Four Nights With The Devil

by Peter Hockley

  My hand kept going, circling round and round without my instruction. My tears were falling like a shower of rain and before the pen ever stopped moving I was literally wailing at what I saw:

  Yes, that’s correct. I do care immensely, for you are My child and I love you

  My fingers released the biro and I sank down upon the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. After so many years of wondering and searching, questioning and hoping, I had found spiritual reality. More than words spoken to the sky or prayers whispered silently on one’s knees in the dark, I had reached out my hand beyond the realm of natural senses and touched the supernatural. I had called to Him and, finally, mercifully, “God” had answered.

  Mild apprehension remained, but was rapidly eaten up by a warm mixture of surprise and accomplishment. My search, at long last, was over. With elated laughter I wiped tears that continued streaming forth and then retrieved the pen and wrote:

  I can’t believe it! It’s really you, God – it’s amazing! I’ve been looking for you for so long. How come I’ve never heard from you before?

  The tip of the pen hung just above the paper. I barely waited a second before the strange sensation lifted me again and carried me, it seemed, higher than the clouds. With a mix of tears and laughter, I watched the biro glue itself to the notepad and whirl across the page, moving of its own accord.

  What appeared was:

  You’ve never listened to Me before

  I wanted to shout with joy as the truth of what was happening sunk in. I was having a conversation with “God”. The excitement of it all crackled in me like sparks of electricity. Afraid to lose the flow of this dialogue (and perhaps lose contact with “God” forever), I continued immediately with:

  I’ve got so many questions to ask you. I don’t know where to start...

  Something came to mind; an image from a dream long ago flashed before my eyes and I couldn’t help it—I just had to ask.

  You’re not going to kill me with lightning like in that dream, are you?

  To my astonishment, a response came straight back.

  Of course not. I’m not going to kill you. I love you

  A smile spread wide across my whole face as the words appeared. I believed them, too.

  You’re never going to punish me, are you? You’re never going to send me to hell?

  No. There is no hell

  So I can do absolutely anything and you won’t get angry with me?

  You are free to do whatever you like. You are here to Re-Member Who You Are.

  You can choose anything you want in order to become Who You Really Are. God has no rules for you to follow

  I was buzzing with joy. “God” had told me I could do whatever I pleased and there would be no repercussions. “He” also used the identical phrase from the book: Who You Really Are. My companion was the same person who had made contact with the American author. It was really “Him”.

  It was almost too much for me. It seemed as if I would literally burst out of my skin, as if the jubilation of my soul could not be contained any longer in the body of my flesh. I remembered Islam: how I had been so drawn to it and how the pious-looking Islamic lifestyle, as I had studied it, appealed to me so much—certainly a lot more than Debbie’s Christianity ever did.

  So, I could still be a Muslim and that would be alright?

  Yes. You can surely be whatever you want to be. There is no right or wrong, only what you choose to become Who You Are

  But what about atheists? They don’t even believe in you. What happens to them?

  Nothing happens to them. The purpose of life is not to “believe” in Me, but to Re-Member Who You Really Are

  I don’t understand?

  You are not here to believe in Me or worship Me

  I’m not?

  No. I have no need of your worship or your “belief” in Me – you are Me. We are One and the Same – We are All That Is

  But I thought you created everything?

  And so I did. But if God is eternal then in the beginning, before creation, God was all that existed, or, “All That Is”

  OK, I understand that point.

  Then even that which God created must also be God – for where has this creation come from, but out from God Himself? So even that which is not God, is God – for All That Is, is God

  I was ecstatic as my mind grasped the concept. A short time earlier I had despaired at the thought that life was full of seemingly unknowable mysteries and now answers flooded simultaneously onto the paper and into my mind. What was more, these answers satisfied; they all made sense. A jumbled array of jig-saw puzzle pieces were suddenly starting to fit together and, for the first time in my life, the big picture was becoming clearer.

  I scribbled at once:

  I get this, God. I really understand it!

  Smiling with delight, my hand hovered over the notepad, now filling up with a supernatural, written dialogue. Almost immediately, the biro tip struck the paper, as if magnetised, and sailed across the page.

  Good. I’m glad that you do

  I laughed out loud. I loved every word “God” had for me. Yes, it was really true – “God” was talking to me. And “He” told me precisely what I wanted to hear.

