Heaven and Hell (30 page)

Chris did as he promised. Before bedtime, he had presented his petition to God in prayer; yet he still had some reservations. Was this really what he wanted?

“Father God, not my will but your will be done,” he said, as his prayer concluded. “You know what’s best for me. I leave it in your loving hands.”

And so, sleep fell upon him, a sleep without disturbing dreams, a sleep of total peace in the loving arms of the Father. It was the first of many peaceful nights, as the images in his head, the images of the mysterious young woman, faded away into oblivion. At last he could experience the undiminished joys of Heaven, the joy of being in the Father’s house forever.

M
ONTHS passed, and a spirit of peace and joy came to dwell in the mansion. The disturbing dreams that had troubled Chris during his first weeks in paradise had faded into the nothingness from which they had arisen, and finally Chris could enjoy the world that the heavenly Father had prepared.

The person, whoever he was, who said that Heaven was the most boring place in the universe, didn’t have a clue. How could he have? Life here was an adventure, a journey through a realm of infinite possibilities, and Chris was determined to explore them all.

Heaven’s vastness dwarfed the humble Earth. There were great snow-capped mountains, deserts, forests, fresh-water oceans vast and deep, and meadows filled with colorful flowers. To top it all off, Heaven’s many different environments were perfected well beyond any so called paradise Earth had to offer.

Now that Chris had mastered the art of physical projection, the process by which he could move instantly and effortlessly from one place to another far away, the ends of Heaven were open to him. His mother had told him that many people had problems making projection work when they first arrived in Heaven. The more intellectual individuals had the greatest problem because their earthly experience told them that such things aren’t possible. People didn’t simply teleport around on this side of the glass tube or silver screen. Their lack of faith became their stumbling block. They failed to understand that the power was within the Holy Spirit of God. It was a matter of childlike faith; they had to believe that it could be done.

Chris had figured it out quickly, and was swift to reap the benefits. Like a teenager who finally got his fingers on the keys to the family car, he was ready to explore. There was so much to see, and he was anxious to get started.

During the past months, Chris had visited the perfect beach, learned how to surf, and loved every minute of it. He had climbed to the summit of Heaven’s highest mountain peaks and explored the depths of a tropical jungle.

Closer to home, Chris spent many a pleasant afternoon fishing with Bill and Jerry. Sometimes, it was the simpler things that brought the most joy to his heart. Even Jennifer occasionally joined in the ongoing quest for the big one that always seems to get away. Apparently even Heaven was replete with traditional fish stories.

Chris was amazed to discover that many earthly sports survived in Heaven. His mother was correct when she had said that God loved to watch His children play. Even Chris’s favorite sport, tennis, was here; and there was no shortage of people who loved to play. Much of the equipment was fashioned by artisans in Zion, through the power of physical projection. They envisioned the equipment in their minds and turned that vision into physical reality.

The tennis games were fascinating to watch. With fatigue no longer a factor and the physical limitations of the players stretched, the games took on a new athleticism. Once, Chris actually saw a pair of angels play. Though their wings were somewhat of a hindrance, especially on the backhand, their ability to fly added a new dimension to the game. Truly, there was something here for everyone.

Chris made frequent trips to Zion, sometimes in the company of his mother, sometimes alone. He explored the many libraries, seeking out the wisdom of the ages. He wandered through the parks, mingled with people, and visited the shops of the craftsmen to experience the many faces of the beauty that is Heaven.

More importantly, however, he went there to commune with the Father. To actually hold a two-way conversation with God was the most precious experience of all. Their conversations were not unlike those between a son and his loving earthly father, except, of course, the heavenly Father is infinitely wiser.

This was the God of the Universe, the being who created all things, whose presence pervades everything. He was a personal and loving Creator. He didn’t demand the worship of His people; they gave it freely. Chris felt free to take any concern he had to Him and always spoke from the heart. God was never too busy to talk to him, never. Now, Chris understood how someone could remain for hours, even days, in the Father’s presence, not wanting to depart. The knowledge and wisdom that God imparted to him was a priceless treasure.

During one conversation, they might discuss the words of the prophets, and God’s plans for humanity. During another, the topic might be the physical nature of the universe, from atoms to stars.

Yet, God did not answer all of his questions directly. Sometimes, He would inspire Chris to seek out the answers himself. And the Father asked questions too, not to gather knowledge, but to bring Chris to explore his own heart. The Father spoke of the value of individual experience and personal discovery. Often the joy of discovery was found in the search itself. The Father’s guidance led Chris on many a wonderful adventure.

It was on one of those adventures when something most unusual and unexpected happened—at one of Heaven’s great libraries. Chris was in a vast central reading room, the size of a football field, amid a thousand other saints. On all sides, towering seven floors high, were great balconies, and beyond the balconies, well-lit corridors filled with books. Some of the books were the work of angels, others found their source amid the saints in Heaven, while still others were the popular classics written throughout the centuries on Earth.

Chris sat in a comfortable leather upholstered chair, engrossed in a large clothbound book that spoke of the early days of the Christian church in Rome. To say that the book spoke of events was very accurate, for upon opening it, he was engulfed in the experience, seeing and hearing the narration and the events of the past as if they were unfolding before him.

The book’s narration paused as Chris pondered the dangers and sacrifices the early converts faced every day because of their profession of faith. It made him appreciate how good life had been for him in 21st century America. Yes, there had been the controversy of prayer in the schools, the issues of morality and ethics in government, but these problems paled in comparison to the decadence that was first century Rome.

As Chris closed the book, he placed it on the long oak table before him, and his attention was drawn to a young woman across from him. She too was engrossed in a book, sitting spellbound as its message unfolded.

