She kept crying, oblivious to his presence.
A bright light shone from behind. He turned around. There was no source. It just was. What was happening? The light was bright and clear and seemed to move. It was beautiful. He felt the urge to walk towards it but hesitated. He looked at Kathy. He wanted to hold her, to tell her he was okay. But he knew he couldn’t.
“Hello, Mark,” said Sotare.
He turned around and found that the light was gone and in its place stood Sotare in full angelic glory.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Sotare?” said Mark. “What is happening?”
“You’re dead,” responded Sotare solemnly. “It is time for you to come with me.”
Sotare turned away and started walking. But Mark didn’t move. It was all too much, too sudden. He didn’t want to go, but he somehow knew he was supposed to do just that. He looked back at Kathy.
“We need to go,” said Sotare.
He began to follow and noticed that as he did, a newfound peace began to envelop him. It was just like the stories he had heard from people who had died and come back. It felt good, peaceful, and serene. He stopped and looked back at Kathy again. The great love he felt for her warmed his heart.
“I love you, Kathy,” he said. Then he turned to follow Sotare.
Instantly, Mark was in a huge, open field. The air was crisp and clean and smelled fresh. Beneath him the blades of grass were a bright green in the reflected light. Mark looked up into the sky, but there was no sun, only a beautiful brilliant blue. He looked everywhere and could see trees miles away on distant rolling hills. To his surprise, he could see the individual leaves on the trees. His vision was incredibly acute. It was wonderful.
“Where are we?” he asked. No answer came. Sotare was gone.
Mark took a few steps towards where Sotare had been and was surprised to find that he could hear the rustling of the blades of grass beneath his bare feet. Bare feet? As he looked down he saw that he was once again wearing filthy rags.
Confused, he examined them. They were awful. Everything around him was clean and fresh, except him. The contrast was striking.
He looked around for Sotare but he was nowhere to be found.
Then he noticed music. It was a beautiful combination of voices, a vast number of voices. Where did it come from? When did it begin? It was wonderful, the most magnificent melody and sound, seeming to set his heart at perfect peace, creating a yearning that it somehow also satisfied. The more he listened to it, the more his soul resonated in its perfection. It was breathtaking.
“This is heaven,” he said as he savored the moment. “This is heaven.”
He smiled. “It’s all real…and I made it.”
He looked into the bright sky and breathed in the air. It was a glorious experience. How could he have been so foolish as to not believe in this? But here he was. He laughed again and thought of Kathy. He missed her, but he was more drawn by the beauty of this place than by his desire to be with her. He still felt deep love for her, but it paled in comparison to the sheer joy he was now experiencing. There was no remorse, no sadness. It was amazing and natural, as though part of him knew about this place and was recognizing it. He slowly turned around with a beaming smile, breathing deeply. It was magnificent.
Something caught his attention: it was a presence, a distant presence. He focused. It was in the far distance. Something was there. No, not something. It was someone. Someone was approaching. At first he thought it was Sotare, but he somehow knew it was not. This person was walking straight towards him. Who was it?
Then an odd sensation brushed across his soul. It was simple at first but it quickly strengthened. What was it? He examined the feeling flowing upon him and in him. It was different. It was piercing. No, wait. It was enlightening.
What is that? He thought to himself. Is it connected with this person?
Then in a flash, he recognized it: purity. That’s weird, he thought. He was sensing a character trait originating from whoever it was walking towards him. He did not know how he knew, but he knew that was what was happening. He was experiencing absolute purity.
Mark watched and smiled softly.
The closer the person came, the more intense the feeling of purity flowing from him grew. Him? thought Mark. How do I know it is a man? Then, Mark sensed something more. He focused and within seconds recognized it as well. It was goodness. He smiled and laughed. “Wonderful,” he said. Then another sensation: faithfulness. Mark was in awe at this newly discovered ability to sense character traits.
The figure quickly grew closer.
Then another sensation touched him. But this sensation was very different from the others. He focused on the new one, experiencing it, analyzing it. He waited. It seemed both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It was…it was…he stopped smiling and stared straight ahead. He let out a hard breath and took a step backwards. Nothing seemed to matter for a few moments. He had to know what it was. It was important, different, and necessary that he…that…he…. “Oh, no,” he said aloud.
Mark averted his eyes. He had to. It was necessary somehow. He couldn’t look directly at the man who was approaching.
What is this? he wondered. What am I feeling? What is wrong with me?
He tried to look directly at him, but he could not bring himself to do so. This puzzled him, yet at the same time he began to understand why. He could not look directly at this person because he felt the omnipotent and infinite wonder of intense holiness.
Mark had no choice but to look away. He could not bring himself to gaze directly at this Holy One. All he could do was look down. He had to look down. Somehow, it was the right thing for him to do and he knew it at the deepest level of his being.
In the midst of this barrage of new sensations, another realization forced itself into his mind as he sensed the holiness growing in intensity. He knew that he was unworthy. He knew that he was a sinner and that he was in the presence of complete, holy perfection. Mark felt bad, not because of any malevolent quality in the one approaching, but because of what he felt inside. He felt completely ashamed.
