2 Corinthians 12: “I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do not know—God knows. And I know that this man (…) was caught up to paradise and heard inexpressible things, things that no one is permitted to tell.”
On the risk of making myself look like an utter fool, I am going to share something deeply personal with the world that I have rarely shared with anyone at all. I doubt that even my wife knows this story:
I went to heaven.
I was only 13 at the time, in first grade of secondary school. The new school and friends lured me into secular lifestyle, and I generally became less interested in Christianity at the time. I was definitely still a Christian, just a bit lukewarm as they would say.
But I agreed to go to a Christian youth conference. One of the evening services there was called ‘Revival Night’, or more informally ‘crying night’ as usually about half the youth were crying their eyes out because of the convicting message of sin and salvation.
At some point there was the famous alter call. With soft music playing, the speaker asked us to come forward if we wanted to dedicate our lives to God. After a while I stood up, went forward, and closed my eyes.
Then the real presence of God hit me. The shells fell off my eyes, and I saw God, the Father, on the throne. He was about 10 meters high, quite a majestic sight. I felt horrified by this epiphany, because I felt deeply convicted, as a sinner. I actually looked down at my hands and I saw the blackest piece of black goo that I had ever seen. It scared me. It was my sin of the past and the future combined. Then I looked to my right, and I saw Jesus hanging on the cross, a live stream from 2000 years ago, at about 40 meters away. Under the cross was much more of this blacker-than-black sin, and with an overwhelming sense of relief I lumped mine on top of it.
Then I saw the Holy Spirit entering me like some barely visible wind gust, and I began to become totally transparent. The joy that I felt cannot be described with any pen (or keyboard for that matter). I felt like I was in complete harmony with the whole universe, I can remember I even saw bubbles running through my arms cleaning me everywhere. Then I heard a mighty voice say from the throne: “My Son”.
I felt a strong urge to become either a missionary or a doctor later in life. It was actually one of the driving forces to make me a missionary almost two decades later.
The end.
What Really Happened
The story above is what I have believed had actually happened over two decades ago. Up until a few years ago, this was my secret, my hidden confirmation that (almost) all that I believed in was right, and no matter the rational arguments of nonbelievers, I knew that God was real since I had seen Him!
Yet, was it really what happened?
Well… yes and no.
I can still remember that at the time I wasn’t shocked or blown away by the revelation in and of itself. Yes there were lots of feelings, but I wasn’t shocked by seeing another reality all of a sudden. Neither was the other reality as clear and detailed as everyday reality. So what was much more likely that happened, is that I imagined this kind of thing to happen, as I was in a very religious and emotional state at that time, and desperately wanted to see God. We were actually encouraged at that super-Christian getaway to picture God in our minds when we closed our eyes. So under the influence of all of those circumstances, plus puberty hormones, and a deep wish for providence, my teenage brain provided me with a vivid day dream which I conveniently labelled as an authentic trip to heaven.
I mean: black stuff in my hands, Jesus on a historically inaccurate T-shaped cross, Holy Spirit bubbles in my body… this is the imagination of a youngster, not a divine revelation from the Architect of the Universe.
However, since I also knew that the apostle Paul had said that we should not speak of such revelations, I kept it to myself. Which was nice, because nobody could scrutinize my highly personal story.
The Power of Testimony
On the other hand, many people do tell these sorts of stories. I have often heard that the best Christian witness in this ‘postmodern’ west is a testimony, since people can argue with you about facts (i.e. creation, the resurrection, trinity, Bible, etc.) but they can’t argue with your story. After all, you are the primary source, so you must either be right, or you must be like the growing nose of Pinocchio.
Powerful as they may seem to appear, does the greatest story of all times need to depend on little stories of people with their own testimonials? Where puberty daydreams become trips to heaven? And where a light and a voice convert a man to be Christianity’s most important writer? Where the voice can be heard by Paul’s companions in Acts 9, but cannot be heard by them in Acts 22?
I have learned my lesson. I rather have things that can be repeatedly shown to be true, instead of the heavily biased interpretations of people. Surely God knows that anecdotal stories are bad evidence, so why rely on them at all?
(ps sorry for the long break in blogging, I have moved places in the meantime! Stay tuned for more!)
