Leaving Heaven

A Memory of Heaven


I have a memory of Heaven. 

It's from a time period before I was born into my physical body. 

In the memory I'm making preparations for a long trip, as I know that I'll soon be leaving Heaven, and on my way to be born into the physical world, to the life that I now have.

I’ve carried this memory inside of me for over twenty-five years. 

I don't know where it's coming from.

I’ve prayed numerous times, asking God to reveal if my memory is true, my imagination, or worse, some kind of deception. I've tested and retested the memory, always keeping in mind the following scripture:

"do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see, whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world" (1Jn 4:1).

I want to suggest that you, the reader, do the same.

Only, pray with an open mind, trying to set aside your preconceived ideas of what the truth should look like, since our conclusions influence what we can see, hear and receive.

When I first started receiving pieces of this memory I was nineteen years old, going through a very difficult time period in my life. I was battling some sort of mental break-down that had caused me to lose touch of all my feelings and identity — a condition that stemmed from traumatic childhood experiences. I contemplated suicide. At that time I stumbled across a book written by a Native American woman, Betty J. Eadie, called Embraced by the Light. The book gave a detailed account of Eadie's Near Death Experience (NDE) that she had had in the early seventies after a routine surgical procedure at a local hospital.

In her book Eadie described the classic NDE experience of floating through a tunnel with a bright light at the end of it. On the other side of the light she met Jesus Christ — the source of that light. She was then given a tour of Heaven, or the spirit world, with Christ by her side, who explained in very practical terms how the spirit world works; why we’re born into such unequal conditions, why some people have to live with severe disabilities, while others can enjoy lifetimes of good health and prosperity. Christ also clarified why there are so many religions in the world, and why they’re all needed, how the physical and spiritual planes operate and communicate with each other, and many other such things pertaining to faith and spiritual laws.

For those of you who want to read Edie's book, it can be found here:

This Heaven/spirit world described by Eadie seemed faintly familiar to me, and made absolute sense. It gave me peace during my time of distress. It gave me perspective and hope. But most importantly, it made me change my mind about suicide, and turn my attention toward Jesus Christ, whom I a few years later accepted as my Savior.

Shortly after reading Eadie's book I started recalling bits and pieces of my own memory. 

It started off with rows of random images that gradually filled my mind as the days dragged on. The images came when I least expected them. I started remembering strange events and conversations taking place in otherworldly sceneries that felt very familiar to me. It was like I'd visited them only yesterday. They came from somewhere inside of me, a place I knew. No matter how faint the memories, how vague their echoes, they felt very real to me and convinced me of their authenticity.

For years, I've been afraid to share my memory. I had to muster up courage to do it now, here. I've struggled with how other Christians would react to this. I didn't want to be labeled a heretic, a false prophet or some kind of egomaniac -- or a dreaming fool! For a while I even contemplated burying the idea of documenting this altogether. But as I thought about doing that, there were several little things that happened that convinced me otherwise.

For example, one day I happened to visit a local bookstore. As I walked in, the first thing that caught my eye in the bookshelf was a book called Memories of Heaven; Children’s astounding recollections of the time before they came to earth. It was put on display in the front as the book of the week. I picked it up and started reading. To my surprise I discovered a compilation of short statements made about Heaven by very young children, put together by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer and Dee Garnes. I have no idea who these people are, nor did I know that such a book existed. But there it was, in the bookshelf, almost as if it had been placed there just for me as an encouragement, to say: "Yes, go for it. Write about your Memory of Heaven!"

That's how I took it anyway.

If you're interested in the book, you can find it here:

I don't know where my memories come from, but I'm thankful for them. They've carried me, encouraged me and cheered me along when I've felt like giving up. They've given me patience and perspective during times of, what I consider, extreme human suffering. There have been several days when I've felt that they've literally kept me from losing my mind. I have no idea what I would've done without them.

Are they real? I don't know.

Except, that they're inside of me, and in that sense undeniably real, regardless of their origin. They're my strength and my rock, and I've returned to them for comfort again and again when life has beaten me down.

If nothing else, I want my my memories to accomplish one thing. To leave you with the gift of hope that they've given me. And that hope is the comfort and promise of a real Heaven waiting for us after we die that will make all of our earthly sufferings worth while.

These are my memories:

Leaving Heaven

The first thing I remember is that someone comes to me with a message. They tell me that I must go and meet someone.

