Flight to Heaven

by Dale Black

  I saw myself inside the ambulance. Then suddenly, I was outside the ambulance, chasing it. Chasing it for what seemed forever. I remember the stark terror I felt on that ride. It was too much for me. It was just too much.

  The fourth night I couldn’t sleep for fear of what I would remember. I called my parents, telling them I needed to talk. I was so overwhelmed by the horror of the memories that I didn’t know what to do. We arranged to meet at a restaurant near the college, but during the time it took for them to make the drive, I had second thoughts. The memories were too raw, I was too fragile to recount them, and I wasn’t sure they could help anyway. By the time they arrived, I decided not to share any of it.

  On the fifth night the memories returned. This time they were stronger. This time I was leaving my body and floating just below the ceiling in the emergency room. I hadn’t remembered it at the time it happened. I remembered it now. And in vivid detail.

  Now it was clear these were not dreams, because they were now coming to me while I was wide awake.

  During the following week I remembered something so amazing it took my breath away. Images of heaven started coming back. Images and sounds. Sounds and feelings. In the order that they happened. And in intricate detail.

  Before the crash I had thought of myself as a realist and a pragmatist, much like my father. I loved science and statistics and things you could touch, hold, quantify, and contain. So my initial reaction to my journey to heaven was one of questioning. But in my heart there was no doubt about it. Whether I liked it or not, the memories were real, and they continued to pour back.

  Finally everything started making sense. So many questions were answered. Although my mind had been unable to remember the experiences of leaving my body and visiting the entrance of heaven, my heart had remembered everything, storing it deep within me for the right time to reveal it.

  Now was the time.

  Gradually the rapid recall slowed. Within a few weeks it was down to a trickle. The picture became clear as each piece of the puzzle was turned over and put into place.

  My experiences in heaven, as I have come to understand them, were embedded in me, almost like a memory chip. I say that because they have become so much more than memories. They have become permanent, life-changing events that have reprogrammed my values, my beliefs, the very way I live my life.

  Just as it was time for the memories to come back to me, now is the time for them to be shared with you.

  14

  JOURNEY TO HEAVEN

  I kept waking up. And I kept coming back to midfield. If ever there was a field of dreams, that football field in the middle of the night was it. It was the place where my most wonderful and horrible memories collided at the 50-yard line.

  My last memories were when I had been in the hospital, seeing myself in the operating room from a vantage point near the ceiling. I remember feeling lighter and lighter, being drawn down the hallway and swept out the door of the hospital, and then suddenly I was gone.

  The first memory of where I had gone when I was in a coma made no sense to me. It was a looping memory that replayed itself over and over again. The memory was of this stunningly beautiful light that permeated everything, going out in every direction but not expanding.

  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.

  Somehow I recognized that Jesus, the Word, was the structure that held it all together. Like the rib cage around the heart. He was the creative power that brought everything that I saw into place and stabilized it.

  The multitudes of angels and people were responding to the will of God and acting in perfect order to accomplish His will. Even light—the way it traveled and reflected—was highly complex, yet mathematical and precise. The melodies and rhythms of the music were all in perfect order. Nothing out of sync. No part of heaven was independent of the whole. There was complete unity.

  Between the central part of the city and the city walls were groupings of brightly colored picture-perfect homes in small, quaint towns. I’ll call them townships, because I can’t think of a better word for them. I focused on only three townships, but certainly there were more. A lot more, no doubt. The dwellings in these townships were not arranged in a uniform or symmetrical manner but appeared perfectly balanced somehow. Each home was customized and unique from the others yet blended harmoniously. Some were three or four stories, some were even higher. There were no two the same. If music could become homes, it would look like these, beautifully built and perfectly balanced.

  The flowers in heaven fascinated me. Again, a delightful and delicate balance between diversity and unity. Each was unique. All were one. And they were beautiful to behold. Each petal and leaf illuminated with that glorious light and added just the right splashes of color to the velvety expanse of green grass.

  As I described previously, the grass, the sky, the walls, the houses, everything was more beautiful than I ever dreamed anything could be. Even the colors. They were richer, deeper, more luminescent than any colors I have ever seen in the farthest reaches of earth or in the most fantastic of dreams. They were so vibrant they pulsated with life. Each and every color, no matter how varied, took its color from the glistening whiteness that permeated heaven.