  I’ve never thought about God or spirituality like this before. Not from this sort of angle. This isn’t like religious stuff I learned at school – it actually makes sense! We’re all part of the same whole: the “All That Is”

  You’ve got it. The purpose of life is not to “worship” Me or follow Me, or even to believe in Me. It is to Re-Member Who You Are: Part of the All That Is. With each choice you make and everything you do, you are discovering yourSELF. The knowledge of All That Is becomes the experience of All That Is

  Our conversation lasted nearly two hours. “God’s” responses were amazing, educating and encouraging in equal measure. But as time wore on, the battle to keep my tired eyes open grew harder. I struggled to fight off sleep and keep going. This was the most monumental experience of my entire life, but my effort to stay awake eventually proved futile. The display on the digital clock was approaching 5am and I had to be up in three hours to get ready for work. In writing, I mentioned my tiredness to “God”.

  Then you should sleep

  I didn’t want to. An agonising thought pressed my tired brain: But if I put away the pad and pen, what if “God” leaves me? I was afraid that after this night I might never hear from “Him” again. Perhaps this was the only moment of my life I’d share with “God”.

  Please don’t leave, God. I don’t want you to go.

  I will never leave you. I am with you always, wherever you go

  What a relief. One last thought from me, I wrote down:

  I’m so glad that we found each other tonight. I’ve been looking for such a long time.

  I genuinely meant this sentiment and hoped that “God” felt the same way. A final time my arm was drawn to the notepad in the ghostlike fashion – a sensation that became more and more enjoyable each time.

  I’m happy that we’ve found each other too. Now we will be together forever

  Together forever. I tried contemplating what it would mean to have “God” in my life forever, but my mind was just too exhausted to dream about the future. Instead, I revelled in the present; in the excitement of having met “God” at all. I was thrilled at “His” positive response. I put away the pad and pen, switched off the light and lay down to sleep. It didn’t take long to drift off.

  This was the Friday night I reached into the unseen spirit realm and, instead of finding fairy-tales and myths and coming up empty handed, I found a real supernatural intelligence waiting for me – eager to speak back. I had gladly opened up my bedroom and even my body and welcomed this spiritual presence in. I called it God and “God” didn’t deny that name. I believed every single word “He” told me. Not once did I consider the possibility that it wasn’t God at all in my room. It never occurred to me that my visitor could be anyone other than Him
.

  As I slipped away into deep rest, my companion stayed with me as promised. Only it was the Destroyer rather than the Creator, not God but the devil, who cradled me in his arms and rocked me to sleep.

  Chapter Ten : Revelations

  I awoke tired after only three hours sleep, but excitement over what had transpired in my bedroom energised me enough for the day. I decided it was best not to say anything to anyone, not yet at least, although when the opportunity arose at work I made a point of bringing God into a conversation with Debbie and her sister, Sharon. Replete with smugness, I spat sarcasm at their every mention of Jesus and the Christian Gospel.

  I asked Sharon to tell me about the Christian understanding of right and wrong. What was God’s opinion about evil? Did He punish men for their wrongdoing? Was there a hell? I didn’t care to hear any of her answers – I had already discovered the truth the night before. Sharon tried to explain but I shouted over her, mocking her, completely unaware of how nasty I had become. Never one to be silenced, Sharon came back at me with wide eyes and a strong tone. As she spoke, my eyes cut her with disdain. Stupid girl, I thought. Regardless of our friendship, I held the Christian in absolute contempt. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She prays to the sky! I’ve found the real God and He’s told me there is no hell!

  In my eyes, Sharon, Debbie and all the rest of the Bible-bashers were beneath me. I felt utterly superior to them all. Sharon continued talking and I lowered the volume of her voice in my ears. Her lips were moving but I heard nothing. I imagined stuffing that mouth of hers with my notebook and its otherworldly contents. A smile spread across my lips as the picture took shape in my head.

  As soon as I got home, I went straight to my bedroom and reread most of my new book again from the beginning. I was amazed afresh by everything contained in its pages. At the same time, I also referred back to the notepad of my own written communication with “God”, practically dizzy with wonder that such a glorious experience had happened to me.

  My Christian friends were so foolish, I thought to myself. If only they knew the reality and the power I held in my hands: The reality of an encounter with “God” and the power of complete freedom to do as I wanted.

  Night had drawn in by the time I picked up the biro pen again. A trace of fear crept back and held me still for a moment. I was sure that “God” wouldn’t hurt me. “He” promised me that. So why on earth did I feel so nervous? I put the pen down and wrapped myself in the security blanket of “God’s” words, both to the American author of the book and to me. This is ridiculous, my brain told me. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

  With a deep breath I grabbed the biro, opened the notepad to a fresh page and scribbled. As I did, my eyes scanned the room, cautiously.

  Are you there, God?

  Shadows fell over the world. Awareness of everything else fled away and the universe was reduced to a notepad and pen. Then, as if pulled by an unseen string, my arm stretched out to the paper.