May 14, 2016 at 00:39
Those “revivals” will do it every time! 😈
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May 14, 2016 at 15:09
I’m still waiting for my “moment”. But then, on the balance of probabilities, I still believe!
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May 14, 2016 at 18:04
I’ve found it’s been particularly challenging to let go of this certainty of having “been called” to do some work by God. I was never grandiose about it, but it brought me tremendous peace when things were difficult. What a comforting thought to know that I was where he wanted me to be at that moment! Definitely one of the multiple emotional benefits of believing. On the other hand, as I am still exploring what will be my own life’s purpose – it has been very liberating to be increasingly curious and accepting of other’s people varied life direction – including those who have chosen religion. All of our brains and ways of thinking are definitely shaped by our culture, personal experiences and genetics. It’s a beautiful thing that we can share our varied opinions and yet often discover that we connect on broader themes. In the end, that was one of my main problem with my christian experience – I could not continue to believe something that “imposed” on all humanity a definite way to think about life. And then I had to accept that I did not fit the mould either anyway…
It is interesting to me that you did not share your “heaven experience” to others – were you afraid of what they would think of it? Do you think it was somehow preserving the power of the experience to keep it to yourself? I’ve found that many christians (myself included) are definitely selective about what they share with others, especially with “non-believers” and it has always been disturbing to me. We convinced ourselves others won’t understand because they were not gifted with spiritual understanding, but I think it shows that many are indeed uncomfortables about some parts of their own beliefs.
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May 17, 2016 at 18:48
Good question as to why I did not share it. One reason is that Paul said that we shouldn’t, but I also realised it was a highly personal story that wasn’t much use to others. I think I (sub)conciously also realised that I was a bit exeggerating when I would label this as a trip to heaven, but I liked to convince myself that it was. On the few occasions that I did share the story, nobody ever questioned it by the way.
And yeah, definitely recognise that attitude of ‘the nonbelievers won’t understand’…. ha! Perhaps they understood a bit too well what was really going on!
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May 14, 2016 at 21:11
Oh that day, we stood upon our chairs and reached our arms towards heaven…then i saw a vision of the earth, and the light of God was shining on it and as it touched the earth this one light became many small light surrounding the earth: we were definately called to go to the earth and spread the news! Within time God revealed that we had to go to Belgium…so we prayed for Belgium and visited it and tried to prepare…but when time went on…no doors were opened, no extraordinary opportunity came across…and ten years later i was dissapointed that gods calling had not become reality…
Now i am an atheïst, i think it was just as you discribed it. A vifit imagination, a group of people dwelling in emotions centered arround ‘doing something great for god’, a need for adventure and new things in my own heart…thank god we never went there anyway😜😇
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June 22, 2016 at 22:54
The greatest story of all time of course stands on its own: God created the world, and God sent his Son to redeem the world after we messed it up. Of course, this great story can evoke strong emotions. It is very possible, likely even, that the form our response is a mix caused by our background and by God’s prompting. (The world does not consist of 1s and 0s.)
By the way, ‘phone’ in Acts 9 means ‘sound’ and in Acts 22 means ‘voice’. The sound was not heard as a voice. (Phone is both a 1 and a 0. I know, life is complicated.)
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June 23, 2016 at 18:44
The world actually consists of quantum particles which defy our everyday logic beyond your wildest dreams 😉
The whole point of my article was to show how feelings and visions of God’s prompting are entirely natural and can be explained. There does not need to be any God involved at all. Rather, wouldn’t it be a rather weird strategy for a God who wants to save the world to use ambiguous and often misguided feelings and visions during emotional songs to draw people towards him? Couldn’t think of some more direct methods of communication?
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July 2, 2016 at 16:51
What counts as ‘bad evidence’ is culturally determined. You may be right that storytelling is ‘bad evidence’ in the analytical west. But definitely not universal and in all times. In the centuries ahead of us, our evidence may be labeled ‘bad evidence’ as well.
Personally I think the power of lack of ‘strong evidence’ makes room for (some!) freedom. There’s enough light (arguments, experiences, stories…) for those who want to see the light, but enough darkness for those who don’t.
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