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Authors: Dale Black

Tags: #Afterlife, #Biography & Autobiography, #Nonfiction, #Personal Memoir, #Retail

Flight to Heaven (13 page)

BOOK: Flight to Heaven
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How could it be?
I wondered.
How could light do that? I’ve never seen light like that.
My mind refused to cooperate. What I was seeing defied logic, defied rational analysis, let alone rational explanation.
Something was beginning to reveal itself, I was sure of that. I didn’t know exactly what, but I did know that my prayers were being answered. God
was
restoring my memory. At first the memories came in fragments, then in a flood. Unlike the earlier memories, which came out of sequence, the memories I am about to share came back sequentially.
These are not memories I could summon on command. They bypassed my conscious brain. If I thought too much, they resisted revealing themselves. I had to let my brain relax and allow my heart to take over. I wasn’t used to giving up control easily, but I had no alternative. They wouldn’t come if I didn’t let go and tune in to my heart.
So I would go and lie down in the middle of our football field, in the middle of the night, gazing at the starry wonder of the Milky Way, where I would relax, let go, and . . .
Now it was coming back . . . where I had gone.
The more it came back, the more I let go, until the memories replayed themselves like one long, continuous movie.
Leaving the hospital, I sped through what appeared to be a narrow pathway. An incandescent-like beam of light, almost like a searchlight, originated from me and illuminated my path. It wasn’t a tunnel of light that I was traveling through. It was a path in the darkness that was delineated by the light. Outside of this pathway was total darkness.
But in the darkness millions of tiny spheres of light zoomed past as I traveled through what looked like deep space, almost as if a jet were flying through a snowstorm at night, its lights reflecting off the flakes as they blurred past.
The speed at which I traveled was blinding, and the path narrowed to twice the width of my body. I had no pain, no discomfort whatsoever. No high-altitude ear-popping. No queasy stomach. No headache. And I had no worries, not even the least concern. Only questions.
What happened to me? Why is
this
happening to me? Where am I going? What is going to happen next?
What happened next is beyond my ability to describe. I will use the best words I can, yet the best words pale in the presence of what I experienced.
I was still traveling at enormous speed, all the while feeling no sensation of movement. No wind in my hair. No g-forces distorting my face. No pressure against my eyes, making them close.
At this time, I became aware that I was not traveling alone. Accompanying me were two angelic escorts dressed in seamless white garments woven with silver threads. They had no discernible gender but appeared masculine and larger than I was. Their skin tone was light golden brown and their hair fairly short. I could see their emotions, clearly delighted to be ushering me through this wonderland. They moved just behind me, one to the left of me, one to the right. Remarkably, my peripheral vision was enhanced, and I could see both of their glowing faces at the same time. I could even see behind me while hardly moving my head.
I was fast approaching a magnificent city, golden and gleaming among a myriad of resplendent colors. The light I saw was the purest I had ever seen. And the music was the most majestic, enchanting, and glorious I had ever heard.
I was still approaching the city, but now I was slowing down. Like a plane making its final approach for landing. I knew instantly that this place was entirely and utterly holy. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just knew. I was overwhelmed by its beauty. It was breathtaking. And a strong sense of belonging filled my heart; I never wanted to leave. Somehow I knew I was made for this place and this place was made for me. Never had I felt so “right” anywhere. For the first time in my life, I was completely “whole.”
The entire city was bathed in light, an opaque whiteness in which the light was intense but diffused. In that dazzling light every color imaginable seemed to exist and—what’s the right word?—
played
. If joy could be given colors, they would be these colors. The colors were pure and innocent, like children playing in a fountain, splashing, chasing each other, gurgling with laughter. Water everywhere sparkled in the sunshine.
The colors seemed to be alive, dancing in the air. I had never seen so many different colors. If the brightest light on earth could shine through the most magnificent chandelier with tens of thousands of flawless crystals, it would appear as dirty glass in comparison to the amazing brightness and colors that entranced me.
It was breathtaking to watch. And I could have spent forever doing just that. The closer I got to the city, the more distinct the illumination became. The magnificent light I was experiencing emanated from about forty or fifty miles within the city wall.
I saw a great phosphorescent display of light that narrowed to a focal point that was brighter than the sun. Oddly, it didn’t make me squint to look at it. And all I wanted to do was to look at it. The light was palpable. It had substance to it, weight and thickness, like nothing I had ever seen before or since.
The light from a hydrogen bomb is the closest I can come to describing it. Just after the bomb is detonated—but before the fireball that forms the mushroom cloud—there is a millisecond of light that flashes as the bomb releases its energy. It was something like that but much larger.
The glow and energy of this light radiated in all directions, upward and outward. It wasn’t something you shielded your eyes from; it wasn’t something you even flinched at. Just the opposite. It was warm and inviting. Almost hypnotic in its ability to draw you in to it.
Somehow I knew that light and life and love were connected and interrelated. It was as if the very heart of God lay open for everyone in heaven to bask in its glory, to warm themselves in its presence, to bathe in its almost liquid properties so they could be restored, renewed, refreshed.
Remarkably, the light didn’t shine
on
things but
through
them. Through the grass. Through the trees. Through the wall. And through the people who were gathered there.
There was a huge gathering of angels and people, millions, countless millions. They were gathered in a central area that seemed over ten miles in diameter. The expanse of people was closer to an ocean than a concert hall. Waves of people, moving in the light, swaying to the music, worshiping God. Holiness hovered over them the way I imagine the Spirit of God brooding over the surface of the deep at the beginning of time. During priceless moments of worship you are so enraptured by it that you don’t miss the moment before or long for the moment after.