  Yes

  The conversation had begun.

  WOW! That was quick.

  I am always here

  Instantly feeling more at ease, I wrote whatever questions came to mind. They mostly related to the themes outlined in the book. I asked “God” to develop the ideas further and explain them in more depth for my comprehension. For so long I had wished to discover my purpose, to understand the road that was laid out before me and the knowledge of how best to navigate it. For every question I posed, the answer from “God” came straight back.

  The mechanics of our conversation also became smoother and simpler as the night progressed. I wrote my own message and waited for a moment, either holding the pen just above the paper, or letting the tip rest on the page surface. In a matter of seconds, all else would grow distant and the rest of the world was simply brushed aside. Inside was a calm and quiet stillness, as though someone gathered all of my thoughts together into a corner and told them to be silent. I felt no fear; only the peace of complete surrender. My hand became someone else’s and flowed across the notebook, not slowly anymore, but faster, freer, as the response to my question poured out. As quickly as it had begun, it was over and I became myself again.

  I wanted to know more about “God’s” explanation of death and the afterlife as it was presented to the American in the book.

  Reincarnation.

  For all the thoughts I had ever entertained about God and the many months of religious curiosity and seeking, I had never seriously considered that one. The idea that upon death I would return to earth in a brand new body, with a whole new life, had never even crossed my mind. It disturbed me somewhat to imagine that one day Peter would die and be replaced by somebody else. To be honest, I didn’t like the idea at all.

  I asked “God”:

  Should I be afraid of death?

  “His” answer was immediate:

  There is no reason to be afraid

  So, when I die, will I just come back to earth?

  Only if you choose to

  But what if I don’t – do I go to Heaven and live with you?

  There is no place called Heaven where I live; for I am everywhere and everything. God is all and all is God. So there is only ever Us

  Us?

  Yes – Us. For you are Me and We are One – the All That Is

  OK, I remember that from last night. Wow, that’s deep! So if I choose to come back to earth – am I a brand new person? What happens to Peter?

  Do not think of it as an old person being replaced by a new one. There are no separate persons; there is only ever the discovery of Who You Really Are. With each choice and every experience you are Re-Membering Who You Are. Your present “life” as Peter Hockley is only one small stage in your journey of Re-Membering. In fact, your “life” as Peter is itself one of the choices you made

  I was totally bowled over by this last sentence.

  Wait – I chose to be me?

  You chose to be born into the world, in the time and place that you were, as the man who is now called Peter Hockley. And when this “lifetime” is ended you will not die – for there is no death, only the continuation of your journey to Re-Member Who You Really Are. If you wish to return, then you will do so in whatever “life” you next choose. But it is neither that Peter Hockley has ended, or been replaced by someone else. Rather it is the continuation of the same journey

  Though “God” assured me I wouldn’t cease to exist, only continue in a new form, I still felt put off by the thought of the unique identity of Peter Hockley being lost under a never-ending pile of reincarnated identities still to come.

  The subject of death inevitably led me to think of two close relatives who had passed away when I was younger. First was Uncle Bill – my mum’s brother – who had been like a dad to me in the absence of my biological father. Having no children of his own, Uncle Bill treated me as his son, always showering me with treats and brimming with loving affection. Our relationship was wonderfully close. Early one morning, at the age of nine, I watched this beloved man die from a massive heart attack right in front of my eyes. The image of him crumpling in a heap on the sofa burned into my brain. In mere minutes, Uncle Bill was gone forever.

  My grandmother lived with us, too. She was elderly and confined to a wheelchair and my mum had given up work to become her full time caregiver. Gran was also in the room when Uncle Bill died. He was her favourite son and the grief was too much for her. She lost all the will to live that day, declaring that she was determined never to see the first anniversary of her Bill’s death. The lady got her wish. Eleven months after Uncle Bill passed, Gran slipped away in her sleep in the hospital. I loved that dear, sweet woman so much; she was a treasure.

  Now, reading “God’s” explanation of death and reincarnation, memories of them both trickled back. I enjoyed their smiling faces in my mind for a while and then took up the pen and pad again. The clock showed it was past midnight. I had already been talking with “God” for several hours
.

  I was thinking about my Gran and my Uncle. You probably know it took a long time to get over their deaths. Where are they now, God? Are they in some place with you? Are they just dead? Are they alive? Please...?

  For the first time since our correspondence began, “God” was silent. I wrote something else and still nothing came back. Has God left me? I wondered, anxiously.

  I was dismayed.

  If ever there was a time I needed God to answer me it was now, while discussing this particular subject. I tried a final time: