#obesssive

Drowning. Dying alone. Small holes grouped together. We all have a “worst fear.” Mine? Being forsaken by God.

Among the cornerstones of Christian doctrine is the concept of “salvation,” or the state of being pardoned from the consequences of sin- the direst being separation from God. The equation is simple: the saved enjoy Heaven, the unsaved go to Hell. Though the Bible partly alludes to “Hell” as a place, I personally think the essence of Hell is God’s absence. In other words, Hell is where God isn’t (and conversely, Heaven is where God is).

Since the beginning of my faith journey, I’ve always feared that my faith was phony, or I mistakenly equated an emotional spiritual experience as evidence of salvation (it isn’t). Essentially, I was afraid of being unsaved… or worse, forsaken by God due to all my sinning. The sermons I remember most are based on precautionary Bible stories suggesting that God allows the heart to become hardened by habitual and intentional sin (Exod. 7:3, Rom. 1:28)- a habitual and intentional sinning that I believed I was guilty of.

“How could a real believer continue to look at pornography?” “How can a Christian have such cruel intentions?” “How could a regenerate mind still harbor thoughts of unspeakable depravity?” I’ve examined the evidence at every thinkable angle. And the more I assess and reassess the fruits of my living, I notice deeper corruption with every inspection, fortifying my conclusion: despite my many failed attempts at repentance, I’m no Christian. God has forsaken me. I’m damned.

For those of you unfamiliar with the contemporary Christian worship service format, there is often designated periods of time in which the speaker invites the non-believing attendees in the audience to dedicate their lives to Christ. In some churches, the speaker invites the non-believer to physically stand at the foot of the stage, heightening the symbolic impact and solemnity of the moment (there’s a lot of other reasons why we do this, but that’s for later). This “altar call” signifies the moment(s) of transformation. The moment(s) the soul is reborn. The moment(s) of salvation.

A Billy Graham Crusade, Greg Laurie’s Crusades, like two or three different youth summer camps… I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone up to the altar to dedicate my life to Christ.

Throughout my journey, I have discussed with every spiritual mentor my persistent fears of being unsaved. Though each of them had their unique style about them, every response was sewn with a common thread: I need to accept God’s grace. 

“Grace,” you ask? Christian “grace” is receiving from God any good thing that is undeserved, unearned, and unmerited. For example, the salvation I was speaking of earlier is an act of God’s grace; in other words, being “saved” is a gift of God- no particular action that I can (or cannot) do makes me worthy (or unworthy) of God pardoning my sins (Eph. 2). Through gentle counsel, I gradually discovered that my perception of God might be contorted, and I have adopted illegitimate conditions of salvation contingent upon moral performance (or lack thereof). “Legalism,” they call it. And for Christians, that’s baaaaad.

Though this truth made sense in my head, I still doubted my salvation and continued to reevaluate my life, respond to every altar call, repeat every sinner’s prayer, fast, pray... nothing worked. I often heard that a “peace that surpasses all understanding” is a sign of God’s exploits. I frankly don’t even know what peace means- can’t say I ever felt it. Ever. What’s wrong with me?!

In my mid-20’s, I was introduced to the Reformed Theology of the Protestant Reformation and the writings of John Calvin and his contemporaries. Since sentience, I was inculcated with Christian ideas so though discovering nothing “new” about God through the eyes of the Reformers, I believe I began to see aspects of God more correctly. Aspects such as God’s sovereignty, His elect, His predestination- concepts I previously thought little of. However, in exploring this new perspective, the pivotal realization that God’s absolute sovereignty could mean that God ultimately decides who goes to Heaven or Hell, made me uneasy. I have even heard statements to the effect of: “whoever God saves, He will save, no matter what that man does.” This, in Calvin’s terms, is called “irresistible grace.”

To my devastation, this also implies that whoever God doesn’t choose to save cannot be saved (no matter what he does), like Esau who cried bitterly but was unable to repent (Heb 12:17). I believed that this explained my perpetual feelings of being unsaved: perhaps I was just not destined to be saved. No matter what I did. I can’t be saved. It was God’s plan since the beginning to forsake me.

(Sorry in advance) This skewed interpretation really ****ed me up. My mid and late twenties was the darkest night of my soul, spawning crippling seasons of debilitating paranoia, and brooding creative projects (“I don’t need your help I’ll be okay. You’re too late to save me anyway.”). I pleaded for God while simultaneously believing that His face was turned away. In this perceived absence, I felt I was truly in Hell.

In 2020, I had somewhat of a psychiatric breakdown. The simultaneous resurfacing of past paranoias, the unravelling of new heartbreak, and a looming sentiment of doom created a perfect storm of hopelessness. I began to manifest profound physical symptoms like unilateral weakness, clonus and fasciculations, insomnia, and seemingly progressive loss of muscle function. My knowledge as a nursing instructor abetted catastrophic self-diagnoses and obsessive fixations upon my symptoms, convincing me that I was literally dying in August of 2020. Social media fueled my panic, forcing me to abandon my online networks and isolate from the world. But while I was alone, I did nothing but think and re-think. Examine and re-examine. Assess and re-assess. I didn’t sleep much.

*Takes a deep breath* Let’s skip ahead. Not long ago, I decided to seek therapy. In therapy, I discovered something that would change my life.

I strongly fit the criteria for obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD).

There are different variations (I have specific ones I won’t get into now) but the gist of OCD is the alternation of “obsessions” and “compulsions.” An obsession is a repeated, intrusive thought. A compulsion is performing a certain action in response to the thought. Like many people, when I think of OCD, I think of irrational fears of asymmetry and disorganization, a fear of contamination or uncleanliness, or peculiar habits like checking the stove ten times before leaving the house. Then it hit me…

Wait. That IS me.

But there’s more to it. A compulsion to an obsessive thought doesn’t necessarily mean a physical action. It could be a mental action- in other words, certain thoughts (or “triggers”) invoke certain mental responses. For example, in the “religious” or “moral OCD” subtype, whenever a person commits a morally reprehensible act, their mental response is the crippling fear that they have angered a deity (or questioning their salvation), and their physical response could be persistent, ritualistic behaviors of absolution (like confessing sins to a priest, reciting religious incantations, participating in religious ceremonies [like altar calls]). Then it hit me…

Wait. That IS me.

Suddenly, the agony of being unsaved since a youth, my tireless self-diagnosing and fear of imminent doom, my habit of checking doors, lights, air-conditioners, faucets, and burner controls several times before leaving the house, my meticulous perfectionism and punctuality, my obsession for cleanliness and organization, my strict minimalism, and a slew of other unmentionable problems that causes me to overthink, catastrophize, and agonize… it all makes perfect sense now. I’ve had OCD since I was kid.

With this new discovery, I realize that I am saved. I do believe I am swallowed by God’s grace! But my obsessive-compulsive tendencies have been berating me since the beginning. There’s still a lot I need to figure out. My journey has only begun.

Before I wrap this up, this discovery opens major questions. I would love to hear your opinions:

To what extent (if any) can mental health disorders be categorized as “spiritual warfare?”

Why do some sects of Christianity tend to diminish the plight of mental health disorders?

Why are mental health disorders especially stigmatized among some Asian-American Christians?

Aaaaand that’s how John Calvin exposed my OCD. Now you know the story behind “faith and paranoia.”