I don’t know what my exact location is when this message comes, or what my surroundings look like in detail, as the images are somewhat blurry. But I know that I’m surrounded by stars, as if I’m in outer space, and that I'm somewhere in the spirit world. I know that I’ve been here for a long time, and that this is my true home.

When I’m first approached by the messengers (there are maybe three of them), I’m standing somewhere in outer space. I remember many sparkling colors around me. They swirl and glitter. I don’t know if these glittering things are stars, or something else, but further away from me there’s a magnificent galaxy spreading out as far as eye can see. I remember admiring it from where I stand, thinking that everything is incredibly beautiful. I know that I can move through this space with incredible speed, the speed of light, or faster, and that there are many worlds that I can go and visit, with endless possibilities. 

I have a deep sense of dignity about myself. I feel both respect and love towards myself and others. I’m used to feeling this way, like I matter. I know that others feel this way too, as love, respect, peace and happiness are the norm here.

We’re all very happy, simply full of joy.

I’m a spirit. I have a spiritual body, different from the earthly body that I now possess. And although my body is strong and youthful, I know that it’s very old and has probably existed for eternities. I have the sense that I’ve been traveling for quite some time now. I don’t know where I’ve been, but I know that I’ve been busy doing important things. I don’t know what those things are, except that they’re “my job.” But lately, I have the sense that I've been on vacation, sort of between jobs. 

This is when the message comes. It’s a call for my next assignment.

As I stand communicating with the messengers in this star-filled place, I feel very peaceful and at ease. I’m not sure whether the messengers are angels, human spirits or something else, but I know that I’ve met them before, and that they’re my very good friends — like close family, and that they’re giving me their message with love. 

As we talk, another spirit, a human male, enters our company. He's not one of the messengers, but seems to have stopped by just to listen to our conversation in order to learn something. I know that I’ve met this person on earth, but only once, and very briefly. Why he’s part of this meeting now, and how he’s relevant to anything, I have no idea, but there he is, in our company in the spirit world, listening and making his comments. He’s very happy. His interjections to our conversation are made in a joking manner. I get the sense that in the spirit world I know him quite well, and that he’s an old friend, and a member of my larger family group.

The messengers tell me that I've been called for a mission and must go and discuss it with someone very important.

"What's the mission?"

Instead of revealing this information the messengers ensure me that the important person will let me know everything that I need to know.

I get the sense that my future mission is extremely important.


The next thing I remember is that I’ve arrived, and I’m now in the company of that very important person.

It’s Jesus Christ.

But at this point — I don’t really know Him.

At least not very well. I may know of Him, I may have heard of Him, but that’s all.

I don’t know why I don’t know Him, but the sense that I get is that it has something to do with my level of enlightenment and the paths that I’ve traveled, which so far haven’t led me to Him.

We sit side by side in outer space on a small celestial body, a small planet or perhaps a meteor, and watch out into the glittering galaxy. I feel so safe by his side. So right and fulfilled. We talk about many things, our conversation is deep and meaningful. We talk about spiritual things -- how it all works. I ask questions, and he responds, and each one of his responses hits me as being the right and most perfect answer.

I'm not sure if we’re using words in our communication, or if all of our thoughts are transferred from mind to mind through some kind of telepathic exchange. However this communication happens, it’s effortless, and our thoughts flow very easily between the two of us. The misunderstandings that so easily interfere with people’s communications on earth don’t exist here. The different meanings and associations of the same word that might create confusion, the limited understanding of the topic at hand, or any other emotional or physical barrier is not an issue. We feel each other's feelings and thoughts. We see them. Not only are ideas conveyed more easily, and more completely, but also the other person's intentions that go along with them, as well as any other spiritually relevant information. 

We talk about how there are many levels in the spirit world, with sprits existing on all of them. While some spirits inhabit very low vibrational planes, others exist on very high ones, all depending on the spirit's past choices, level of understanding and advancement. We talk about how knowledge is freely accessible for all, but how the acquiring of that knowledge depends on the spirit in question. Everyone can choose to grow as fast or as slowly as they want, or even remain stagnant without any progression if that's what they choose to do. As for me, I’m an advanced spirit with a tremendous hunger for knowledge and an intense desire to grow. I feel that this is the reason why I’m here in the first place, next to Christ, as his eager student: My desire to learn and grow has automatically brought me here. We talk about this, and what the next chapter of my spiritual journey will look like.