She was pretty, in her late twenties, with brown hair, and well proportioned. She was attired in a long, frilly white dress, laced up the front, with flowing sleeves. Like many of the people in Heaven, she apparently preferred to dress in the fashion of her time on Earth. From the looks of her, Chris figured that time must have been the late Middle Ages, perhaps the early Renaissance.

On Earth, a man, might have lusted after one such as her. However, that was not the sort of response that a woman elicited here. In a man’s eyes, she would be appreciated for her physical beauty, but not lusted after—that sort of thinking had been left far behind.

No, there was something else about this one. Her name was Elizabeth, Chris knew that much. She was familiar as all people in this place were, yet there was more. What was it about her that made her seem closer than everyone else around him? Why couldn’t he take his eyes from her? What was it about her?

Just then Elizabeth looked up from her book. Maybe it was just a random pause, but perhaps she had become aware that she was being watched. She glanced toward Chris and smiled. “Hello, Chris.”

“Oh, hello,” Chris replied awkwardly. “Sorry if it seemed like I was staring.”

Elizabeth giggled slightly. “Tis all right, Chris. Is there something on your mind, something you wanted to ask me?”

Chris turned a shade of red. He hadn’t offended her, he knew that, still it was embarrassing. “Yes…I mean no…well, you seem so familiar.”

Again there was a slight giggle. “Of course I seem familiar to thee, we are both children of God. I am thy sister.” Elizabeth paused to reflect. “Yet, I think it is more than that. Perhaps you have seen me here before. I come oft to the library. I come here to learn about the changing world, the Earth that we left behind.”

“What are you reading about today?” asked Chris, thinking that it might be best to change the subject.

“I am reading poetry, the poetry of a man by the name of Robert Frost. His work is really quite good.”

“I’ve heard of him,” confirmed Chris. “He was an American writer, lived about fifty years ago, I think.”

“Yes, that’s right,” replied Elizabeth, “four and a half centuries after my time on Earth. But, I believe that there was something on thy mind, something other than the poems of Mister Frost.”

Chris smiled. “Yes, it was just that there was something familiar about you, something beyond just recognizing you.”

Elizabeth smiled broadly, making Chris feel more at ease. “How long have you been here, Chris?”

“Just a few months, I arrived a few days before Christmas 2007.”

“My, 2007, so much time. It truly does not seem so long to me. Over five centuries separate our times on Earth, so we could not have met there. There was never a painting made of me during my lifetime, not even one. You see, my parents were poor and could afford neither a portrait nor a dowry for me. I was sent off to the convent when I was but thirteen, there to be schooled, and later, take my vows to serve the Lord and the holy mother church. There I remained for the next forty-one years. So you see, you could not have met me or even seen a painting of me.” There was a moment of silence as Elizabeth contemplated. “Perhaps it is that I look like someone you knew at one time or another.”

“That must be it,” replied Chris, whose embarrassment had returned anew. On Earth he had often had trouble talking to attractive women. That was until…his mind went blank. There had been a train of thought there, he was certain of it, but the tracks that had conveyed it had abruptly vanished. His uneasiness was growing. He was certain that he had just made a total fool of himself. Perhaps it would be best if he simply excused himself at this point.

“Do you know who?” asked Elizabeth.

Chris hesitated before responding. “No, I don’t think so.”

Elizabeth’s smile broadened, “Chris, I think you do.”

It took Chris a few seconds to recover from the shock of that one. “What?”

Elizabeth set her book down upon the table and leaned forward. Chris was surprised when she took his hand in hers. “Think back, Chris, who do I remind thee of, and why?”

This encounter was rapidly becoming deeper than Chris had intended. Elizabeth had, apparently, already made a connection that he was just finding now. Her face, her hair, even the clothing she was wearing, was remarkably similar to that of the mystery woman from his dreams. It had been months since that face had appeared in his mind’s eye, but he could see it now, more clearly than ever. Elizabeth didn’t look exactly like her, but there was a strong resemblance. How could she know? Did she know?

“Look, I need to be going, I’ve disturbed your reading enough,” said Chris, rising to leave.

“You can not walk away from this thing,” said Elizabeth, who seemed unwilling to release his hand. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know,” Chris admitted. “When I first arrived in Heaven, she appeared in my dreams. She was there night after night, like a phantom. Her face was familiar. I knew I should have known her, but I didn’t.”

“But she appears no longer,” deduced Elizabeth.

“No, she doesn’t,” Chris said. “Maybe it’s best that she doesn’t. I’ve found peace since she left.”

“Then she evoked bad dreams?” continued Elizabeth. “Bad dreams in Heaven are rare. In very truth, I cannot say that I have ever heard of such a thing.”

“No, they weren’t bad dreams,” Chris said, “not at all. Her appearance was comforting; I had the feeling that she was very important to me. I just couldn’t remember who she was.”

“Yes, I see,” said Elizabeth. Her eyes were deep and understanding. “Why did she go away?”

“I asked God to free me from those dreams, and that was the last I was bothered by them. That was all there was to it.”

“What did God tell thee about the dreams, about this woman of your dreams, that caused you to ask Him to free you from them?” asked Elizabeth, who now rose to her feet as well.

“Well, nothing,” was the reply. “I asked Him in prayer from my home. It doesn’t matter where I am; I know that the Father hears my every prayer.”

“That is true,” replied Elizabeth. “But it would seem that you did not want to hear what God had to say about your dream. Do you commune with Him often?”

“Well, yes,” replied Chris. How had he allowed this conversation to get this far? “I go to the holiest place to talk to God a lot.”