Suddenly the person was no longer at a distance. Instead, he was standing a few feet away and an unexpected intensity of glory and holiness blasted upon Mark, causing him to step backwards and drop to his knees.
He buried his face in the grass, feeling incredibly and completely unworthy to be favored with even a glimpse of this person’s magnificent presence. Holiness, perfection, goodness, faithfulness—all of it permeated his soul and moved through his being as easily as light moves through empty space. It exposed every dark corner and unholy crevice of his soul.
He began to cry. He couldn’t help himself. He was unworthy, completely unworthy. He was a sinner in the presence of God and all he could do was weep and keep his head down in the grass, proclaiming his utter and complete filthiness in the depths of his soul before this magnificent being. The tears fell from his face.
Then Mark heard words spoken into his mind. “Look at me.” But the words were not alone. With them was total authority and Mark knew he would obey. Slowly, he raised his eyes past the blades of grass and gazed upon the feet of the one standing before him. In the feet were holes.
Mark opened his eyes wide at the realization of who it was. Mark again buried his face in the grass and squeezed his eyes shut. He could not bring himself to look above the blades of grass clenched in his hands. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to be somewhere else. He felt so inexpressibly exposed and vulnerable.
Then he heard three more words form in his mind. “Come with me.”
The sound of feet moving in the grass passed him. Mark did not want to raise his eyes, but he did only enough to see which direction he was supposed to go.
Crawling would not allow him to keep pace, so he reluctantly raised himself to his feet, keeping his head as low to the ground as possible, still choking out tears, still feeling profoundly unworthy.
Wa
ves of pure glory and majesty were emanating from Jesus, passing through Mark’s body and soul and exposing every part of what he was. He felt alternating and simultaneous joy and disgust, ecstasy and agony. Each revelation of the purity and greatness of Jesus brought with it a corresponding realization of his own impurity.
Although their pace seemed slow, the distance they covered was great. It didn’t make sense, but it was true. All he could do was follow as they quickly moved the great distance until finally Jesus stopped.
Mark likewise halted and dropped to his knees. He felt the eyes of Christ gaze upon him, almost burning through him. Mark kept silent, motionless, looking to the ground, waiting, not daring even to think. Then Jesus walked further and Mark once again followed, still keeping his head bowed low.
After a short time, Mark noticed that the ground began to slope slightly, as if they were walking down a hill. Then it became a little steeper and then a little more. The grass began to fade the farther down the descending path they took.
Again, they seemed to be walking leisurely, yet also covering a great distance. Then Mark noticed something else. As they went further down, the feeling of peace and joy grew weaker.
Why was that? Mark dared to wonder. Down, down, down they went. The beautiful music! He noticed that it was growing fainter until, finally, after moving what seemed like a great distance, it disappeared altogether.
As they continued their downward trek, Mark knew something was wrong. And with the growing awareness came a menacing sense of dread. The sensations of wonder and peace had vanished and in their place was an escalating fear. The farther down he went, the worse it became.
No, he thought to himself. Please, no.
He did not want to let his mind entertain what might be happening. Then he felt a brush of warmth, followed by dry air. He clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Then he caught a whiff of a foul smell, then another. It was weak at first, but it quickly increased into a nauseating stench, the stench of burning flesh.
“No!” he said aloud. “No, no, NO, please, no,” he choked out the words. He wanted to stop moving but he couldn’t. He continued to walk farther and farther downward. “No,” he said again in a whimpering, mournful cry. “Please, I don’t want to go. Please, don’t take me there.” But his words went unheeded. Terror pounded against his soul like a sledgehammer. He was going to hell—Jesus was taking him to hell.
He knew his pleas would make no difference, but he still cried out, imploring the Lord for mercy. “Please, no. I don’t want to go hell. Please, I beg you, please.” He was almost screaming the words. But they were useless. Both of them continued their downward path and with every step, anguish filled Mark’s being with greater and greater intensity.
He cried hard. He cried in mournful agony, almost screaming. Why couldn’t he stop following? He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He knew he had to follow. He knew he had to obey.
Mark thought of stealing a glimpse of what was around him but was too terrified. He did not want to see. He did not want to look at the judgment. He forced his eyes shut. His heart was beating like a jackhammer and his throat and lungs hurt from the burning air. Intense, overwhelming terror clawed at his whole being.
“No!” he sobbed, begging, “No. Oh, please, no.”
He stumbled over a rock and automatically opened his eyes to regain his balance. He stopped. In front of him appeared to be a shoreline of some sort. They had stopped walking.
All of Mark’s five senses were stinging with fear. Dropping to his knees, he gazed out upon a mass of dark liquid. He jerked his eyes away towards the feet of Jesus, but even then he could not bring himself to look at them. Mark fell upon his hands, moaning in remorse. Waves of complete terror flushed through him and he pressed his face into a mound of rotting debris on the ground before him, trembling hard.
Through the fear, through the knowledge that condemnation was about to fall upon him, Mark also knew that it was right. This realization was one last revelation of truth that beat against him before judgment was executed. There was no explanation. There was no bargaining. He knew in that instant that he was completely and utterly unworthy to be delivered out of this verdict. He had no chance. He was absolutely aware of his own sin in the presence of the ineffable holiness of Christ and he agreed with the judgment of his condemnation. He knew it was right, even though he was terrified by it.