Somehow the music in heaven calibrated everything, and I felt that nothing was rushed. Nothing waited for you, because you weren’t late for anything. You weren’t early either, having to wait for what was to happen next. Everything happened right when it was supposed to happen, and you were right there to experience it. In sync. With everything. Never hurried or stressed.
Time was clearly evident. But it, too, was perfect. The music was in perfect timing. The songs and hymns had a beginning and an ending. Yet in heaven I was certain that time was stable, nothing dying or decaying, nothing hurried and nothing late.
Time seemed relaxed, comfortable, and natural. The limitations and consequences of earthly time did not apply here. Heavenly time and order were intertwined as part of the perfect whole.
I was outside the city, slowly moving toward its wall, suspended a few hundred feet above the ground. I’m not sure how I knew directions there, but I had a strong, almost magnetic sense, that it was northwest. Which meant I was approaching the city from the southeast.
A narrow road led to an entrance in the wall, which led into the city. I moved effortlessly along the road, escorted by my two angelic guides, on what seemed to be a divine schedule. Below me lay the purest, most perfect grass, precisely the right length and not a blade that was bent or even out of place. It was the most vibrant green I had ever seen. If a color can be said to be alive, the green I saw was alive, slightly transparent and emitting light and life from within each blade.
The iridescent grass stretched endlessly over gently rolling hills upon which were sprinkled the most colorful wild flowers, lifting their softpetaled beauty skyward, almost as if they were a chorus of flowers caught up in their own way of praising God. The fragrance that permeated heaven was so gentle and sweet, I almost didn’t notice it amid all there was to see and hear. But as I looked at the delicate, perfect flowers and grass, I wanted to smell them. Instantly, I was aware of a gentle aroma. As I focused, I could tell the difference between the grass and the flowers, the trees and even the air. It was all so pure and intoxicating and blended together in a sweet and satisfying scent.
In the distance stood a range of mountains, majestic in appearance, as if they reigned over the entire landscape. These were not mountains you wanted to conquer; these were mountains you wanted to revere.
It seemed that my vision had been extremely enhanced. How otherwise could I see the colors I was seeing or the light that was in everything? It was something like being in a 3-D movie and then putting on the 3-D glasses. Or being outside in the darkest night and putting on night goggles. Suddenly everything has more dimensions, more richness. But that is an understatement. Multiply that by ten thousand and it would be like what I was experiencing. There are no words that capture the scenes that were before me. Utterly breathtaking.
My body was elevated above the ground and moved effortlessly to whatever location my escorts determined. My energy seemed boundless, and even though I had always worked hard to be in excellent condition, I had never come close to feeling as strong and healthy as I felt now. It was as though I could accomplish anything.
The road was only wide enough for two people and followed the contours of the hills. Then it began sloping upward toward the huge wall that encircled the city. I gazed again at the light, which stunned me with its glorious brightness and drew me toward it. I wanted to take everything in, to see it all, absorb it all, and remember it all.
Next I heard the faint sound of water rushing in the distance. I couldn’t see the water, but it sounded as if it were rivers cascading over a series of small waterfalls, creating music that was ever-changing.
Music was everywhere. The worship of God was the heart and focus of the music, and everywhere the joy of the music could be felt. The deepest part of my heart resonated with it, made me want to be a part of it forever. I never wanted it to stop. It swelled within me and without me as if it were inviting me into some divine dance.
The music was a seamless blend of vocals and instrumentals, the voices enhancing the instruments, and the instruments enhancing the vocals. Neither diminished the other but rather enriched the other. There was no competition, only cooperation. Perfect harmonic order. I had the feeling—and it was the most satisfying of feelings—that I was made for the music, as if each muscle in my body were a taut string of some finely tuned instrument, created to play the most beautiful music ever composed. I felt part of the music. One with it. Full of joy and wonder and worship. Perhaps this is what love sounds like when put to music. It felt so. And every part of me felt it.
I was in complete harmony with it, and it accompanied me, beguiling me onward throughout my journey. I thought I would burst with exuberance as I found myself included in such sacred and joyous melodies. I wanted to pause and let the music resonate so I could savor the glorious experience. But it never stopped. It just kept on playing.
The music of praise seemed to be alive and it passed through me, permeating every cell. My being seemed to vibrate like a divine tuning fork. I felt all this, every ecstatic moment of it. And I never wanted it to end. The music there, like the light that was there, existed in everything, and everything felt in perfect harmony. There was not a note of discord. Not a trace of someone playing his own music. Not a bit of competition anywhere. This was perfect unity. Expressed toward one focus—God.
It was as if all of heaven knew the beat, the tempo, the words, the pitch, the tone, and all participated in their unique way but in a way that all was united into one song. There were not different songs playing together; it was all one song, sung by everyone, simultaneously.
It was beautiful beyond belief. And it was blissful beyond belief. I never felt such overwhelming peace.
15
 
CELESTIAL PERFECTION
 
While in heaven, I somehow
realized that knowledge is flawed and did not seem to be of great significance. Truth is what prevails and has supremacy in heaven. When I had questions or needed understanding it seemed to be imparted automatically and directly into my heart.
Just one of the things I somehow seemed to “understand” was that heavenly order was everywhere and in everything. I understood in my heart that God’s will was perfection and His Word was the source of all creation. As I considered all that I had seen, I understood that the Word of God was and is the foundation for everything. God was the heart of heaven, His love, His will, His order.
BOOK: Flight to Heaven
13.98Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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