Your faith is supposed to mature as you age, but I had more questions and doubts than ever when COVID-19 hit in 2020. The world had been turned upside down, and I didn’t know what to believe anymore. How could a loving God let this happen?
Like everyone else, I accepted the new normal: lockdown, masks, and constant fear.
My Mother’s Illness
I told my mother to stay at home and I got her groceries and prescriptions. I brought her to my house for Thanksgiving that year. I was happy to fix dinner for her, and we had a good time together. Little did I know that was the beginning of a two-year nightmare.
Two days later, her neighbor called and told me he couldn’t get her to answer her phone. Her gate and front door had been open since 6 a.m., something very unusual for her.
I called her, and she answered. She said her friends had stopped by with their baby and she would have to call me back. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. We were in the middle of a lockdown. Nobody should be out visiting.
I got in my car and made a beeline for her house. When I got there, she was talking to people who weren’t there. She was hallucinating.
I got her to the hospital, where she stayed for ten days. They diagnosed her with a UTI and thought that explained her mental state, but a course of antibiotics didn’t resolve her hallucinations and paranoia. After several confusing conversations with doctors, I learned they thought she had some form of dementia. I asked for Neurology to see her, but they refused.
Instead of helping her, the hospital shipped her to a rehabilitation facility. They had a major Covid outbreak, and she got it. Amazingly, she was asymptomatic, but others were not so lucky. Over 30 people died.
After she recovered, Medicare booted her from the rehabilitation facility. I had to find long-term care for her in the middle of a global pandemic. She was still hallucinating and had paranoid and psychotic behavior. I had never seen my mother like this, and I was terrified.
I got her placed in a memory care facility. That should have been some comfort, but it was the beginning of a crap ton of new problems. Keep in mind—I wasn’t allowed in because of the lockdown.
When I was finally able to visit her, it became apparent that there were big problems at the facility. It culminated with her being sent to the hospital because an aid had slammed her down in her wheelchair and opened a gash in her leg.
I immediately started searching for a new facility, but it wasn’t quite that simple. Covid made everything more difficult.
In the meantime, my mother lost the ability to stand and then became unable to use her hands. The hands that had held me and made me numerous items were now shriveled and useless.
I got my mother accepted into hospice care. That meant the beginning of the end. I was in a dull state of shock as I signed papers, but was determined my mother was not going to die at that facility.
I finally got her moved to another memory care facility. Were they perfect? No, but at least they cared. She told me they were very good to her. I didn’t have to worry about her being mistreated, but I was still watching my mother die by inches.
I was heartbroken, and I was angry. Where was God? Didn’t he care?
My Faith Journey
I grew up in a Christian home. I went to a Methodist church and a Baptist school. I became a Christian as soon as I understood what that meant, but my faith journey was never smooth sailing.
At the Christian school, I was miserable. I learned the true meaning of hypocrisy there. We had lots of rules and regulations based on someone’s interpretation of the Bible, but they didn’t apply to everyone equally.
Christianity became a list of dos and don’ts—exactly what Jesus came to destroy.
I was constantly worried about sinning, and we were told everything was a sin.
Bible verses can be damaging when they are taken out of context. For example, “God will never give you more than you can bear.” No. That verse says God will never allow you to be tempted beyond what you can bear. There is a big difference, and I hear pastors preaching this incorrectly all the time.
Even encouraging verses, taken out of context, can be damaging in the wrong hands. For example, “Cast your care on the Lord,” or “Be anxious for nothing.” For the person who struggles with depression and anxiety, these verses can be painful. Does that mean I can stop my anxiety if I have enough faith?
How I wish it was that simple. Just have enough faith, and my depression and anxiety will disappear. But that isn’t realistic or true.
Scripture can be twisted to support an agenda, so I quickly became distrustful of anyone who quoted too much of it. I still get nervous if someone starts throwing too many Bible verses in my face.
I learned a lot about the Bible so I would know when someone was quoting something out of context. It was a matter of self-protection.
Spiritual abuse contributed to my CPTSD in a big way. I was told repeatedly that if I was a real Christian I wouldn’t keep sinning. I went to bed every night praying and begging to be saved.
The thing is—I always was, and there was nothing I could have done to lose my salvation.
I started going to a Vineyard church in my late 20s. This changed everything. I learned about a God who was a loving father. I began to heal from my past spiritual abuse.
The Vineyard was a turning point in my faith journey, but nothing good lasts forever. Things changed at the church, and so did my faith.
Disillusioned, I started going to a Lutheran church, but I longed for the beautiful worship and deep messages at the Vineyard.
I even joined the worship team to get plugged in and give something back. It was a fun five years, but that also ended due to church politics.
I tried other churches, but nowhere else really felt like home, so I’ve bounced around for well over a decade now. I even revisited my previous churches, but it just wasn’t the same. I guess I had outgrown them.
Death and Mature Faith
The hell I went through with my mother’s dementia and death made me question everything. Why was all this happening now, during the two most horrendous years in recent history?
It would have been a horrific experience during normal times, but to go through it during the Covid lockdown was too much to bear. I have never felt so alone in my life.
I felt like God had abandoned me, but He hadn’t. He was there with me in all the pain and horror. I don’t understand why God didn’t change my circumstances, but the reality is that there is pain and death in this world.
My faith is more mature now—sharpened by the reality of pain and heartache in the world. I had to learn what faith meant when I had lost all hope.
Pain doesn’t go away just because you have faith.
The day my mother died, I knew without a doubt that God was real. I encountered a loving father in the room waiting to take her home. His presence was as real as that of my best friend, who was with me.
I also felt the presence of my father, uncle, and many other relatives who had gone on before. The veil between heaven and earth was so thin I could practically reach out and touch the other side. Part of me longed to cross over myself and be free of the pain in this world.
I asked my friend if he sensed anything in the room. I didn’t share what I was experiencing because I wanted his honest answer. Remarkably, he was having the same experience. He even told me where my father was in the room. Sure enough, it was the same place I saw him.
They were waiting for my mother. We knew it wouldn’t be long before she passed over into heaven.
We both knew instinctively that my mother’s spirit would go through the window and onward to heaven when she died. Everyone was waiting to welcome her, and it was a holy moment.
This is the God the world needs to know.
The world needs to know the ever-present, living comforter—not the cold rules of scripture, religion, and well-intentioned platitudes. This is the God I believe in.
I believe because He was with me in my deepest, darkest hour. He didn’t leave me, and He didn’t fail me. My mother wasn’t healed on earth, but she is whole now, and free of a world of pain.
Do I still have fears and doubts?
Yes. All the time. That’s part of being human.
Jesus, as he was dying, cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Why then, should I expect to have perfect faith all the time?
Perhaps it’s enough to know that he will meet me in my unbelief and not shame me for it. Enough to know He will never turn me away as an honest seeker who asks questions and has doubts.
He’s okay with all of that. Really. He loves and accepts me just as I am.
At the end of my questions, unbelief, and even rage, He remains. Waiting. Wanting fellowship with me. Loving me, even when I don’t love myself. Not giving up on me, even if I give up on myself.
My mother’s death reshaped my faith. I’ve been through the fires of life, and my faith has been refined. Now I know I have a loving father who will never leave me, even if my circumstances don’t change.