Lester B. Taylor, a 60-year-old security guard, suffered full cardiac arrest during watch-night service at C.N. Jenkins Memorial Presbyterian Church. The American Heart Association estimates that more than 95 percent of cardiac arrest victims die before reaching a hospital. Taylor credits a miracle.

Among the faithful at C.N. Jenkins Memorial Presbyterian Church, Lester B. Taylor is known for his enthusiastic praise. So during watch-night service on New Year’s Eve, when Taylor sat quietly in his pew, those around him knew instinctively that something was wrong.

The 60-year-old security guard moments earlier had been on his feet, as was more customary, shouting “Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!”

Now he sat passively, sweating profusely, his color gone.

Debra Taylor, his wife of seven months, was in the church kitchen, preparing food.

“Is Mr. Lester diabetic?” someone rushed in to inquire.

“No,” she replied.

Within seconds Debra Taylor was in the church vestibule, where her husband had been taken and laid out on the floor. His skin felt clammy. And scariest of all, those who attended to him said they could detect no pulse.

Inside the sanctuary, the watch-night service paused. Worshipers prayed, prayed, prayed that all would be well.

Out in the vestibule, someone began administering CPR.

The time was roughly 11:30 p.m.

A killer that few survive

No one at the church knew it then, but Taylor was in full cardiac arrest – not a heart attack; his heart had simply stopped.

By the time paramedics arrived, a faint but irregular beat was felt. They cut off his clothes and administered shock.

The American Heart Association estimates that more than 95 percent of cardiac arrest victims die before reaching a hospital.

“Brain death and permanent death start to occur in just 4 to 6 minutes...” the group’s Web site states. “A victim's chances of survival are reduced by 7 to 10 percent with every minute that passes without CPR and defibrillation. Few attempts at resuscitation succeed after 10 minutes.”

On Tuesday, a smiling Lester Taylor lay in a Presbyterian Hospital bed recalling the ordeal, testifying to all who came near, his wife by his side.

“This was not the way I wanted to bring in the New Year,” he said, “but I’m just glad to be in the number.”

He recalled vividly the moments before it all went dark.

“We were having a time and a half,” he said. “The spirit was so high. The harmony was there. God was working in such a powerful way. I was so built-up inside, trying not to shout.”

That’s when Taylor said he began to see spots and decided to sit down. His next recollection was of paramedics stuffing him into an ambulance, his Sunday suit cut asunder.

The Taylors credit a miracle

On Tuesday, doctors implanted a defibrillator into Taylor’s chest. The device is designed to jump-start his heart should it ever stop again, but they could offer no explanation for why his heart had stopped in the first place.

Ironically, Taylor had played the role of Joseph last month in the church’s Christmas play. A fellow church member dropped by the hospital and quipped that he had now played the role of Lazarus as well.

“You’d better be glad he wasn’t a quiet person,” another joked to Debra Taylor. “He might have died in the seat and members wouldn’t have noticed.”

Where some might curse misfortune, the Taylors see a miracle: At least three people in the church that night had some levels of medical training.

“The cardiac arrest could have happened anywhere,” Debra Taylor said. “The miracle is that he was right where he was and having the people there who knew what to do.”

Added Lester Taylor: “God had set it up, the timing and the people who were there. (The world) doesn’t believe in miracles anymore, but God had a chance to minister to the whole church that night.”

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