WHAT
DOES IT FEEL LIKE TO DIE AND WHAT COMES AFTER THAT – ONE MAN’S ACCOUNT
It was just after midnight on a cold winter
morning in East Texas as I groped my way down the hallway from our living room
to the hallway bathroom. Even if the
lights had been on, I couldn’t have seen anything. Both of my eyes were blinded with pus, the
aftermath of a fiery explosion that had occurred three days previously in that
same hallway. Keeping my burned right hand tucked against my chest, I felt for
the bathroom door with the left and pushed my way in. I advanced cautiously until
I felt the cool tiles of the sink against the front of my legs.
An extraordinary thing had just happened
moments ago and I wanted to see for myself what had occurred. I fumbled with the faucet until I heard water
gush into the sink and then splashed the cold water into my face, rinsing my
eyes and cooling the scorched skin of my face. When my eyes were clear of pus,
I groped around until I found a towel to dry off my face. With my good left hand I groped some more
until I found the light switch. Bright light flooded the small room and for a
moment I was too dazed to see anything.
Then my vision cleared and I looked into the
mirror above the sink. After a few
blinks I could see again. I could see! That alone was wonderful. The searing pain from infection and the rust
particles that had lodged in my eyes from the explosion was gone. Moreover, the pus which had constantly
blurred my vision was gone too! It was
wonderful! I looked at my face and noted
that the singed hair was still there and my eyebrows were still gone, but the
red, second degree burns on the skin of my face were faded and nearly gone! I
grinned in delight, not minding that my hair was a mess and I looked otherwise rather
pale, even for winter.
I WAS
ALIVE!
I had always been aware of how special it is
to be alive. From time to time I had reflected on this incredible miracle and
taken joy from many simple things like hot showers, just breathing, gazing at a
sunset or idly flexing the fingers of my hands.
But that morning it all had a new and more powerful meaning for me. I had just come back from the dead moments
before. In less than the space of ten
minutes I had died, glimpsed heaven and hell, met God, seen many mysteries
revealed and come back again. My heart
pounded in my chest and my mind reeled with excitement at what I had just
experienced. ‘What’s next?’ I wondered.
Cool water from my hair ran down the side on
my face and dripped from my chin as I reflected back on what had brought me to
that moment.
I had recently been laid off from a contract
engineering position with a local manufacturer. It was 1995, the local economy wasn’t
exactly booming and consequently I had little money and no insurance. A couple of years before, in better times, we
had bought a little fixer-upper house in a working class neighborhood. My wife
and I poured everything we had into making it a cozy little home for our
growing family. Now, even the modest
mortgage and carefully watched utilities rapidly drained away most of the small
income I managed to earn at odd jobs here and there.
So, when the old, decrepit gas furnace that
heated our home began failing, I tried to apply my mechanical talents to
repairing it. Normally, it would have
been a simple matter of replacing the old, corroded pilot light and rusty
burners. But there was no money for
spare parts. Therefore, I fiddled with
these as best I could.
Despite my best efforts, the furnace still
would go out, typically in the middle of the night and characteristically when
the weather was coldest. It was an older
model that did not have a safety feature to prevent the natural gas it burned from
being sent to the burners if the pilot light was out. So, even when the pilot light was out, it
would continue to send gas to the burners in a futile attempt to heat the
house. Naturally, as the house became
colder, the furnace would cycle more frequently and even more gas would be
pumped into the air. It was a dangerous
situation.
After several weeks of this, I had developed a
routine. When I smelled gas or sensed by
the coldness of the air that the pilot light had gone out, I would go to the
furnace, shut off the gas and turn on the exhaust until no more gas could be
smelled. Then I would relight the pilot
light and watch it until it was burning steadily and did not go out. Only after that did I turn on the gas to the
burners and restart the furnace. As a
final precaution I would stand and watch the furnace for awhile to be sure it
was operating correctly.
On that fateful night I had lost count of how
many times the furnace had gone out. I
was groggy from lack of sleep and probably the gas fumes too. It was about 3
a.m. when I once again felt the bite of the cold and smelled gas. Weary and
frustrated, I stumbled out of bed and shuffled down the hallway to the furnace
closet. I can still remember thinking
how simple it would be just to toss a match into the furnace and ignite the
burners without all the tedious preliminaries I had been following up until then.