I sense that there are certain realities and qualities in me that I’ve forgotten about. I know that some things in me are dormant, such as the knowledge of my origins, my deepest, truest identity, and my relationship to others. Eternity is long, and I've travelled for a very long time, experiencing many things, and forgotten about others while accumulating these experiences. This might also be the reason why I don't know Christ, although somewhere deep in me I also have a faint sense that I actually know Him very well. That I've always known.

As I sit there next to Him I think about the legends attached to His person. I’m aware of the stories that circulate in the spirit world, and what some spirits say about Him -- that He's the Redeemer of humankind. I’m not sure where I stand with that information, whether I believe it or not. A lot is said here. I've learned that everyone has an opinion about everything, but in order for me to find out what the real truth is, I need to discover it for myself. That’s how it works. Only the truth that you discover for yourself matters. It must resonate with your being, rise from within you to have any kind of meaning. No one can dictate the truth to you. It would be meaningless that way, as truth can only be found – inside of you. So I just sit and listen, and stay open to all possibilities, ready to draw my own conclusions.

While I trust in my instincts I’m also very aware of my limits. I know that I don't know everything, and that there's a protective veil that exists around me that prevents me from seeing the full truth in some matters. It’s my level of knowledge that keeps the veil in place, and it’s there for my own protection. But as far as Christ's person is concerned, my belief at that moment in time (which later changes), is that He's some kind of spiritual master.

There are many masters in the spirit world. These are highly developed spirits that can guide and advice other spirits towards higher awareness. That’s their job. As there are many ways to access knowledge, there are also many masters who can assist with the various developmental paths that spirits take, all depending on their spiritual needs. There are no rigid rules for how spiritual growth should be accomplished or what it should look like. It all depends on the spirit in question and their specific needs. Rigid spiritual rules are an earth mindset, based on people’s limited, earthly views on spirituality and/or religion. Here in the spirit world there is freedom from such imprisoning ideas. There's fluidity. Whatever a spirit's specific needs for growth are, they are free to pursue them through whatever avenue that best addresses those needs. 

As I sit here, next to my teacher, I know that He'll be teaching me some valuable lessons about myself and reality. He’s already gained my trust, and I know that His guidance is reliable. I can sense His wisdom and power emanating from Him. It’s mesmerizing. Even for this place He’s unusual — here, where the unusual is the norm. I can sense pure authority, but also, in equal amounts, love, wisdom and beauty. I’m impressed.

I’m not usually this impressed.

The following is embarrassing for me to write. But I’ll write it, since I’m committed to conveying this memory as fully and honestly as I can. I also think that this detail, however embarrassing, describes my personality well, and is consistent with my life struggles, which have had a lot to do with the theme of loneliness.

What I remember is that lately I’ve been on the lookout for my male counterpart. I don't know why, but that’s the underlying thought as I sit there, talking to Christ. I know that I’m definitely a female spirit, and certainly not male, and somewhat unfulfilled in my femininity. There's a longing in me to find a male spirit that would complement me in every way. I know that I haven’t found him yet, but as I sit next to Christ, who happens to be male, I keep mirroring myself against Him, wondering if it could be Him.

Of course it turns out that it's not. 

I discover that later, when I get to know Him better and discover His true nature. I realize then how absurd the idea was to begin with, however normal. We talk about it then, as we talk about everything. There are no taboos between us, no fear or awkwardness, only transparency and trust. We simply look at these thoughts as important reflections of my inner processes and needs, and treat them with utmost respect. We look at them for what they are, analyzing them objectively without making any judgments about them. I realize then that there’s nothing that I couldn’t share about myself with Him, no random thought or embarrassing secret. This is because there’s no shame with Him, only love, respect and acceptance. I also realize that He fills me in a completely different way, a way that I didn’t think was possible, and didn't know how to ask for. 

But that’s later.

As of now, I keep analyzing myself in respect to Him, comparing His wisdom to mine, asking myself if I’ve found my match. I do this, because I’m not used to finding individuals that fully “get me" — and since Christ does, completely, and absolutely, and is constantly blowing my mind with His brilliant insights, I feel that I've arrived where I belong. The conversation that evolves between us is deep. We talk about many complex things that address many of my deepest core questions. We talk about my past missions and unique life challenges and struggles. We talk about the truth. I don’t remember many details of this conversation, except the main points and vague pieces from here and there that deal with my own spiritual growth and insights about the spirit world. But I’m left with the impression of a wonderfully freeing conversation that allows me to reveal everything that’s been weighing on me, without having to worry of it scaring or offending Christ, or being too hard for Him to comprehend.

