Many years ago, when I was 13, I began to have disturbing and fearful thoughts. I couldn’t sleep at night for fear that I would die and most certainly go to Hell. I remember crouching in my closet in the dead of night foolishly thinking that hiding there would somehow protect me. Oddly, I seemed quite normal all day long; the fears gripped me only in the dark. My parents became aware of my behavior and were understandably frightened by it. They tried to encourage me by telling me that I was God’s beloved child. But nothing they said or did could ward off my dread.