Some other part of my mind was alarmed and warned me of how dangerous and
foolish this idea was. I dismissed it as
unreasonable and over cautious and was sure if I stood back far enough any
burst of flame would be inconsequential.
Since childhood I had tinkered with fire in various forms and always
been lucky.
Not tonight.
Gripping the large box of wooden, strike-anywhere
matches in my left-hand; I struck a single match and with one smooth motion that
sent the flaming splinter of wood straight into the burner section of the
furnace.
I didn’t even see it land.
A bright flash filled my entire vision and I
felt as if a large, hot and heavy mattress had suddenly walloped me from the front.
The trajectory my body described was linear and very short before my back hit
the opposite wall of the hallway and I slumped to the floor. I don’t recall much of a sound from the
explosion, perhaps a soft “whoosh!” My ears were not ringing after the
explosion and nothing was in flames afterwards, not even the stubborn old furnace!
No one else in the house awoke and I sat in the dark hallway for a moment
collecting my thoughts.
I was still alive and intact, and didn’t feel
any pain. I sighed, realizing I’d been foolish, but thankful I had escaped
serious injury, or so I thought.
The hall light wasn’t on. I didn’t need it
since I knew my way from the bedroom to the furnace so well and I hated the
bright light after waking from sleep. So
I had to feel my way to the bathroom where I turned on the light. I wanted to
see what sort of damage had been done, expecting singed eyebrows and crinkled
hair as had been the case a few times before with flammable experiments gone
awry. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light before I could see
clearly what I’d done to myself.
The frightening sight and the searing pain
hit me simultaneously. Both were
shocking. My eyebrows were completely
gone and the hair around my face was badly singed. The skin of my face and my right arm where it
extended out of my pajama sleeve were bright red. My right hand was all red and charred about
the thumb and forefinger. Instinctively
I thrust my burned hand under a gush of cold water from the sink faucet. But that did little to relieve the horrible
pain from the burn. I groaned, realizing what I could expect to endure for some
time to come.
The next few days were dominated by two
things: pain and humiliation. There was
no respite day or night from the searing pain in my hand; nor was there relief
from my spouse who had no sympathy for me and my self-inflicted injuries. I had
no money to spare for a doctor’s visit, no insurance due to the greed of my
ex-employer and no government help due to my youth and recent employment
status. When even prayer brought no relief, I resorted to doctoring
myself.
That was not a good decision. Rust had been blown into my eyes and flames
had seared my throat and nasal passages. Infection quickly set in and soon my
eyes filled with pus and my throat became so raw I could not swallow my own
saliva without agony. My regime of treatment was quite primitive. I soaked my burned hand in ice water, took
some antihistamines, read the Bible and prayed for relief. Reading
was difficult since I had to rinse my eyes frequently, but I was desperately
searching for some passage that I might have overlooked on healing. I read Ole
Hallesby’s book “Prayer” seeking guidance too, but though I learned some
valuable lessons, did not find what I sought.
At night I tried to sleep, but instead
thrashed about in bed so much that my spouse insisted I go sleep on the couch.
This hurt my feelings, and seemed unreasonable since the couch was too short
for me to lie on. But I was not in a mood to fight and tried to settle on the
couch in the living room where I was already spending most of my day anyway. I would lie there, propped up on one arm
rest, reading with a book in my left hand and letting my right hand rest in a
bowl of ice water on the floor. My hand was like a yo-yo, going down to seek
the relief of the cool water and then retreating when chill blains set in.
It was about midnight on the third night after
the explosion when I was trying unsuccessfully to rest on the couch. Pain and exhaustion
were almost all I could think about. My hand throbbed with pain, my throat
burned and my eyes stung badly. I could
not eat, drink or read at that point, and was desperate for sleep. Finally, I had had enough of my cramped
position on the couch and decided to lay out the couch cushions on the floor so
I could at least lie horizontally. ‘Perhaps
then’, I reasoned, ‘I could at least rest.’
