Heaven and Hell (26 page)

“It’s just amazing,” Chris said as he and his mother left the shop. “Those figurines were so detailed, and they were all created by someone just thinking about them?”

“It isn’t as simple as all that,” cautioned Jennifer. “Those artisans study for years to develop their talents. They tap a hidden reservoir of power to accomplish what they do. It is the same reservoir of power that allows us to move instantly from one place to another, or allows a crippled child to be miraculously healed on Earth. The source of that power is God Himself, and He allows us to tap into it. Jesus talked about it to His followers. He told them that He had to leave them in order for the power to be brought to Earth for their use. They were waiting for it in the upper room on the Day of Pentecost. There appeared to them as tongues of fire, alighting on every one of them, remember?”

“Sure,” Chris said. “Then it’s here too?”

“Of course,” replied Jennifer. “It was here long before it came to Earth. It was always in the presence of the Father, but throughout most of human history, it was only given out to a few select individuals, and even then, very sparingly. But in Heaven, it has always flowed abundantly.”

“I see,” Chris said. “How did you learn all of these things, anyway?”

That question made Jennifer laugh. “I didn’t figure it out all on my own, if that’s what you think. God told me all about it. That’s the main reason we came here, to speak to God personally. You need to start developing a personal relationship with the Father. The best way to do that is to talk with Him face to face. He is easier to talk to than you’d ever imagine. You’ll see. It is marvelous. But we’ll get to that, I wanted you to see a few things along the way first.”

Chris shook his head in wonderment. There was so much here to take in. Now he knew why his mother had waited a few days before bringing him to Zion. It wasn’t just selfishness, as she had claimed. She wanted him to stay near to his new home for a while, adjust a bit, before introducing him to this city of wonders.

As they continued walking, Chris noted that the city was also replete with rows of trees, parks, and a multitude of elaborate fountains and pools. There was even a river with crystal clear water flowing through it. Along the river’s banks were mighty trees bearing many different fruits. Some of the trees bore fruit of tropical varieties, while others trees were those found in more temperate zones. Apples, pears, oranges, grapefruit, figs, and other varieties he didn’t recognize lined the great river, all bearing large, ripe fruit.

A great park of green grass extended for several hundred yards on either side of the river, adding to the beauty and tranquility of the scene. Multitudes gathered along the river’s banks. Some came to dine on the fruit and drink of the waters, while others came to congregate and fellowship. Some, in their joy, sang of the glory of God, and others joined in. Their heavenly melody rose from the park. God had gone to great lengths to make his children comfortable and content, and they seemed determined to give voice to their happiness, to their love and appreciation.

Chris and his mother walked across one of the many wide bridges of gold that spanned the flowing waters. Below, Chris saw what looked like gems of many colors, sizes, and shapes embedded in the golden sands. They caught the light of the eternal day, shimmering and glistening like so many stars on a clear night.

“You know, in a way, I almost expected Heaven to be some sort of spirit realm,” admitted Chris. “I think I prefer this better.”

“I agree,” said Jennifer. “I think God created Heaven as a place we could relate to. Not a nebulous spiritual realm, but a real, solid block and mortar, gold and silver, flesh and blood place. In lots of ways, it’s like Earth, at least the better parts of it. But one day, when we become a little more mature, there is going to be a new Heaven and a new Earth. What they are going to be like, I don’t know. Maybe they’ll be more spiritual.”

The two walked for hours, taking in the incredible beauty of Zion, yet they never grew weary. Jennifer directed her son’s attention to a great building that stood nearly 200 feet high, and perhaps a half mile in length. It had great ornate columns of marble on all sides, and beyond were large windows outlined in gold. Some of the windows were clear, while others were various shades of green, blue, and yellow. Chris looked through the window and saw many hallways made of glistening translucent crystal. It was the largest single structure he had seen in Zion.

Its architecture was unique, a fantastic cross between Greek and ultramodern. Even considering man’s many advances in construction, Chris wondered if such a structure was practical, or even possible, to build given early 21st century technology.

