Crisis of Faith

I became a Christian in July of 1997.  I was living in Anaheim, CA and was baptized in the Pacific Ocean at sunset.  It was beautiful.

Until about a year ago, I was really good at reading the bible daily.  I've read the bible 5 times and after the last time decided I really didn't need to read the bible anymore.  So I stopped.

When I was baptized, I was attending a Calvary Chapel.  I love the Calvary Chapels of America.  They're all over the place.  They're not a fire and brimstone church.  What they do is pick a chapter in the bible, and explain to everyone what it means.  They don't pass around a donation plate, although there are podiums strategically placed for tithes.  They have bible studies, and parties, and a lot of them have coffee shops within.  It's very laid back.  Jesus is talked about a lot and it's a very loving environment.

When I moved to my current location, there was a Calvary Chapel in town.   I went for about a year, but the problem was they had three services and all three service had at least 2,000 people in attendance.  I'm more of a quiet person who likes nice little churches with less than 100 people, where everyone knows your name and you can attend bible study and things like that.  With this Calvary Chapel, I would never see the same person twice.  I tried attending bible study, but no one was really interested in being friends.  It was very hard for me with all the people.  I get anxious when I'm around large groups, so after a year of forcing myself to go, I quit going.

I've looked for churches since then, but haven't really found anything that suits me.  So, it's been about four years since I've been to church.

Even with not going to church or reading the bible, I consider myself a strong Christian.  I pray every night and talk to God several times throughout the day.  I never questioned whether I was saved or not.

Until the night I was diagnosed with toxicity.

Mind you I was delerious and hallucinating at the time.  The doctor came up to me; I was all hooked up to these machines and IV.  I was just told I was toxic and had to spend the night at the hospital hooked up to a heart monitor.  The doctor asked me if something were to happen, did I want them to try and save me or just stand back and let me die.

I told him I wanted to be full code.  After living with depression for so long, I was kind of surprised I said that.  I always thought I would say I wanted to be DNR (do not resuscitate).  At this point, I really thought that the doctor's though I might die.  I realized I wanted to live.

I looked up at the ceiling, seeing hallucinations up there.  I thought about God and wondered where He and/or His angels were.  I really thought someone would be "there" to help me on my journey.

I kind of got distracted while they got me ready and wheeled me up to my floor and to my room.  It is really weird experiencing all of this as a patient when usually I'm the nurse pushing the patient on the gurney to their room.

When I got to my room and everyone left and the lights were turned off I was left with my fears again.  There was this mirror in the corner on the ceiling of my room, and everytime I looked in there I saw an evil man, laughing maniacally at me or pointing at me.  One time I saw a person in scrubs lying on the floor as though dead.  The door had a window in it and I kept seeing someone pressing their face and hands up against the glass, trying to get to me.  In short I was terrified!

To tell you the truth, I was so scared that I wanted someone to come hold my hand.  I couldn't escape the hallucinations even when I closed my eyes.  I would see stuff when my eyes were closed that was just as real as when they were open.

All night I kept praying.  I sang Christian songs, trying to feel better.  But I didn't.  I was terrified all night long.  Then came the point when at around 3:30am, I heard ringing in my ears that I mistook for an alarm saying that I was dead.  I could feel my heartbeat and knew that I was breathing, but could not convince myself that I was still alive.

Again I looked around.  No Jesus.  No God.  No angels.  Where was everyone?  Why wasn't anyone coming to do CPR on me?  I finally got up the nerve to hit my call light.  I asked the nurse to come in to do some menial task.  When she came in and spoke to me I finally was able to convince myself that I was alive.  It was one of the scariest moments in my life.

One strange thing that happened was I no longer wanted to die.  When I had been depressed, all I thought about was dying and ending my pain.  Now I was scared half to death to die.  Why?  Because I wasn't sure if I was saved anymore.   In my head, I'd read the bible enough to know that "you are saved by grace not through works lest any man should boast"  (Ephesians 2:8-9).  But I had had so much time to think about it that night.  I hadn't been reading the bible.  I hadn't been going to church.  I wasn't doing enough for God.

When I got sick, I was only working 20 hours a week due to a work related injury.  That gave me a lot of time on my hands.  I was depressed.  I didn't feel I was doing anything for mankind, and since my injury kept me from walking well, I felt pretty worthless.  I spent most of my days playing Hidden Object games because at least that kept my mind busy enough not to think about how worthless I was.  As a nurse, taking care of patients gave me a purpose.  I was doing something for God.  I missed that terribly and didn't know if I could ever do that again.  I just wanted the days to go by quickly so I could have surgery and at least have some idea as to whether I could be a nurse again.

The toxicity caused severe anxiety.  I'd look back over the previous two weeks and think that I didn't deserve to go to Heaven.  I wasn't doing anything for God's sake.  I was taking up space, feeling sorry for myself.  That's why God wasn't there when I was so sick and thought I was going to die.

After I got out of the hospital I went to the nearest Christian bookstore and got a new bible.  I started reading a chapter a day.  In my bookshelf stood several Bible study guides gathering dust.  I found one called Mark for the Biblically Inept and started reading it.

I started asking around to see if there was a church that fit my needs.  My landlord introduced me to a church and gave me their website.  I checked out the website and went to the church the next Sunday.  It wasn't packed and it reminded me a lot of Calvary Chapel.  I continued to pray before I went to bed and during the day if I remembered.

I do feel better about my relationship with God.  I still have problems now and then believing I am saved.  Everything in the bible says I am, but I can't imagine being a good enough person to be let into Heaven.  But I think that's the point.  Jesus died for our sins no matter how bad.  I'm lacking the faith to believe that.  I'm hoping reading the bible and going to church and praying will help me work out my lack of faith issues.

I'm pretty sure that when it is my time to leave this world, that God, Jesus or His angels will be there to guide my way and to hold my hand.  The problem was, that night that I thought I was going to die, God knew I wasn't and that's why I wasn't sent anyone.  It's not that He left me alone, it was that the toxicity of my medication made it impossible for me to think clearly.  If He had sent me any angel that night, I would have probably been scared out of my mind or thought it was another hallucination.  He was probably there holding my hand, I was just too scared to feel it.

I think my crisis of faith is over for the most part.  I know I'll still deal with depression and suicidal tendencies now and then, but I'm hoping this experience will allow me to remember that God is there even if I don't feel him and will always be there for me no matter what.