What I didn’t realize was that being propped up on the couch was keeping
me alive! For the seared tissues in my
lungs had been leaking fluid; and the lower portions of my lungs had filled
with water. As I lay the cushions together on the floor, my thoughts were only
on how good it would feel to lie down and get some rest. I had no idea what was about to happen.
A moment later I stretched out on my back and
enjoyed the small but significant pleasure of being able to lie down without my
legs being bent under me or the couch armrest digging into my back. For a few moments I lay there relaxing, until
I realized my hand hurt again. I had
forgotten the bowl of ice water and would have to get up to retrieve it.
Only I discovered I couldn’t rise.
Suddenly my body had become weak and
unresponsive and I felt as if I were smothering. Although I didn’t know then that the fluid in
my lungs had spilled up into the upper portions, I did know I couldn’t breath. I realized the danger I was in. It was late at night, almost exactly midnight,
everyone was asleep, and no one would check on me until morning. I tried to cry
out, but had no voice. I was trapped,
suffocating in my own living room, unable to help myself and unable to summon
help. I realized my only help now would
have to come from God, so I began to pray silently in my mind.
Now I do know how to pray, and in those
desperate moments as my life ebbed away I composed some of the most eloquent
and well considered prayers I have ever prayed.
But nothing happened. I felt my mind continue to shut down as the brain
absorbed the diminishing oxygen from my blood.
I continued to pray, a few paragraphs, then a paragraph, then a few
sentences, then a sentence at a time. No
response.
My ears began ringing and my heart rate
increased dramatically. I knew from underwater swimming that these were signs
of oxygen deprivation. I became desperate and fearful, knowing death was
imminent. A peaceful resignation began to come over me, but I determined to
fight it. Finally I realized it was almost over and I had only enough
consciousness remaining to pray one last word.
It had to be chosen carefully, it was my last chance, and must
count. I chose carefully the word
“Help!” and put behind it the clear intention that I sought any help God would
give me on any terms He would offer.
Suddenly the pain was gone as were the
sensations of exhaustion and hunger. My
mind was clear, and I felt vital and alive again. My prayer had been answered! I was elated and
immediately stood up. What I saw surprised and amazed me. It was night and there were no lights on in
the living room. Yet the room appeared brightly lit, with no shadows; for there
was no apparent source of illumination. Normally
I wear glasses for a severe astigmatism, but I could see perfectly clearly. All
my other senses seemed remarkably enhanced too.
I could hear the slightest noise, even far away. A severe case of the influenza during my
undergraduate studies had robbed me of much of my sense of smell, but now my
sense of smell was very keen and I smelled and discriminated odors I had never
noticed before. I was delighted,
assuming I had been miraculously healed.
That was until I looked down where I had lain.
There, on the couch cushions, my body lay,
still and silent. In an instant I realized I had died. For a moment I was sad
and fearful, wondering what the full implication of that was. Then I took stock
of the situation. It wasn’t as bad as
might have been expected. My personality
was still intact and had survived the death of my body. I was still me,
self-aware and a quick check confirmed I still retained all the memories of my
life experience. In fact, though
ordinarily my memory is slow and fallible, my memory at that moment was
remarkably complete and accurate with total recall and very rapid processing
and analytical capabilities. I felt alive and healthier than I had ever
felt. All pain and discomfort was gone,
not just from my injuries, but also chronic back pain from scoliosis I had always
endured and other things.
I tested out my new senses, trying vision
first. I found I had the ability to
focus on objects with total clarity, even to the blades of grass in my
neighbor’s lawn across the street or microscopic particles of dust on the wires
of the window screen before me. I could not test it further though, because
houses and trees blocked my vision beyond a few hundred yards and I could not
see through them. When listening, I
could hear small animals and insects moving about inside and outside that would
normally have required sophisticated listening devices. I regret that I did not
look in a mirror to see if I could see myself, but in the drama of the moment
that did not occur to me. I could feel that I had two arms and two legs and used
them normally as I had in my physical body.
When I held my hand in my field of vision, I did not clearly see a hand
as I did the physical objects around me. It was more like a faint wisp of steam
that maintained its shape.
