn’t used to it.  If he was going to do this – if he was going to save his world from the giant and become a hero – he had to figure out his own way.

I then talked about Brett. I said he figured out his own way of becoming a hero.  Often, it involved actual – not metaphorical – capes.

But more than that, it involved love and respect; and everyone who came in contact with Brett felt that love and respect.  Brett was a true friend, even to those he had just met.  He went out of his way to show kindness.

That was his strength.  His superpower.

I talked about how Brett was a hero to my son and to so many others; I talked about Brett’s attempt to get a college education, and his acceptance into the Navy’s elite Nuclear Propulsion Program. I talked about the love he knew his family had toward him.

But I also talked about the giant.  A giant named Depression.  Brett wrestled with this giant several times over the years.

Suddenly, with almost no warning, this giant caught Brett by surprise.  That can happen, even to superheroes.

The giant overpowered him.  The giant saw a fleeting, momentary weakness in that superhero armor, and seized the opportunity.

Last week, I had fun using a Disney movie to tell part of the story of David, who was picked on by his brothers, bullied even, and yet was the one chosen by God to be king. After all, while others are fooled by appearances, God sees the beauty within.

But bullying can have tragic consequences. A new study out this month shows that adults who were bullied as kids have a much greater chance of developing depression or other mental illness.  That doesn’t mean that all depression is caused by bullying. And it doesn’t mean that Brett was bullied; I don’t know if he was or not. But it does mean that if you are bullied as a child, you are much more likely to develop depression as an adult.

And depression can be a fatal disease.

Mental illness. Depression. Suicide. These aren’t things we talk about much. Brett’s family was very open about the cause of Brett’s death, and I think that has been helpful to others who might be dealing with similar mental health issues, or who are just trying to make sense of it all. But so many still hide their mental illness, depression, attempts at suicide, or the suicide of family members.

There is a stigma. There is shame.

But it’s time for the stigma and shame to end.

Brett’s was actually the third funeral I officiated at in which the person died from suicide. Those are not easy funerals to officiate at.

I recently read an article by a person named Kelley Clark. In the article, she explains why she plans to tell her young son about her suicide attempt, and about the death by suicide of her brother.

She says it’s important to tell the truth about mental illness. She says it’s important to tell the truth about suicide. “Even the scary, complicated stuff. Especially the scary, complicated stuff. Because sometimes life is scary and complicated.” She writes, “I think it’s important for kids to know that. Actually, I think kids already know that. What they need to know is that it’s scary and complicated for everyone, not just them.”

She also writes, “To keep a family history of mental illness a secret is to perpetuate the stigma. [It says] there is something to be ashamed of. That shame is what keeps people from asking for help. That shame is what killed my brother.”

We are Disciples of Christ: a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world. In the Greek Bible – the New Testament – the world for wholeness is “sozo.” Sozo is variously translated as wholeness, wellness, healing. Sozo is also translated as salvation.

The salvation scripture speaks of is now. There are people in need of salvation in this present life. One of the best ways we can be a movement for salvation and wholeness is to remove the stigma that keeps people from seeking help.

That’s not to say that this is a magic formula. Brett was very open with his family about his struggles, and Brett’s family was open with the rest of us about it. This willingness to be open didn’t save Brett, not in this life anyway, but I have a feeling it has helped save others.

In the story of David and Goliath, David defeats the giant. At the end of that funeral sermon, I asked if, in Brett’s case, the giant won.

I looked out into the congregation, and saw a number of Brett’s friends wearing capes made out of beach towels. At church. To the funeral. On a 90-degree day in August.

I said, clearly the giant did not win.

It’s important to tell the story of David and Goliath. It’s important to tell the story of mental illness, of depression and suicide. These are the giants many people face today.

And if this is a giant that you or someone you know is facing, remember this: it didn’t take much for David to defeat the giant. Just a pebble in a slingshot.

I don’t mean that the struggle is easy. It’s not. It is a difficult struggle. But just a little bit of faith, just a little bit of hope, just one day at a time, will give you the strength you need to continue the struggle, to not give up, and to know that healing, wholeness, and salvation are possible.