Take Me Home: Behind the Song

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After eight and half years of depression and years of contemplating ending my own life, there was this moment when, thinking about suicide, I was certain I wouldn’t go through with it. I don’t know why. I suppose that God is not through with me, that as He stayed the hand of Abraham in sacrificing his son, He can as easily stay my hand when I mean to do myself harm. But in that moment, I was not relieved. I was heartbroken. Disappointed. Terrified.

How am I to live this life for another fifty years? I can’t imagine surviving today. Breathing takes monumental effort, a weight on my chest I have to lift with each breath. Walking, thinking, not thinking—it’s impossible. And I can’t even make it stop with my own death.

So I wrote this song. A plea to God to end my life, my struggle. In the words of Elijah, “God, I’ve had enough.” In my own words, “take me home.”

Since my glorious salvation, my life has changed, my heart has changed, but my prayer hasn’t. Even though life is worth living, and fifty years look amazing to live and serve my Savior, and I am excited to see the future, to live today and discover tomorrow, my prayer is still to go home to be with the Savior who saved me. Before, I wanted to leave because life was so bad. Now I want to go home because if life can be this good, imagine how good heaven will be.

Recently a friend ended her life. The month before that, I’d taken a notebook of my songs and sung for her a concert from my own experiences, my sufferings, and my hope. And then, a month later, she was gone. Taken home, her work on earth finished, and God’s grace sufficient.

At her funeral, I sat struggling, fearing again that if God let this happen to her, He could let it happen to me. And I remember: God never promises that life won’t get that bad. Suicide may once again look like the best of the bad options. But God’s promise is that He will be that good.

If I am looking for someplace to put my hope, it cannot be in circumstances, controlled by God as they are, because circumstances are not assured. They are not promised. God is. And He does not disappoint. As I sang this song at the funeral, it was not a song of mourning or confusion or of “God, why?” It was a song of envy, for my friend was home, and someday I’ll be there too.