Next, I began to go about the house, testing
my ability at locomotion. It was not
exactly walking. I willed myself to move
in a direction with a certain velocity and that’s what happened. It seemed
perfectly natural and effortless as if I had always done this at some previous
time. I suppose I could have moved up and flown, or dived beneath the floor as
easily as I moved in the horizontal plane, but didn’t think to try that either.
First I went to my daughter’s bedroom to check on her. The door was closed and I found my hand could
not grip the door knob but passed through it.
So I moved directly through the door and stood by her bed.
My intention was to wake her and tell her was
had happened. I felt it important to
assure her I was OK and was going to watch over her. However, I could not make any sound or touch
her in a way that would wake her. So I
just looked at the sleeping child and felt sorrow that I would not be able to
care for her. It then occurred to me that my wife was not fit to raise the
children alone, and I became concerned.
Then I went into my son’s bedroom and watched him sleep. I couldn’t wake him either, so I just stood
there and wondered what his fate would be when I was gone. This made me sad as I looked at his peaceful
face half buried in the pillow, blond hair tousled in sleep. Lastly, I went back
into the hallway with a vague intention of looking in on my wife, but decided
against it and went back to the living room.
My body was still there, and I was wondering
if there was a way to revive it when I felt a new sensation. It was akin to the feeling when you are
scared by something unknown in the darkness and the hair on the back of your
next rises up. A palpable feeling of
evil began to permeate the room and I feel distinct emanations of intense hatred.
Suddenly, through the south west corner of
the living room came two dark, man-sized figures. They were shaped like tall, muscular but lean
men, covered entirely in coarse, black hair and with white fangs in open red
mouths, they has gleaming yellow slits for eyes and curving black claws on all
ten digits. They each carried a set of manacles and they were laughing.
They didn’t speak to me in the conventional
sense, but projected their thoughts directly into my mind. It was a raucous burst of thoughts, emotions
and images. They had very wild, chaotic minds. Thoughts of hunger dominated
their thinking. It was clear to me that
they didn’t regard me as a person, a human being with personality, awareness,
emotions, feelings and purpose, but merely as food and fuel. They intended to capture me and take me back
with them to hell for consumption and endless, brutal torture for their
entertainment.
The whole exchange lasted mere moments, but
the amount of information exchanged was staggering. I had a glimpse of hell
which showed me it is a mind-blowing, horrific place of suffering and abuse
that are beyond the pale efforts of language to describe. Hunger, exhaustion,
sickness, thirst, trauma, torment, all beyond human measure, without relief,
without hope, without respite. I
received a vision of senseless, lawless, chaotic, purposeless existence at the
mercy of implacable hostile powers. I
was horrified and desperate. To them it was home, and they seemed perfectly adapted
to such a perverse environment.
I protested that this was not right. I was a believing, practicing Christian. I had been assured of salvation and of being
admitted to heaven when I died. I had publicly
professed Christ as savior, been baptized, studied the scriptures, prayed and
attended church regularly and even been a Sunday school teacher and church trustee.
I was considered a model Christian by many and had done all that the church had
taught me, well beyond most of my peers.
The creatures laughed at this.
They flooded my mind with a remarkably
complete and well organized list of all the sins I had not properly confessed
and repented of. From late childhood
through to the present they recalled everything from a filched paperclip to an
unpaid bill. They knew of every instance of an unkind word, copied homework,
cheating on exams, absolutely every lie, each selfish act, and etc. Thankfully they did not appear to have known
my personal thoughts, but that was little consolation. For I could feel they were extremely powerful
and my own strength was inadequate to resist.
In a moment I would be dragged away to eternal damnation.
The creatures went on to gloat that they had
been with me all of my life and they had been constantly working towards this
moment. They had been trying to tempt and kill me so they could compromise my
relationship with God and harvest my soul. Images came to mind of multiple
incidents, particularly in childhood, where I had narrowly escaped death. They couldn’t kill me outright, but they
could manipulate mine and other’s feelings and perceptions to cause us to make
bad decisions that lead to tragedy. The
incident with the furnace was only the latest.
Now they were ravenously hungry and impatient to have the fruit of their
labors.
I felt this wasn’t right, and I searched my
mind desperately for some way to escape this fate. The creatures (I suppose they were demons,
but they did not name themselves) were closing in on me and I knew there was only
one last opportunity and it had to be good. .Then I remembered what a man had
told me once at a house church meeting.