“The Hall of Records,” Jennifer announced. “Within those walls, can be found the record of the deeds of every person who ever drew breath upon Earth. There is a book for everyone.”

“Everyone?” asked Chris; amazed that such a thing was possible.

“Everyone, dear. Whether they lived for a hundred and twenty years, or barely were afforded the opportunity to draw breath, the record of their existence is here.”

“Can anyone view the records?” asked Chris. “I mean, aren’t there any privacy rules here?”

Jennifer giggled slightly, putting her arm around her son. He still had a lot to learn about heavenly matters. “Of course not, why should there be? This isn’t Earth, full of dirty little secrets and scandals that can ruin a reputation. We are all family, and we have already been judged by God. If God has judged us pure, if the blood of Jesus has cleansed us, what does it matter if others here know all about us? We are, literally, an open book, no secrets.”

The two walked up the 12 marble stairs and passed between the great columns toward one of the many open doorways in the Hall of Records. The inside was brightly lit, illuminated by the sky above. There were stairways leading up to a dozen floors; glistening translucent walkways suspended in midair, and along the walkways, row after row of bookshelves.

“I’ve been told that there are over thirty billion books here. But before we view any of them, I must caution you that the knowledge you can gain here can be enlightening, but it can also be very disturbing. This is the place Jesus spoke of when he told you that it was possible to fill in the blanks in your life on Earth. Anyone here in Heaven is free to explore the contents of these books. It is all here, and it’s not sugarcoated. The question is, whether you are truly ready to fill in those blanks. Most people shy away from this place, especially after they’ve gotten a taste of it. You might get more than you bargained for—I did.”

“I’d still like to see how it works,” Chris said. “I’m willing to take the chance.”

“But I’m not, at least not yet. Today, let’s play it safe. Let’s look in on the life of someone special. Now, who would you like to know about?” asked Jennifer, almost rhetorically. “I know, let’s find out all about me.”

Chris couldn’t help but laugh. “I hope you know the cataloguing system.”

Jennifer looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “Actually, I don’t have a clue.”

“OK,” Chris said, looking around. “So, how much time do you figure it’s going to take to find your book? Should we ask a librarian to help?”

“Well, I’m not all that sure that there’s a librarian, but we don’t need one. I can find my book. Follow me.”

“Lead on,” Chris said.

“Well, let me see,” pondered Jennifer, placing her index finger to her chin. “We’ve got to go up to the ninth level.” She pointed to a nearby stairway. “Race you.”

Jennifer was off like a flash. She had rounded the first turn of the marble spiral staircase before Chris had a chance to respond. In an instant he took off after her. As they steadily ascended, he pondered if it might be somehow sacrilegious to run up the stairs in the Hall of Records. He recalled Pastor Harris reminding him not to run up and down the stairs in the church when he was a youth. It was a rather noisy practice, and the pastor had been concerned about one of the children falling and getting hurt. Even his mother had reminded him several times about it. It wasn’t OK for him to run up and down the stairway in the church, but it was OK for her to run up and down the stairway in Heaven’s Hall of Records. He’d have to give her a good talking to later, but right now he’d focus on catching up.

Four, five, and six floors passed by, yet they both continued their pace, laughing all the way. Jennifer hit the ninth floor just four steps ahead of her son.

“Beat you!” she laughed.

Chris laughed. Right now, his mother seemed like a kid again. “It’s OK to run up the steps here?”

“Sure,” replied Jennifer. “God loves to watch His children playing.”

Chris was amazed that he didn’t feel the slightest bit winded after the long uphill run. He gazed around at the rows of books that seemed to go on forever. Now that he could get a closer look, he saw that the books were not all the same. About a quarter of the books were bound in the purest white, another quarter were a sort of light gray. A very few of the books were bound in glistening gold, while the remainder appeared to be bound in black.

