This story takes place on the Algerian mediteranean coast in the city of Annaba and in Constantine, my home town in the mountains.
When I was 14 years old, in August, the hottest month of the year, while on vacation at my uncle´s beach house, I suffered a heat stroke as I fell asleep on the beach at noon time when the temperature can reach 120 F. I had suffered heat strokes before, but never as severe as that one. Back home in the mountains, during the following week, besides the usual symptoms, I experienced an altered mental state and behavior.
You have to understand a little background. At age 11, when the civil war started, I was a student at a Catholic boarding school hearing all these wonderful things about the love of God. I went to Mass everyday, early in the morning, even serving as an altar boy - at that time the service was all in Latin. I went every week to Catechism, to confession and communion after having fasted the night and morning before.
Each following year, after Christmas, Easter and summer vacations ended, I was so happy and looking forward to see my friends again. Instead, some of them came back with some bullet or knife wounds, some of them didn´t come back at all, their whole families massacred in terrorist attacks on their farms. We used to go to funerals almost every month. Some of my friends were tortured. One question that we discussed a lot with my confused friends looking for real spiritual answers to the senseless life we were experiencing was: "How could a loving God allow such horrific acts of violence perpetrated on innocent victims?"
Already living for quite a few years with untreated depression that was exacerbated by the heat stroke, I felt incapable of telling my parents what was going on inside my head, there would be too much to tell. Until then, the only outlet for my frustration and my pent up anger was to bang my head on the walls and acting out against authority at Catholic boarding schools. All I was thinking was to end the nightmare, by releasing the prisoner from my own painful silence. Without any help from family, friends, relatives or a mental health professional to share with, after reviewing all the possible ways of ending it all, I finally went for the quickest solution.
I was holding my father´s loaded gun to my head, ready to pull the trigger when I heard the soft inner voice of God (through the Holy Spirit or an angel, I still don´t know) prompting me:
" Jean-Louis, put the gun down, as long as there is life, there is hope".
This is the single sentence which God used to save my life. He knows everything about you and is able to save you too if you find yourself in the same pit of despair.
A few days later, after recovering, life continued as usual. It didn´t get any better, in fact it got worse, but I am alive and doing well and able to tell you that there is hope and life in trusting and knowing the God of the Bible who listens, who hears, who sees and acts to rescue those like me who reached the end of the line, who face an immovable wall and cry out to him in despair.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. Romans 15:13
If you are not born again and desire to know how to be born of the Spirit to a new life in Jesus-Christ, here is a link that will help you understand the process which will help you to put your trust and know God your Heavenly Father and his Son Jesus-Christ who died for you because of his great love and care for you.
http://www.gotquestions.org/born-again.html