He was an unusual fellow and often talked about miracles, demons and
spiritual things outside of the normal, officially discussed church
subjects. He had given me books on the
gifts of the Holy Spirit, exorcism and such that I had dutifully read and
shelved after making little tangible progress on the subjects. However, one
thing he had said to me came back from memory. “If you ever meet a demon,
rebuke it in the name of Jesus Christ.” I don’t even recall his name now, but
he literally saved my life.
Immediately I sent the thought back to them,
“I rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ!”
Instantly they were gone, as if a wrecking
ball had hit them dead on and sent them back where they had come from.
Once again I stood in my living room alone,
with my body lying on the floor. I
looked around and wondered what my fate would be now. Was I rejected from both heaven and
hell? Would I wander disembodied until
Judgment Day perhaps or for eternity? I didn’t like that thought and was just
imagining that there might be other dangers and perils out there for a
disembodied spirit when the third remarkable thing happened.
I began to feel another emotion, like the
hatred I had felt earlier, but this time it was a profound sensation of
love. It was even more wonderful than
the hatred had been awful. A moment after I felt it, Jesus entered the living
room from the south east corner and stood facing me. There was no mistaking in whose presence I
stood. He looked just as I might have imagined Him, a tall Caucasian with shoulder
length brown hair, a short, full beard, hazel eyes and a white robe that hung
to his sandaled feet. He had a light blue cape slung over one shoulder as it
often is portrayed in the popular paintings I had seen in many churches. He did not speak to me, but as the demons
had, shared His thoughts with me telepathically.
First and foremost, Jesus let me know that
while He was perfectly aware of my sins and flaws, He accepted me just as I was
and loved me deeply and unconditionally. My relief was tremendous because I was
expecting a rebuke given the list of sins I had just been accused of. He let me
know that He was appearing to me as I expected Him to look so that I would be
comfortable with our meeting and He could appear any way to anyone as needed.
Then Jesus told me He had something to show me.
Suddenly the scene shifted and I found myself
standing with my Lord on the banks of a river in a tropical climate. Papyrus reeds grew tall and thick along the
banks and swarthy, dark haired people were fishing and washing in the river. I
presumed it was the Nile in ancient Egypt, but was given no explanation.
The Lord told me to build a boat from the reeds, so I did, making a vessel like
a canoe with high prows out of bundles of the reeds such as I had seen in books
on archaeology. It seemed to take little
time to build the boat, and all the tools and materials were readily at hand. I
understood we were to launch the boat into the river and sail down stream. Jesus stepped into the boat and I followed,
using a long wooden pole to push off and guide the boat.
Standing in the boat, we began to pass a
long, low island in the river.
Superimposed on the island was my prone body. It appeared translucent
and I could see through the skin, bone and muscles to the organs within. All the healthy organs were transparent, but
those damaged in the explosion were colored.
They eyeballs were black, the throat bright red and the lungs were a
mottled gray-blue/green. Jesus told me
that when I had been made, He had put the ability to heal in my spirit. Then He instructed me to stretch out my hands
toward the damaged organs and they would be healed. So I did.
As I reached out for each organ in turn, it became clear again as I felt
a current of energy flow from me to my prone body. I was partway through this
process when suddenly the demons returned and disrupted the vision. I found myself back in the living room
standing at the feet of my body. Jesus
warned me that I had to expel the demons if I wanted to finish healing my body. So I rebuked them again and they disappeared
without returning.
The vision resumed where it had left off and
I touched my eyes and watched them turn transparent. The healing was complete and the vision
ended. I was back in the living room,
standing before Jesus.
I felt only love, acceptance and kindness
from Him, but he sternly communicated to me that my sins had grieved Him and put
me in a terrible, dangerous predicament. They needed to be dealt with,
thoroughly. I expressed my sorrow and
regret for them and added my deep gratitude for being rescued from
damnation. Then suddenly I remembered a
book I had read during my college years: “Caught Up Into Paradise,” by Richard
Eby. In that book the author had told of
his own near death experience and how he’d seen heaven and returned to life
after his body was resuscitated. Although I found the book very encouraging and
enlightening, I had been disappointed that the author had asked very few
questions of God when the opportunity came.
