Walking through Dark Valleys
Yung Suk Kim
I remember that day when I was about 10 years old. Life seemed empty. After school, I would hide my head in the folded blankets in my room. At age 13, I lost my mother, who meant everything to me. It was so sudden that I did not know the full implications of that event. She was a devout Christian, a single mother, and a model of faith and love. However, I was positive and thought the sudden death of my mother would not defeat me because I believed in God. I even thought I would become a better person through this challenging time. Obviously, this early childhood experience has significantly impacted me knowingly or unknowingly for my life so far. It will continue to do so.
At age 15, one day after school, I came down with a severe fever and thought it was just the flu. However, a week later, I was diagnosed with meningitis and lost three days of my memory while I was hospitalized. After three days, I got to normalcy and stayed in the hospital for about a month. Antibiotics worked very well. Everything returned to normal. The doctor told me, "You are lucky because the survival rate for this disease is close to zero. Usually, 50% of patients get paralyzed, and the other 50% die." I realized that God saved me from that disease when I was 15. I thanked God and reflected on his care and will for me. Again, this experience has carved me very much, pushing my mind to seek the ultimate meaning of life.
Much time has passed since then. I forgot about my past illness or turmoil. I was full of secular visions and ambitions in life. I graduated from college (Kyungpook National University) and passed a job interview and test for a promising company. I got a medical exam and felt genuinely happy about my first job. However, the following day, I received a call from the company informing me that I had been found to have a severe liver disease. As a result, I was denied the opportunity to work with them. I was utterly disappointed. It was a bombshell to my dream and crushed me to the bottom.
Then I needed to focus on my health for some time, going through a dark period. I eventually recovered. The key to my recovery was complete rest. During this time, I wrote reflections about God, myself, and the world around me. I showed resilience and returned to a normal life.
Later, I found a new job at a bigger company called Gold Star (now LG Electronics), married a beautiful woman, and had three adorable daughters. Our family life seemed happy. A few years later, in 1991, my company sent me to its foreign operation in Panama, and our family moved there. Later, we relocated to Miami to establish the company’s branch office. Looking back on my life, however, I was not very happy. I pondered the future and realized I did not find much joy in my work. Then I thought about my childhood religious experience. Through ups and downs, turns and twists, I made a big decision after consulting with my wife. That is to study theology and become a pastor. This decision was the most radical one in my life and family.
Our family then moved from Miami to Chicago, which took three days to reach by car. After earning my Master of Divinity (M.Div) from McCormick Theological Seminary, I pursued a Ph.D. in New Testament studies from Vanderbilt University, and our family moved to Nashville, Tennessee. I then secured my first second-career job as a professor in Richmond, Virginia. My family paid much for my decision. I owe them a lot. Life seemed okay as I have been successful in my academic work in teaching, researching, and publishing. All my daughters graduated from colleges and graduate schools. They got married.
Out of the blue, one day, I fell ill with a severe form of anxiety. It was March 2023. One early morning, I woke up and could not stay in bed because I could not breathe easily, being soaked with sweat. I felt drained both physically and mentally. I found myself in a long tunnel of despair. Unlike other difficulties in my life, this time I had an issue of mental infirmity. When I hit rock bottom, I felt like nothing—a broken reed, dust, and vapor. Breathing became difficult, eating lost its appeal, and everything around me felt frightening. Each day stretched on without relief, and the prospect of tomorrow felt like hell. Oh, Lord, the world no longer looked the same. Movement was a struggle, seeing felt pointless, and speaking was burdensome. I went through a long tunnel of personal soul-searching, pouring my heart to the Lord like Hannah. I journaled, cried, exercised, sang, and taught myself newly.
Gradually, I started to feel my breath returning. One day, I dreamt of emerging from that deep ditch. I regained my vitality, and the world began to look different. I realized that God is everywhere, and the miracle of life is everywhere. Living is simply breathing; every inhale and exhale is a miracle.
Today is a gift I have been given, and tomorrow is beyond my control, but I trust that the Lord is always with me. I continued to write about my experiences with mental challenges, and I plan to write a couple of books about this journey.
I was reborn with turbulence, and now I try to see things freshly through the eyes of this humbling experience.
A few months later, I began writing the Acknowledgments for my new book, How to Read the Gospels.
I want to express my gratitude to God for allowing me to write and complete this book. During the peak of my writing, I encountered a physical and mental struggle unlike anything I had experienced before. I found it challenging to manage myself and my time, yet I continued to research and write despite these adversities. I poured out my soul to the Lord, much like Hannah, and committed to both physical and spiritual exercise while reflecting deeply on myself and the world around me. Gradually, God lifted me from this seemingly insurmountable challenge. I regained my vitality and returned to the rhythm of my life. This book is a testament to my journey through that wilderness test lasting more than 40 days.
My journey continues. I don't know how my life will unfold. But I know I am not in vain.
Like a vapor, I am evanescent.
Like a reed, I am wavering.
Like dust, I am small.
But I'm not vanity.
I am a gift of God.