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As for me I went from a believer to a non believer, from a non believer to a believer, from a believer back to a non believer, and finally back to being a believer where I rest today. Many years ago I wrote a book about my experience. I have never even attempted to have it published. I wrote it for my own therapy. Here is a small snippet from one of the chapters.

Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."

Exactly what did that mean? It dawned on me that I knew so many scriptures, but yet I was questioning myself as to the meaning. Was there something deeper, beneath the scripture, beyond just the written Word that I was failing to understand? Was the bible indeed the inspired Word of God? Was there a God? So many question and so little answers.

The way I figured it was that I had one last effort left in me. One final decision to make. Turn to God, or turn away from God. But before that decision could be made I first had to determine if there was a God.

I started by studying the bible more. I purchased study guides and self-help books anywhere and everywhere that I could find them. Bible dictionaries, bibles galore, every version and edition lined my shelves. I would reference and cross reference, again and again. I needed to understand the meaning of every word and how the word applied to the scripture.

I stayed up to all hours of the morning, driven to find the fallacy in the infallible book. If it was there, I would find it. Then I would have peace. I could accept the fact that there wasn't a God much easier than I could accept the fact that he did exist and that he really could care less about me or what happens in my life.

Being alone during the day I would boldly cry out and challenge God. " If you're there, reveal yourself, answer me, you owe me an answer. Damn it, speak." Sometimes I would be so overcome with emotion that even in the shower I would cry and bang on the walls. I would cry out. " Answer me, tell me what I need to know, prove that you exist!"

It had become a personal issue now. Forget the church, the preacher, all the good sisters and brothers, or even the written word, it was now one on one, me against God. The flesh against the spirit. I've heard people of prayer speak about, " rattling the gates of hell." I don't know about that, but if there was indeed a heaven, I was shaking the foundation. I was following the yellow brick road, off to see the wizard. I wasn't seeking a brain, a heart, or even courage. I wanted answers and I wanted them now.

The more noise I made, the more silence I received. not even a peep from the great almighty. It was an obsession. My mother told me that "I was going to drive myself crazy," my uncle said to " quit reading all those self-help books," my aunt told me to pray!" My mind told me to push on, to demand, to pursue answers.

What was behind all of the madness? If there was a God, then there had to be a heaven and a hell. If so, where was my baby?

Had I failed? Was my daughter paying for the sins of her father? Oh God, NO, please God, take me, I'm responsible, I failed, not her. Take my soul and burn it for eternity, but not my baby, please God, not my baby!

The question was one I was afraid to ask. A topic I dared not discuss with anyone else. I wanted to know the answer. Or did I?

I began to study the theology of various denominations of Christian faiths. Once saved always saved? That's what the Baptist said. Not true, said some of those of the Pentecostal and Holiness faith.

Age of accountability? No one had an answer for that one. Eight years, Two years, thirteen years? Did it have anything to do with age? Was it based upon maturity? What about those who had never heard the Word at all? What about the mentally impaired?

It was sorta like knocking over the milk jugs at the county fair. Knock them all over and win the prize of your choice. Which one do I choose? The one that gives me the greatest comfort?

Never any answers, just one question, leading to another question. What is this thing called salvation? How is one saved?

Believe? Believe and be baptized? Is the salvation in the belief or in the baptizing? Wait, some say that is not enough. A true Christian bears fruit. So, believe, be baptized, throw in some works?

Still not enough? How about believe, be baptized, works, and speak in tongues? Does that get the job done?

In my home state there are some who say you have to take up serpents! Do what? If my salvation depends upon me taking up a serpent, then fire up the furnace, I'm hell bound!

I have nothing but the utmost respect for those who demonstrate their faith by taking up a serpent, but my fear of snakes is greater than my fear of not knowing.

Why so much confusion? Can they all be right; can they all be wrong?

The wheels of my own mind were driving me crazy. Sorrows, crying, is the world a bad place, a terrible place to live? Reflections of my life, oh, how they fill my eyes.

All my sorrows, sad tomorrows

Take me back to my own home

That's all I wanted. Just to be taken back to my own home. A place in time when my life was full. When laughter and joy filled the rooms. I could hear the children laugh again.

Gonna feel the sweet light of heaven

Shining down its light on me

One sweet day, one sweet day

I will feel it

When I'm back on my feet again.

One sweet day, when I can wrap my arms around her, smell her fragrance, and see her smile. Yes, that's when I will be back on my feet again. Just roll back the hands of time. Take me back to my own home. The home I had before May 8th, 1990.

The battled continued. Day and night, more questions, demands for answers, nothing but silence. Exhausted, mentally and physically, to tired to fight, to devastated to quit.

One night I feel into a deep sleep. Something was happening. Something strange. I could feel and see my body floating upward. Higher and higher. Just floating in space above an ancient city. I know that there are some who will say that I was hallucinating or dreaming. Some might even say that I had fallen completely over the edge. but I know what I know.

I was above the city. I could see the domes and roof tops, see the smoke from the chimneys. A voice spoke to me. No, it wasn't like thunder, actually, it wasn't even a voice. It was more like a thought that was being conveyed to me.

" Do you want to see her face?"

To which I replied, " yes."

I looked to my right, and there was Stephanie. My baby, Oh, my baby. She had such a peace about her and happiness seemed to emit from her very presence. She spoke not to me, nor I to her. The joy that filled my heart is indescribable. My baby, my precious baby.

The voice spoke again, or conveyed the thought, " She is okay. It is not your time yet, but soon!"

I was wide awake, lying in bed. Shocked, terrified, amazed? I'm not sure.

Was I dreaming, fantasizing, hallucinating? I was filled with joy but at the same time gripped with fear. " It is not your time yet, but soon!" What did that mean?

I called my aunt the next day and shared the experience with her. I was dying! It was not my time yet, but soon. For a year I had relentlessly pursued the truth. Banged on the doors to heaven, and rattled the gates of hell. I had been persistent, down right determined to discover the truth, and I had.

There was a God, my baby was in heaven, and my life on this earth was drawing to a close.