I had many questions I felt were important that the book left
unanswered. So, after reading the book I
composed what I thought was a pretty comprehensive list of the questions I
would ask God if I ever had the chance.
However, as I stood there I realized that I
had just escaped from eternal damnation by the narrowest of margins and owed
everything to Christ. He owed me
nothing, let alone answers to questions that now seemed so trivial. Yet Jesus indicated
that He knew my thoughts, about my list of questions and was willing to give me
a response.
I was about to have the most incredible
experience I think anyone can relate.
The Lord is the ideal gentleman and perfectly
capable of anticipating and responding to the cleverest challenge any person
can present Him with. In my case He
dismissed my list and offered to answer His list. It was obvious to me that whatever
List Jesus might have would be far superior to what I had composed. So I
accepted and was invited to share His mind because mine was too small and
inadequate to comprehend either the questions or the answers that He proposed. In a moment I became one with God and shared
the mind of Christ, or at least a portion of it. I was perfectly conscious of my own self,
with all my memories and awareness of self intact, but also shared Christ’s
mind and knew all of His thoughts and knowledge. At least He shared with me
that portion of His mind dedicated to mankind.
I sensed there were other vast portions of His mind relating to other
things, but what I was allowed to share was only that which related to
mankind. As vast as that was, it was only
a miniscule fraction of the total that seemed endless in the brief glimpse I
had of it. His mind is very dynamic, perfectly orderly with absolute harmony
and an analytical capacity that is beyond description.
If I had been impressed at the capacity and
speed of my mind in the spirit, I was absolutely awed by Christ’s mind. It held every detail of every person that had
ever lived and would ever live. This information was perfectly organized and
could be retrieved and analyzed effortlessly without delay at the merest
thought about it.
The Lord then took us through a unique
exercise where we began by showing me the whole of human history from start to
finish. It took but a moment to
comprehend it in that state. Then we
began to look at how a change in some event, a decision, an action, a twist of
nature, any possible variation could affect that history. We started off small seeing how personal
decisions affected individual lives. Effortlessly we saw how this change spread
through time and circumstances and what the effects were. Then it became increasingly more complex as
more events and more individuals were involved.
I was allowed to propose variations on any given scenario. When I did, the Lord would show me how that
would turn out and then proposed other variations and showed how they would go
too. From this vantage point it became obvious that there is a wonderful
harmony with purpose and structure to human history that is not apparent from
an individual perspective.
There was a particular way He visualized this
that made things more easily understandable. The course of a person’s life was
like a thread that wove through the continuum of space and time. It began when they were conceived in the womb
and terminated when they died. There were four colors of threads, brownish
white, brownish yellow, gold and red. Parts of an individual thread might be
white or brown depending on how they had lived at that time – white for
selflessly, brown for selfishly. When a life had run its course, the thread
turned either red or gold. The vast
majority, perhaps 98% were red. The threads twisted together to form bundles
which represented social organizations: families, schools, communities, nations
and etc. Individual threads passed from
bundle to bundle as relationships changed or were rearranged, often returning
to mingle with bundles they had departed from earlier. Bundles of life-threads came together periodically
at nodes that represented critical events such as migrations, wars and mass
movements.
Jesus explained to me that at the junctions
were nodes where the history of mankind was particularly malleable and
informed, capable individuals could exert tremendous influence on the fate of
mankind at those times. That was in 1995. He showed me the next critical juncture of a
majority of the bundles would come in 1998 others would follow with nodes
occurring at different times in different places until they came together again
in the near future.
We continued the exercise until we had looked
at the ramifications of every possible variation in human history. While this
may seem like an impossible task from a strictly human perspective, it was
effortless and takes more time to tell about it than the actual exercise
involved. That is how great the mind of
our Lord is!
At the conclusion of the exercise I realized
there had been a common factor in all of the chains of events I had
followed. No matter how simple or
complex, short or long, minor or major, they all had one theme when considered
as a complete story. There was one question, which if asked, answered all other
relevant questions. That question was, “What does this have to do with selfless
love?” All other issues were neatly resolved or were of no consequence when
a given thread of history was fully played out from start to finish. Only that one question had eternal value.