I almost never feel this way.

Normally I feel that I'm on a different wavelength from others. I'm forced to hold back many of my thoughts. I don’t want to hold back, but I feel that it's not safe for me to freely express them. So I edit myself. This is because I know things about people that I know would make them feel uncomfortable if I told them. I see things in others that they're not aware of in themselves. I locate emotional and spiritual imbalances. I find wounds. How exactly I do this, I don't really know. But I'm aware of those areas in people that need to heal, their grey areas and illusions, their egos, their self-deception. I see them. I feel them. And I know that bringing these things up wouldn't be safe, because it creates such discomfort in people. Because facing our illusions is such a painful process. So in order to fit in, and to make others feel comfortable around me, I cut these thoughts out, and usually try to make myself “smaller." I "dumb myself down," and pretend that I don't see what I see in order not to ruffle any feathers.

And because of this heavy knowledge that I'm unable to share, I feel separated from others and walk with a constant air of solitude permeating my existence. It’s not loneliness per se — like everyone else here, I’m too happy to be lonely — but there's a feeling of spiritual maturity that often makes it difficult for me to fully bond with others. And for this reason I cherish the conversation with Christ so much, as He sees everything that I see, and I don't need to hold anything back. All my thoughts are immediately understood and received, and I don't need to fear His rejection.

We move on to talk about my mission.

Christ tells me that I'll have an opportunity to complete my mission on earth in a physical body. It’s very important for me to do this mission now in order to grow. He tells me that I’m on my way to a higher spiritual ground, and this, in a very generalized sense, is what my mission will be about. My own growth. But it will also have to do with a unique message that I'll be able to communicate to others as a result of that growth. It's my many past missions and travels that have trained me and made me ready for this chapter of my spiritual journey.

At some point I bring up the question of hell.

“It’s not true, is it? What some say? That some will be lost forever?”

I expect Christ to confirm my assumption. This is because earlier He has confirmed so many of my other conclusions that I’ve made about the workings of the universe, proving many of my beliefs correct. Besides, the idea of hell seems strange to me, because, as a general rule, there are always second chances in the spirit world. Here, love and forgiveness always have the last word. And it’s absolutely necessary for it to be that way, since so many of us need so much time to find our ways out of our spiritual dead ends. For this reason, I’m expecting Christ to confirm my beliefs in regards to eternal damnation. 

But He doesn’t.

Instead He asks me to follow Him.

He tells me that there’s something that He wants to show me.

Next, He opens up some kind of portal before us in outer space, or wherever we are. I don’t know exactly how this happens, but all of a sudden we’re looking down through many layers of worlds, or spiritual planes, through some kind of visual portal that reaches down to a very low level in the spirit world, some kind of bottom part — a kind of cellar. And as we look down there, far away from where we’re at, we’re suddenly taken down to that level, and appear standing in the midst of it, on this low, dungeon-level of the spirit world. It’s a dark and hopeless place, a rough and deserted terrain, with some kind of reddish dirt covering the ground. 

As we stand there, we see some kind of creature crawl past us on the ground, in the reddish dirt. We see the creature, but the creature doesn’t see us, as we’re invisible to him. "Creature” is the only word that I can come up with for such an atrocious being. Although, I know that a very long time ago it used to be something else. But what’s left of it now is nothing but a creature, a downgraded, warped distortion of its past glory, a life-force that’s lost all resemblance of a living being — an anti-life. The sight of it is horrific, sad and deeply disturbing. A perverted smirk hovers on its face, as its muscular animal body crawls and twitches across the red dirt. In a strange, backwards way, it seems quite pleased with itself, although nothing of its state of mind could be described as “happy.” And yet, “happy” is what it is, in a completely perverted, nauseating backwards way. I stand next to Christ watching it in shock, understanding that I’m witnessing an embodiment of pure evil: A demon.

“I can’t reach him anymore,” Christ whispers. His eyes look hopeless, as they follow the snickering creature that crawls past us on the ground.

I feel His heart break with each move the creature makes.

“No!” I say. “There’s still hope for him!”

