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The Gift Of HellBy Nita K Curry For two-and-a-half months I faced hell through a glass. But it wasn’t until a phone call one Sunday afternoon that the glass shattered and I began to look at this hell face-to-face. It was a circumstance I did not request, an event I did not expect, but it still came into my life. It has been my personal hell for the past two years, one that haunts me when life lulls, but mostly when there is no one there to help me through it. Not only do I now know the definition of hell, its loneliness and labyrinth of lies, but I have lived through it. It began in April of 1997. My mom and I had visited one of her childhood friends in Florida and by the time we returned she had developed a cold. Neither of us thought anything of it. Once she returned home, three hours from my house, she didn’t seek help until she couldn’t breathe and had to be transported to the hospital in an ambulance. One of my brothers met her down there and, since I wasn’t feeling well, I was kept abreast of her condition by phone. Two days later I received a call that the doctors were going to have to take extreme measures...measures that opened the gates to my personal hell as my mother lay on a hospital respirator on the other side of a window. The doctors had originally put her on the device to "give her lungs a rest." But, in hindsight, it turned out to be a dreadful decision because she never came off it. For the entire period, my brothers and I went through a torture that remained without respite. Although it appeared to us that my mother’s quality of life had fallen to zero, the doctors assured us that she could soon get off the respirator and lead somewhat of a normal life when freed. For the entire time, I drove the distance to be with her at least once, if not twice, a week. Though I was working full-time, I wanted to be there for her as much as I could. My brothers visited often, all of us trying to get information, hoping our mom would rouse and give us some hope of a brighter future. The physicians finally informed us that she would have to be transferred to a long-term facility that specialized in weaning people from respirators, thus making us optimistic she would return to the mom we knew and loved. The new facility was further away from me, but I still visited regularly. I had to; she was my mom¾ my only parent left. Fortunately, it was nearer to one of my brothers so he was able to visit her almost every day. Because of this, I did not feel quite so guilty when I decided to take a weekend off and stay home with my husband (who had been out of town on business). Yet, life doesn’t follow a script. On Sunday afternoon my oldest brother informed me that mom had passed away. My life shattered. For over two months I had lived in hellish anxiety, but when she died it hit me so hard that I was numb. I remained numb for months and in some ways I don’t believe I have fully recovered from it. Questions I wouldn’t dare ask often wandered through my mind. I wonder if it was my fault that she developed that cold? I wonder why I didn’t go down and visit her before they put her on the respirator? I wonder if she realized how much I loved her? I still find myself crying for no reason¾ until I realize I’m missing her. However, regardless of my broken heart, I have found solace in Jesus and His many ways of showing me that He loves me. It was during one of these lonely times, when I pondered why I was parentless at such a young age, that a thought came to me. Isn’t hell where Jesus went after He was crucified? Didn’t He receive the keys to hell so that we would never have to fear hell or death as long as our life is committed to Him? Scripture states, "I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen, and have the keys of hades and of death" (Revelation 1:18). We all have personal hells to endure. It may be a prolonged or deadly sickness, a broken or stumbling marriage, the death of a loved one, or cancerous financial problems; whatever it is, it knocks you off your feet and leaves you gasping for breath. You lie awake at night asking "Why?" "What could I have done different?" "Why is this happening to me (and not them)?" and "Does God really love me?" When Jesus died on the cross not only did He provide a template for our spiritual conversion, but He provided a perfect analogy of how we are to cope with our own travails. When Jesus arose from the dead, He could still talk, walk, and even asked for something to eat. (See John 21:5-13) Although He still functioned as before the crucifixion, Jesus no longer experienced the restraints of the flesh. No longer was He confined to the chains of this world. He arose to a new flesh. The scars were still there, but they were only a reminder of the past. When we go through our own hell, we must make a decision. We can either use Jesus’ example or we can use the world’s examples (these consist of falling into damaging habits, becoming depressed or irresponsible or just giving up on life). When these troubles occur, we can become a shadow of ourselves or a stronger, better person who has taken sinister circumstances, applied Jesus’ example, and arose victorious. For me, it has been neither simple nor easy. So much in my life has changed since my mom died that I sometimes feel as if I am losing the battle. I unconsciously return to hell, where the devil waits with open arms. He wants me to torment myself with agonizing questions. It is his desire to keep me in this bondage of loneliness. It’s his job to make me believe that God doesn’t care. Of course, it’s a lie. It’s a literal lie from the pit of hell! Jesus wants us to take the keys and escape. If He had never risen from the dead, there would be no salvation. If we do not see our personal hell as a catalyst to becoming a better person, then we should give up because becoming defeated shadows refutes Christianity’s core beliefs! Once we flee, the memories of hell will linger, but the torture can’t remain. We must go on with our lives, taking the experiences that God gave us and assist others. Sometimes we must seek out a gift to show God’s love to others. Sometimes we must recognize an opportunity and¾ despite the internal anguish¾ pursue it. Other times God, in His infinite mercy, realizes that we are incapable of finding a gift in which to pour ourselves into so that we might transform. Sometimes, He finds that gift and bestows it upon us. That is what He did for me. He gave me a gift that was the perfect solution to my broken heart and restored my joy and equilibrium. Two days before my mom died, I found out that God was giving me a child. His name is Caleb and he’s two years-old. That is my gift. Yours will be different, but with the same result. The emphasis of your life can change from a tormenting ordeal to a risen Savior if you but recognize your gift from Him¾ the gift of hell. ninetyandnine.com © 2000, Nita K. Curry -------- Nita K. Curry teaches Sunday School to College and Career students in the St Louis area. Have an opinion on an article? Let us know how you feel! Click feedback & fill us in. |
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