Once it was seen from His perspective, this
was perfectly clear. Whenever someone was living based on selfish principles,
their life-thread was the dull brownish yellow color. Whenever they lived based on the principle of
selfless love, it turned white. If they
lived and died outside of God’s purpose, the thread turned permanently red and
terminated in the much larger bundle that eventually ended in nothingness.
Those were the children of the devil who lives were not given to God and
ultimately perished and whose lives were meaningless. They are food and fuel
for hell. When a person lived and died
for God’s purposes, the life-thread turned golden and became part of the bundle
that continued on throughout time and endured. It was a much smaller bundle,
but far richer than the other in the quality of the lives lived. When a thread
turned red or golden, it would change over its entire length once the person’s
life was over. This was a graphic representation of how even a person’s
mistakes (or successes) can be changed to fit God’s purposes (or made of no
consequence) depending on whether or not they give their lives to Him. It was clear throughout the exercise that God
is always perfectly in control and no detail escapes His attention or action.
Nor could one person alter another’s eternal destiny. They could influence them, but it was always
and ultimately the individual’s reactions and decisions that counted.
I should interject my understanding on one
particularly poignant issue that I expect some readers still want an answer
on. ‘Why is there suffering in the
world?’ If it seems wasteful and pointless, that is because for the lost it is.
However, suffering for a saint is an opportunity to grow and become stronger
and more mature. Sin and the consequent
suffering cannot happen in heaven and the sufferings of mortal life provide a
unique opportunity for people to be transformed into the children of God they
are intended to become. Naturally we
should not seek to create situations where we or others suffer unnecessarily,
but when it comes to us, it should be seen as an opportunity and embraced as
eagerly as pleasure. Suffering is intended to be used to exercise virtues such
as patience, endurance, perseverance and etc.
Just as sensibly, when the opportunity to escape suffering comes, let it
go if it has accomplished its purpose. But a person should not use unrighteous
means to avoid suffering – they add to their sins and lose the opportunity to
grow. There are other ways to accomplish the same goals, but suffering is
particularly effective and God uses it when we avoid the other opportunities He
gives us.
After the exercise was complete, I was gently
separated from His mind and returned to my normal state. I felt a moment of loss as the incredible
experience of oneness with God subsided. The memories of the details of
individual lives were not retained because I no longer had the capacity nor a
reason to keep them. Sensing my disappointment, Jesus assured me that I could
look forward to similar experiences again in heaven.
I was humbled and starkly aware of how
pitiful my list now seemed. It was not lost on me how gracious God had been to answer
me in the fullest, most extraordinary way.
A sense of loss tinged my thoughts as I could feel the memory of the
experience already fading as my much reduced mind struggled and failed to
retain the vast knowledge and analytical capacity it had shared with Christ. I
took some consolation in the thought that I could at least retain the one
principle I had learned, the fundamental centrality of selfless love.
True to my nature, I still had one last
question to ask.
“What will become of my children?”
Jesus showed me that by invoking Him, even
when I was dead and going to hell, I had fulfilled the most basic requirement
for going to heaven. I could go there
now, or I could return to my body and resume responsibility for my children. He
added the warning that if I returned, I would have to deal promptly and
thoroughly with my sins, and be careful not to be exposed again like I had
been. There was a real risk of still going to hell if I returned, as there was
for all the living at any moment. The teaching “Once saved always saved” that I
had encountered in churches I attended is not true. A person can lose their state of salvation at
any time by rejecting or denying God. The thought of going to heaven and being
forever secure from hell was very attractive; but I also thought of my
children. Christ had shown me with abundant clarity that in my absence their
situation was very perilous and that there were more children I was supposed to
father and raise to fulfill my purpose in life. It was not God’s plan for me to
die then.
I thought of the children and the lesson of
selfless love was fresh in my mind. So I decided to return to my body. I dreaded putting it on again with its
limitations, vulnerability to suffering and physical needs. But the fact that Jesus had already arranged
for it to be healed made it obvious which decision He wanted. No sooner had I
agreed to this than I found myself back in my body.