But He shakes His head.

“He’s gone. Completely lost. He’s moved past the point of no return.”

“The point of no return?!" I protest. This is news to me.

Surely there must be something that can be done for him?!”

I say this, because it’s what I’ve learned and come to know. There’s always hope in the spirit world. Anything else — I refuse to believe. It’s too hard to take in. Too hard to accept.

“He didn’t want to come to me,” Christ says, “and I couldn’t change his mind. There was nothing I could do about it, nothing at all, because he didn’t want to. It was his decision. His choice. He didn’t want my love.”

“No,” I say. “No.”

I can’t wrap my head around it. I struggle with it, I choke up, fight it. As if I was trying to swallow up a boulder. It won’t go down. I just can’t see how any spirit could possibly ever want to make such a decision, to deliberately choose to turn away from the light. And to this? This absurd reality? And for it to exist hand in hand with the beauty and peace of the spirit world that I enjoy. And reject it?

But yet, there it is.

And I’m watching it with my own eyes.

Confused and sad I follow it along, not wanting to see what I see, but unable to deny its existence. As I observe the creature crawl past me, I contemplate the significance of what I’m witnessing. I understand that ultimately this is Christ’s response to my question regarding hell. There’s nothing else added to it, no other explanation, no elaborations. What this specifically means for the rest of us, I don't exactly know, and don’t want to elaborate on, or even think about. So I'll leave it at that. But I want to be completely honest about my feelings about this topic: Anything and everything that has to do with the idea of hell I've always feared and hated, and I refuse to ever pretend anything different. I accept God's authority. I believe that as a superior being He knows what's best for His creation. Yet for the life of me I can't understand how anyone could ever possibly be comfortable with the idea of someone ending up in hell. If I could be an ostrich and bury my head in the sand forever, pretending that this topic didn't exist, I'd be more than happy to do so.

A deep sadness moves in, permanently changing my perception of reality. It turns everything on its head, causing something in me to shift for good. It adds a layer of sorrow into all the light and beauty of the spirit world, making its shapes more valuable and real now that I know, that it’s possible to lose it forever.

I’ll never be the same again. 

The Garden With the Long Grass

Now Christ leads me to a garden, or a meadow. Like everything else, I remember the images of our surroundings vaguely, since my focus is on the spiritual lessons that are taught, not on any visual details from our environment. But the few images of my surroundings that have survived are those of a meadow with long grass and wild flowers. I also remember the emotional impact that the place has on me; how the wild, unkempt meadow in all its simplicity completely manages to bulldoze me with its beauty.

We wade through the grass in peaceful silence until we reach a wooden barn that stands deserted in the right corner of the meadow. The barn is old and faded with gray wooden planks for walls that let daylight stream in through the cracks. Christ leads me in, and I follow. Inside there’s nothing but a dirt floor. I stare at it, puzzled. Why has Christ led me into an empty barn? A shack? I don’t have the answer to that question, but the thought that reaches me now, as I’m writing this — and I’ve never thought of this before — is that perhaps the barn is the same one that He was born in, in Bethlehem, over two-thousand years ago? I don’t know why I think this, or if it’s true, but that’s the thought. My other impression is that in all its humble, worn-out state, the barn somehow represents the highest expression of beauty and sacrifice that exists in the universe.

Next — there’s a gap in my memory. I have no recollection of what goes on inside the barn, as the memory of it has been completely removed from my mind, except for a vague impression of images of turbulent waters that symbolize an absolutely extreme level of suffering. I’ve seen these rapids in my dreams before, in my childhood, and sensed that suffering then, separate from my own, but bleeding into my own experience, almost as if the memory of Christ’s sufferings were deposited in me and live there now on a subconscious level.

The next image is of what takes place at the very end, right before we leave the barn: At this point I’m on my knees on the dirt floor, crying, completely overcome by emotion, trying to come to terms with what I’ve just witnessed.

Christ has just shown me His Heart.