“Is there some significance to the color of the books?” asked Chris, pointing to a nearby shelf.

“Oh yes,” confirmed his mother. “The books bound in white are the records of the saints, those who are already here in Heaven. The gold books are the records of the martyrs, those who lost their lives because of the profession of their faith. They are the most blessed of all of God’s children. The gray books are the records of those still living on Earth. Their fates hang in the balance. Even as we speak, those books are being written.” Jennifer paused and then smiled broadly. “Once, several years ago, I actually saw a gray book turn white, right before my eyes as another saint came home to glory. It was a wonderful feeling to know that the family of God had grown by one.”

“And the black books?” asked Chris.

There was a momentary silence. It was obvious that Jennifer didn’t want to speak of those books.

“Those are the books of those who departed life without accepting God’s plan of salvation. Without the blood of Christ to cleanse them, their sins have doomed them to eternity in outer darkness…to Hell.”

A chill passed through Chris. He knew that Hell existed, but no one in Heaven spoke of it. It was just too sad. No, not sad, tragic.

“My book is over this way,” said Jennifer, motioning to her right.

They journeyed down a long corridor lined with shelves of books. There were surprisingly few people here. Apparently, the contents of the books were something that most cared not to view. Yet there was one young woman, obviously of Oriental descent, standing in the corridor ahead of them. In her hands she held open a book, a black book. She seemed to take no notice of the passing pair.

Chris turned to look at the woman more carefully. She seemed to be in a trance-like state as she gazed at the thick volume. Though she uttered not a syllable, Chris could see the grief on her face, the tears in her eyes.

“Chris, come along,” urged Jennifer, “don’t disturb her. My book is down this way.”

Chris hesitated, then followed his mother. As it was with all people in Heaven, he recognized this woman. Her name was Mao Yeng. But to recognize her was not to understand the depths of her sorrow. Chris recalled a Scripture that spoke of weeping in Heaven. Perhaps it was sadness for those who had not made it, those individuals who had not found the narrow way.

Chris followed Jennifer until they stood before a shelf full of books. Jennifer reached for a book bound in white on the third shelf. Chris noted that his mother’s name was on the book’s cover. “Now wait a minute, Mom, how did you know where your book was? You’ve been here before, right?”

His mother looked back at him, the slightest of smiles upon her face. “Well, yes, but that’s not the way I found it. All I had to do was to think about the book I was looking for, and immediately I knew where it was.”

Jennifer paused to allow that concept to sink into her son’s thoughts before she opened the book to the first page. Yes, there were words in it, but Chris hardly had time to read them because he immediately saw a vision, not unlike the one he had seen in the Hall of Judgment. His surroundings faded to a deep blue, and in the midst of it all he saw a hospital room and his mother’s birth. He saw his grandmother hold his mother in her arms for the first time. It was incredible, and so very real. He could see the adult version of his mother standing by his side, watching the scene unfold before them, but the rest of the library had faded away. This was virtual reality on the ultimate scale.

“Do you remember the Dickens novel,
A Christmas Carol
?” asked Jennifer, turning to her son.

“Yes,” confirmed Chris, “the Ebenezer Scrooge story.”

“That’s right,” replied Jennifer. “The ghost of Christmas past took Scrooge by the hand and showed him a vision of the past, his past. The ghost told him that the images he saw were shadows and had no consciousness of him. Well, that’s the way it is here. This is a record of the past, like a movie, only more real.”

“In three dimensions,” noted Chris, turning to view the scene that totally wrapped around them. “It’s a hologram, a very big and detailed one.”

Jennifer smiled. “I’m not sure I know what a hologram is, exactly. But I suppose so. Why don’t we move forward a few years.”

The scene changed. Chris saw his mother as a child of nine, playing checkers with her grandfather at the kitchen table. The two laughed and joked around, while her mother prepared lunch for them. Beyond the window behind them, snow was falling. It was a beautiful family moment, full of love and fun. The two told corny jokes while they played the game.