He forced himself to raise his eyes to see what lay before them. Through the watery blur of tears he saw a thick dark liquid filled with people in various stages of decay, writhing in agony, screaming and flailing about helplessly as they were being tormented by pockets of flame and the scalding fluid. They screamed hideously, moaning, thrashing about. He could feel their eyes on him, grasping towards him, watching him as they were trapped in an eternity of endless torment.
Mark plunged his head back into the muck, and screamed out again, “No! Please, no!” He sobbed heavily and dug his fingers into the soggy ground. “Please, no,” he said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He moaned in absolute and complete terrified horror. His whole body shuddered violently. “Please, no.” It was the only thing his feeble and wretched condition would permit him to say. He cried with whimpering sobs over and over again, wailing in agony. “Please… no.” Tears gushed forth as he buried his face in the ground and cried violently into the filth.
He laid there in the muck and grime, waiting for the terrifying reality of judgment to fall upon him. His whole body tensed and strained under the weight of the terror that was before him. He knew it was time to be judged.
But, then he noticed something. It was like a ray of light that had unexpectedly shined into a dark room.
Through his tears and fear he sensed a feeling coming from Jesus. It was odd. He stopped crying for a moment and listened to it, felt it, and recognized it. Keeping his head low, he opened his eyes and smelled the stench afresh. There it was, a sensation he knew well: sadness. Jesus did not enjoy the spectacle before them. It pained him.
Mark knew that Jesus cared for those who were suffering. But he also knew that their judgment was right. They had rejected Jesus and sought their own ways. Now they were living with what they had ultimately wanted, an existence without him.
Mark realized that his own refusal to seek God, his own earthbound apathy about holiness and righteousness, and his pursuit of his own desires, had blinded him from the truth. He too had chosen to live without the true God.
Then Jesus turned around. The movement snapped Mark back into place and instantly, all the terror exploded on him afresh. “No, please, no,” he cried out in heaving sobs. “Please, no.”
Then three more words entered his mind, “Come with me.”
Jesus turned around and began to walk. Mark was still terrified and sobbing, but…anything, anything at all to get away from this place. The momentum of fear and sobs pushed his strained soul towards oblivion, but he was somehow able to move in panicked obedience. He clambered frantically towards Jesus. He sobbed heavily. The Lord was not facing him. Instead, he was walking away and Mark was falling behind. He forced himself to stop crying and crawl away from the horrendous sludge of decay. Relief threw itself upon him, but he coughed out one more sob before regaining his footing and following. But now more than ever he kept his head low as he hurried to catch up.
They moved quickly. They were ascending! Could it be?
They kept moving upwards and with welcome relief, the heat and stench grew weaker. The terror was still strong, but it was being slowly replaced with the increasing hope that he might not be cast into hell, a hope he dared not embrace too strongly lest it be shattered.
Then he noticed that the air began to cool, slowly at first but then more and more. And then the music, the beautiful music returned and began to grow louder. Relief and utter liberation swept over him. Was it a reprieve? What would happen? Would Jesus take him down below again and finally cast him into the darkness? The thought terrified him. Mark kept hi
s gaze downward in complete and total subjection, afraid even to hope that somehow he might escape that terrible judgment.
At long last, they reached the place where the grass was full and green. There was no stench, no heat—just splendor. But the terrible memory of hell had burned itself deeply upon his soul.
Jesus stopped. Mark dropped to his knees, drinking in the rich aroma of the fragrant grass and so incredibly relieved to not be in the awful place behind him. But, would he be thrown into it after all? He did not know. He allowed himself to dare think that he might be safe while he waited in total subjection to God.
Jesus turned and faced him.
Mark felt a new sensation. It stunned him. Fear left. Dread vanished. He was overshadowed, captured by something new. It was intense, totally overwhelming and absolutely pure. Mark felt, in the depth of his heart, the most wondrous and complete love he had ever experienced. It washed through him, on him, around him. He could barely move under its awesome weight. It was magnificent. It was intense, holy, and pure. He was in awe. Waves of love continued to move over him, through him, into him. He felt helpless before it, uplifted, and in complete wonder. There was no judgment, no condemnation, only a powerfully deep, loving concern from Jesus for Mark. He could feel the powerful, loving warmth and kindness as if the sun itself were inside him.
He was perplexed but in ecstasy as he experienced the awe-inspiring marvel of the love of God himself. He was completely undone, unable to move, unable to resist it.
He opened his heart. He let it fill him through and through, let it move on him and carry him away in its power.
Then, as if a sudden burst of blinding warmth had penetrated Mark, he experienced a profound urge to weep. But this was not from fear. It was not from dread. Mark knew he should be damned. He knew he should be sent to hell, but he wasn’t going to be. Instead, he was loved, loved with a perfect, complete, and undeserved love.
Mark closed his eyes and began to cry. Immediately, he heard Jesus say, “I love you.”
Everything went black.
The Influence (Supernatural Thriller) Page 31