In 1981 I was happily beginning a new journey of life. During that spring, the LORD had made it extremely clear that He wanted me to follow Him in a life of ministry. I had made a public commitment in my then home church in the city of Hemet, California. Shortly after this commitment, the pastor and deacons evaluated my call and doctrinal understanding, and when satisfied issued a license to the Gospel Ministry.
As a young believer, less than three years in Christ, all of this was new to me. I depended heavily upon my pastor to guide me through the next steps of the process. Over the next few months, I had applied to Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Ft. Worth, Texas. Also, during these months, I was in negotiations over an on the job injury where I had fractured my back. Long story short, after I had told the representative from the State of California about my call to ministry and plan to attend school in Texas, it was decided that the State would pay for my move to Texas and cover the costs of tuition and books while there. This is a God thing because the State of California does not consider ministry to be a viable occupation. The representative said this was unheard of; he was shocked.
Fast forward to the fall of 1981, my first semester of seminary, my wife, Ruthi, and I were struggling with school, work, and raising four young kids; the youngest being twins under a year old. Part of our needed family routine was to find a church where we could worship, fellowship, and serve. In the South, as we quickly found out, there are churches on every corner so it took a few weeks to settle in where we felt the LORD wanted us.
In October, we joined Gambrell Street Baptist Church, where Dr. Joel Gregory was our pastor. Pastor Joel was the finest preacher I had ever sat under, and he still is a great articulator of the Word of God.
One of the requirements for new members was to participate in a New Members Class which took several Sunday evenings, one of which was a guided tour of the multi-story building. The tour included both climbing and ascending several staircases on the night we took the tour. It was November the 6th, as I recall. Later that night, after we had arrived back home, I began to experience moderate chest pain. I figured it would soon pass and I went into the living room to sit and relax, if I could, until it eased up. The problem, it did not get better, it was getting worse by the minute.
Ruthi began to notice I was having trouble and asked if I needed her to call someone. Being young and macho, my usual answer would be that I did not need any help, “I got this.” Only, this time I knew I needed help, and I asked her to call someone to help.
After she called 9-1-1, paramedics arrived and told her that based on my color, an ashen-grey, and other symptoms; they felt I was having a heart attack. Soon an ambulance arrived, and the attendants too, felt I was experiencing heart distress in the form of a dangerous attack. They rushed me to the Emergency where the ER doctor immediately began to treat multiple medicines of which I do not recall, other than Morphine. They seemed to be giving me a lot of Morphine. Very quickly they brought in a Cardiologist. He also determined I was experiencing heart attacks. I was later told I had experienced what they referred to as four massive heart attacks; the last one being the worst. I recall the pain of that one very vividly. It was so severe that there were many attendants and nurses holding me on the bed. It was at this point the Cardiologist suggested Ruthi should go home and be with our babies, as he suspected I would not survive the night.
When I awoke the next morning, I lay in bed and tried to recall what had happened and why I was still alive. It was in that moment of prayerful contemplation that I clearly heard the voice of God in my spirit saying, “Jerry, you’re going to be all right.”
Later, I told Ruthi what I had heard God say, and she said rather strongly and fearfully, “Do you mind if I get a second opinion?”
Further testing was the order of the day. Toward the afternoon the doctor arrived to go over my tests. The doctor listed all the tests they had conducted and he simply said, “Mr. McCullah, we can find no damage or any other evidence that would even suggest that you have had a heart attack.”
My response was, “God said I was going to be all right.”
The doctor then asked if I had any other medical conditions he should know about. I mentioned I had had a hernia on my esophagus and had been on a special diet for seven years. He said if that had torn it could have caused that severe pain.
More testing and x-rays that afternoon. The doctor returned somewhat dazed and confused. He said, “Mr. McCullah, there is no indication that you have ever had a hernia on your esophagus!”
I looked at Ruthi and exclaimed, “There’s your second opinion!”
God had healed my heart and hernia completely!