The pain, exhaustion and weariness returned,
but were nowhere near as intense as they had been. I felt my body like a heavy, thick weight
around me as I rolled off the couch cushions onto my knees. Shaking slightly with fatigue, I rose and
stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom where I began this account.
Once my eyes were clear and free of pain and
infection, I could see as well as I had seen before the accident. The pain in
my throat was gone and I could swallow normally again. Most of the redness was gone from the burned
skin on my face and arm. Only two small patches of burned skin remained on my
thumb and forefinger. I will probably
bear these faint scars for the rest of my life as a tangible reminder of the
experience.
EPILOGUE
I was ravenously hungry after being
resurrected and went straight to the kitchen.
It had been about midnight when I had first lain down on the floor. When I looked at the clock in the dining area
it showed only seven past midnight! The
whole experience had lasted barely five minutes or less of real time. Breakfast is my favorite meal, so I cooked a
large breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, fruit and etc. I was partway into enjoying this meal when my
spouse entered and asked, “What’s all this banging about?” (Probably she was
referring to the noise of the pots and pans I had used to cook the meal or the
clatter of dishes and cups as I ate.)
“I’m eating breakfast!” I replied.
“At this hour?” she was clearly annoyed.
“Yes, God healed me and I can eat and drink
again. I died and He brought me back to
life again! And now I am hungry and thirsty.”
“Well,” she said, “I’m trying to sleep so
stop making so much noise.” Then she went back to bed.
That was a very anti-climactic moment for me after
being resurrected, but that’s how she is. That’s also why I had to come back
for the children. I don’t expect she
will ever “get it.”
Soon after that I found
a new employer and went back to work. The demons weren’t done with me
though. A couple months later I came
down with viral meningitis caught from a coworker and nearly died again. This time though I was just extremely sick
and recovered normally.
Yet being close to
death again really caught my attention. As soon as I was current with my bills, I
began paying my debts and making restitution to everyone I could remember
having slighted. I crisscrossed the country and wrote letters seeking
forgiveness from anyone I could remember sinning against. It was awkward, painful and expensive and so
on. But I knew it had to be done. With eternity at stake, there could be no
loose ends.
Since then life has
been remarkably mundane after such an experience. At first I was very excited about the
experience and tried to tell the story whenever there was an opportunity. I
soon learned that most people cannot relate to such things, even in the church.
After a consistent series of painful rejections and a general ostracizing by other
believers, I quieted down. It became
clear what kinds of people were prepared to hear about this, and who were in the
much larger majority that are not. This saddened me, but I realized it was not
under my control.
I also discovered
that after being resurrected I had some unusual spiritual gifts. For about 18-24 months after the event, I
could lay hands on people and when I prayed, God would heal them. I could also see things in the spirit
(including future events) and sense people’s thoughts and emotions. But the
constant rejection and negativity from others wore me down and the power behind
these gifts faded as I used them less and less frequently. Now, though they
still continue, the instances when they manifest are only rare and sporadic in
nature.
One gift that
remained for quite awhile was the ability to recognize other people who also
had near death experiences. If I met them, I immediately had a tingling
sensation about my head and shoulders and this “knowledge” that we shared a
similar experience. There were
remarkably more of them than I would guess given the general quietness on the
subject. Based on my informal survey,
I’d say there’s something close to 1% of the population have had such
experiences. Most were reluctant to
share their story since they also experienced the same rejection and disbelief
that I had. But with some coaxing I was privileged to hear some very remarkable
stories that confirmed what I knew.
Recently I had the
opportunity to share this story in a church meeting. Afterwards a man came to me and thanked me
for sharing this. It had convicted him
of the need to deal with sin in his own life.
That helped me realize that there are people who need to and want to
hear this message. My eternal destiny
was changed because someone was persistent and bold enough to tell me what I
needed to hear, even if I wasn’t receptive at the time. I am grateful for that and write this to pass
on the good news in the same spirit. I
hope this helps and encourages those who read this. I am sure there are plenty
who will be skeptical and there’s little I can do about that, Although this is a pretty complete account of
my memories of the event, I will be glad to try to answer further, serious
questions from the readers.
