Five years ago today was the darkest day of my life. Ironically I spent it in a beautiful tropical paradise. For those who aren’t familiar with my story, I’m going to go through a a few pertinent details.

Wednesday, March 20, 2002 I was about half way through a mission trip in Cancun, Mexico helping build a church when that night I was bit by a poisonous spider on my left big toe. We had the next day off because it was the solstice and it’s a holiday there, so we went to Chitzen Itza. By the time we got back, the boil on my toe was about a half inch in diameter, dark and cloudy, and hurt like hell, so I had a friend pop it. Friday, March 22 it started raining. By the time we left the construction site the water in the streets was knee deep and our truck was able to come pick us up so we started walking through flooded dirt roads on the outskirts of Cancun. Thanks to the fact that I had an open wound and had to wade through that water, my toe got infected.

When I got back to the states, I got the offer letter for an AFROTC scholarship. Unfortunately I had been feeling an increasing call to the ministry. When I turned it over to God in prayer, a voice in my head told me to go to Walla Walla and study theology. I concluded that much like the angel wrestling with Jacob and Paul on the road to Damascus, God was trying to get my attention so I would follow the call I felt. My fear was that if I rejected it, I would lose my toe. So I did as the voice in my head said.

Fast forward five years…

I was nearing the point of accepting my loss of faith when a conversation with my roommate prompted me to give it one last shot because of the sense of calling I had. Even though I didn’t believe, I still felt that calling. The final step was to admit that it had all been a delusion. I decided I needed to get out of the classroom and get some perspective, so I signed up for an archaeological dig in Jordan and evangelism in Mexico.

I got the perspective I needed while I was in Jordan. When I got an email to confirm that I was still going to Mexico I came so close to canceling. Unfortunately I couldn’t come to a decision until the deadline had passed. I regretted not canceling. I resolved that if my faith wasn’t restored by the end of the series, that I would call it quits and walk away when I got back to the States.

I preached the first sermon on Friday, July 13. The next two were on Saturday. Those first three established the basis of it all. They were to establish the authority of scripture, the sinfulness of humanity and need for salvation, and that we were in the end times. I did my best, but I wasn’t convinced.

By the time I woke up Sunday I knew my faith was gone and that it was never coming back. I was then faced with a decision. Finish out the series or call it quits. I wanted to do the right thing, I wanted to keep my integrity intact, but I didn’t know which way to go.

I was there with several classmates from the seminary who were preaching at other sites in the area and I went along with them to play on the beach at Isla Mujeres. I was in a tropical paradise, but I was absolutely miserable. There was no easy option, there was no right decision. I could honor my commitment to preach the series and slip into depression or I could break that commitment and stop living a lie. It was too late to do anything about that day, so I would decide based on how that night’s sermon went.

When I got into the pulpit I got into the zone, but this time it was different. I felt so alone. I also wasn’t getting any response from the audience. I could tell that they could see right through my lack of conviction. Continuing wouldn’t do anyone any good, even if I was wrong.

That night I might have gotten an hour or two of sleep. I was so restless, so anxious, but by morning I had come to a decision.