Answering the Call to Care: Reflections on QPR Suicide Prevention Training

On Wednesday, July 9th, I had the opportunity to attend a powerful and eye-opening session held right here at our church: the QPR Suicide Prevention Training, also known as Gatekeeper Training. QPR stands for Question, Persuade, and Refer—three simple but potentially life-saving steps anyone can learn to help someone who may be considering suicide.
Unlike professional mental health training, QPR is designed for everyday people—parents, friends, teachers, coworkers, neighbors—anyone who wants to be able to recognize the warning signs of suicide, engage in compassionate dialogue, and guide someone to seek professional help. Just as CPR helps sustain life in a medical emergency, QPR helps sustain hope in a mental health crisis.
As I sat in the training, I couldn’t help but think back to my younger years—times when I struggled deeply with my own mental health, including self-harm and thoughts of suicide. I struggled quietly and alone. I never heard anyone at church speak about these things. Not in Sunday school. Not in Bible study. Not from the pulpit.
And if it was mentioned at all, it was often in the harshest of terms—described as a mortal sin, or referenced only in connection with Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus. The message, whether spoken or implied, was clear: suicide was a shameful failure, not a cry for help or a sign of suffering. There was no space to talk about despair as something a Christian might feel. There was no room for grace in that conversation.
And so I carried it in silence, believing that perhaps these were things not meant to be shared in a faith-filled life.
That’s why I am so profoundly thankful that our church is changing that.
By hosting this QPR training, we are declaring—boldly and compassionately—that mental health matters. Struggles with depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts are not signs of weak faith or moral failure—they are part of the human condition and deserve to be met with empathy, not judgment. As a church community, our calling is not to explain away suffering but to sit with it, walk alongside it, and offer hope in its midst.
The QPR training equipped us with practical tools: how to recognize verbal, behavioral, and situational clues that someone might be in crisis; how to ask difficult but caring questions; how to listen without judgment; and how to guide the person toward professional support. It reminded us that we don’t have to be therapists to make a difference—we just have to be present, aware, and willing to speak when silence might be deadly.
I left the training feeling more prepared, but also more hopeful. Because what encouraged me most wasn’t just the skills we practiced—it was the witness of our church opening the door to this long-overdue conversation.
As a Lutheran, I found myself reflecting on the foundation that shapes so much of our theology: grace. Martin Luther taught that we are saved by grace alone, not by our strength, our success, or the steadiness of our feelings. He understood that the life of faith includes fear, doubt, and even despair—but grace is not reserved for the strong. It is poured out for the weary. It is a promise for the trembling heart.
Luther once said, "Faith is a living, daring confidence in God's grace, so sure and certain that a person would stake their life on it a thousand times." This grace is not theoretical. It is the hand that lifts us when we are too tired to stand. It is the whisper that says, "You are still loved. You are still His." And it is the assurance that no matter how deep the pit, we are not beyond the reach of God’s mercy.
That’s why I believe the church must speak openly about mental health. Because grace belongs here. And so do the hurting, the grieving, the anxious, and the overwhelmed.
If you've ever believed the lie that mental illness has no place in the church, let this be your sign: we are making space now. And if you're carrying pain in silence, please know this: there is no shame in struggling, and there is help, hope, and healing available.
QPR gave me tools. But it was our church’s willingness to host this training that brought me to tears. May we continue to open our doors and our hearts—for each other, for the next generation, and for all who enter, wondering if they truly belong.
They do.
By grace alone, they do.

​By Sophie Jobe