with its round table and old-fashioned parlor-type ice-cream chairs. We spent much of our time on this balcony, watching the student activity on the campus, talking.
The first day I could tell that my husband had a heavy load of fear on his heart, but he tried not to show it. We began discussing the medical details involved with the valve replacement operation. Heart surgery was always risky, but the doctors had assured John that the percentages were in his favor.
While we were drinking cokes together, John thought back to age nine when he had rheumatic fever. He barely remembered it. It wasn’t until five years later that a doctor told him he might have a heart problem some day, but not to worry. When John heard his mother praying one night for his heart to be healed, John began to worry. Then a close friend was killed in a car wreck.
John’s eyes had a far-off look. “One day he was there full of life, then my happy joyous friend was gone. I saw death then as a cheater—a robber of life. He was after me, too. Here was my very real enemy. How I hated him. Then you were near death and I was almost paralyzed with fear and anger at my old enemy. When you came back from death to tell me how beautiful it was, you threw me for a real loss.”
“It’s no loss, John. It’s a gain, a plus. You don’t have to hate death any more. He can be a friend. I know. Trust me, John.”
“I accept your experience, Bets. I believe in heaven. And I would like to feel that death can be a friend. But I love it here so much. I love you and Brenda and my work and the outdoor life. I just can’t believe that the next world will be as good. Tell me again what you saw.”
Once more I told him the story of my death, remembering the details as if it had happened yesterday . . . the feelings of joy and lightness . . . the colors of grass, sky, jeweled walls . . . the glorious music . . . then the intoxication and purification of that intense yellow light. “It was a blinding light because I don’t think I was supposed to see the Person of Jesus,” I mused. “But how I felt His warmth.”
“You said you wanted to go inside the city,” John continued. “Why? What did you think you’d find there?”
“I wanted very much to go inside because it looked so beautiful and the music was, well, so heavenly.”
“But beauty and music are here, too, Bets. Plus so much more. I’ve always heard that heaven was beautiful with wonderful music. What else did you see?”
“The Person of Jesus. His Presence excited me more than anything I had ever known. I felt I could learn from Him the answers to every question I ever had. I felt that He knew me better than anyone in the world and loved me completely in spite of my faults. It was His love that really got to me. I wanted so much to go inside and be with Him and worship Him.”
John’s eyes were now shining. He was more relaxed, and I sensed he was beginning to feel some of the intense love of Jesus I had felt.
Early the next morning before John was awake, I slipped out of bed, put on a warm robe, picked up my Bible and crept out on the balcony. The pink rays of the early morning sun filtered through the trees onto the dew-covered Florida campus. As I took deep breaths of the morning freshness, I thought back to John’s and my conversation the night before. John’s determination to know every detail of my walk with the angel had both stimulated me and made me uneasy. Did he feel he was going to die? He was facing a serious operation, but the doctors were optimistic. No, I concluded, John just yearned to be healed. He wanted his vitality back again.
Yet I needed to provide every possible kind of reassurance for him. I closed my eyes and sought again the Presence. “Jesus, is there anything more you have to tell me?”
The Lord had given me total recall of every phase of my time in heaven, except one. I joyously sang a song that was rendered in many parts and in several different
The first day I could tell that my husband had a heavy load of fear on his heart, but he tried not to show it. We began discussing the medical details involved with the valve replacement operation. Heart surgery was always risky, but the doctors had assured John that the percentages were in his favor.
While we were drinking cokes together, John thought back to age nine when he had rheumatic fever. He barely remembered it. It wasn’t until five years later that a doctor told him he might have a heart problem some day, but not to worry. When John heard his mother praying one night for his heart to be healed, John began to worry. Then a close friend was killed in a car wreck.
John’s eyes had a far-off look. “One day he was there full of life, then my happy joyous friend was gone. I saw death then as a cheater—a robber of life. He was after me, too. Here was my very real enemy. How I hated him. Then you were near death and I was almost paralyzed with fear and anger at my old enemy. When you came back from death to tell me how beautiful it was, you threw me for a real loss.”
“It’s no loss, John. It’s a gain, a plus. You don’t have to hate death any more. He can be a friend. I know. Trust me, John.”
“I accept your experience, Bets. I believe in heaven. And I would like to feel that death can be a friend. But I love it here so much. I love you and Brenda and my work and the outdoor life. I just can’t believe that the next world will be as good. Tell me again what you saw.”
Once more I told him the story of my death, remembering the details as if it had happened yesterday . . . the feelings of joy and lightness . . . the colors of grass, sky, jeweled walls . . . the glorious music . . . then the intoxication and purification of that intense yellow light. “It was a blinding light because I don’t think I was supposed to see the Person of Jesus,” I mused. “But how I felt His warmth.”
“You said you wanted to go inside the city,” John continued. “Why? What did you think you’d find there?”
“I wanted very much to go inside because it looked so beautiful and the music was, well, so heavenly.”
“But beauty and music are here, too, Bets. Plus so much more. I’ve always heard that heaven was beautiful with wonderful music. What else did you see?”
“The Person of Jesus. His Presence excited me more than anything I had ever known. I felt I could learn from Him the answers to every question I ever had. I felt that He knew me better than anyone in the world and loved me completely in spite of my faults. It was His love that really got to me. I wanted so much to go inside and be with Him and worship Him.”
John’s eyes were now shining. He was more relaxed, and I sensed he was beginning to feel some of the intense love of Jesus I had felt.
Early the next morning before John was awake, I slipped out of bed, put on a warm robe, picked up my Bible and crept out on the balcony. The pink rays of the early morning sun filtered through the trees onto the dew-covered Florida campus. As I took deep breaths of the morning freshness, I thought back to John’s and my conversation the night before. John’s determination to know every detail of my walk with the angel had both stimulated me and made me uneasy. Did he feel he was going to die? He was facing a serious operation, but the doctors were optimistic. No, I concluded, John just yearned to be healed. He wanted his vitality back again.
Yet I needed to provide every possible kind of reassurance for him. I closed my eyes and sought again the Presence. “Jesus, is there anything more you have to tell me?”
The Lord had given me total recall of every phase of my time in heaven, except one. I joyously sang a song that was rendered in many parts and in several different
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