Into the Fire

Football mania accelerates after each game. We fly high or sink beneath the radar each week. High fives or down lows. Nothing quite like the fans of football, the devotion to a team. Manic v Depression.

I’ve been a Seahawks fan since their inception. We used to be in the AFC before the restructuring. Our big-time hated opponents were the Denver Broncos. They’ve always man-handled us no matter who was coaching, who was playing, at Mile High or here: we often lost. As we did again on Sunday afternoon. We stunk. They shone.

Nevertheless, what happens when a young Denver teammate at the age of 23 years of age with the remarkable skills to make it to the NFL, even though he’s rehabbing from injury, finds life so bleak and utterly hopeless that he fires a kill-shot into himself? With limited information available this is the first report: a suicide in his master bedroom while his girlfriend and their child were running errands.

Twenty-three year old Kenny McKinley killed himself. A self-inflicted gunshot wound at first examination by the Sheriff. While everyone mourns, the question most asked by those who have no idea is “Why?” Why when the young man seemed to have everything to live for did he consider life too barren to live it?

I remember the intensity of the young twenties. I didn’t know the Lord at that time in my life, and the struggle to find some kind of happiness often made me feel empty. I managed to mess up many things in those early years, but the Lord allowed me to travel the long way home to Him. I harbor many regrets under the Blood.

It grieves me to think this young man couldn’t find a place in his heart to find mercy, to find hope, to survive the dark times of the soul even when others think there’s no reason you should experience them. So sad . . .

God in heaven, only you know where Kenny has gone. Comfort those who mourn, Lord. You’re the only One who can. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.