How He's done this, and what it has entailed, I've no idea. All I know is that it has had something to do with His suffering and sacrifice for others, revealing His own personal journey and experiences, and His investment of Himself to others, for the sake of love. Whatever it is that He's shown me has caused me to collapse at His feet, convincing me of His unquestionable superiority, astounding humility, love, and BRAVERY — as well as my own need to do everything for Him from now on. I tell Him that. I tell Him that I want to give my life to Him, that whatever He wants me to do, I will do, and wherever He wants to send me, I will go, and serve Him, and follow Him. I tell Him this through tears, barely able to see Him, to speak. I’m undone, holding my chest, wounded by His beauty, feeling deeply privileged to be in His company. Nothing that I’ve ever experienced can compare to what I’ve just witnessed; His bravery, His integrity, His beauty. It bypasses anyone else’s, anywhere. No one comes even close. Anyone trying to compete with Him — anyone foolish enough to try — must lower their face in shame.

I now understand that not only is He my spiritual brother, and my best friend, but at the same time, He's also fully God.

The Father

Next Christ leads me farther away in the garden, to the right, away from the barn, but still nearby. He explains to me that He wants to show me the Father. Although I know that the Father is always present, and everywhere, Christ still wants to show me a very specific location somewhere in the spirit world (or maybe this part should be called Heaven?) where the Father dwells. Maybe the place where we go is in the garden, maybe not, but we go there directly from the barn. It’s near. We approach some kind of Throne surrounded by many colors that has something that looks like a rainbow above it. I remember sensing incredible power around it, an all-consuming fire. I know that I have every reason to be absolutely terrified, because I know that I could easily be destroyed by this fire. The power and purity of the Father is so absolute that it brings out all my own impurities, making them very apparent. It’s as if you placed a white sheet of paper next to the whitest white in the world and compared the two together. What used to look white before, looks now, in comparison to this whitest white, like a dark, muffled grey. I’m that muffled grey — standing surrounded by that bright white, that fire, helpless and unable to do anything but be, completely vulnerable and exposed. I know that in different circumstances my impurities could be zapped by this all-consuming fire, like an insect is zapped by a flame, but for some reason I’m not destroyed by the fire, and not even afraid. I sense Christ standing next to me, and feel His assurance. I also sense the Father’s enormous love for me, and know that He would never, ever want to use His power to hurt me in any way. He explains this to me, and it gives me a great sense of peace.

I know that I’m absolutely safe here, close to the Father’s fire, because the Father sees my intentions and desire to obey Him. He explains this to me. He explains that He knows that the intentions of my heart are good, and even though I very often fail to meet His expectations, my failure doesn’t really matter to Him. What matters to Him is my intention, and my honest effort.

With this attitude I understand that my heart is in an innocent state that’s acceptable to the Father. I have had a dream about this state of mind before, and in my dream God gave it a name: 

He called it the Innocent Place.” 

This heart attitude, “The Innocent Place” is like the eye of a hurricane or the center in a ring of fire. It’s a place where you’re surrounded by a storm, or flames all around, and you can feel that storm or the heat of those flames, but as long as you stand in the center of it, you won’t be harmed.

You remain still.

You know that you could move towards the edge, you know that you have the freedom and power to do that, but why would you ever want to? It would be foolish, as you don’t want to be caught by the wind or burned by the flames. So you don’t move. You stay still, you stay in His will — in the Innocent Place. And since I remain in this Innocent Place, I’m completely protected where I stand, close to the Father. I know that I can stay here for as long as I want, unharmed, and have nothing to fear. 

For a while, how long, I don’t know, could be minutes, could be days, I bathe in the Father’s Love, happy to be there. 

And then Christ and I move on.

My Body

Next Christ takes me to an area with rolling, green slopes that look over a grass valley. Here, on this slope, He starts talking to me about my future mission in more depth. He explains to me that I’m going to have to be born to earth. My mission will have something to do with that. He shows me my future body through the same hologram that I’ve looked through before. Again, we look down at an image, this time of my naked, lifeless body that is lying next to my mother’s naked body. The eyes are closed, and the bodies are lying on their backs facing upward, side by side. Both of the bodies are adult bodies, mine is at least in its twenties, more likely thirties, and a bit smaller than my mother’s. I can see how the physical features of my body resemble those of my mother’s, and I also notice that both of our faces look a bit strange, even spooky. This is because there are no expressions on them, as human bodies are nothing but empty suits that the life giving spirit slips into, illuminating it. When that life is absent from the face it creates a strange, mask-like appearance, making the face look blank — and in my eyes — unattractive.

As I stand next to Christ, looking into this hologram with the image of my future self, I know that I can be completely honest and tell Him exactly how I feel about it. (He’d know anyway, even if I tried to hide it.) So I tell Him exactly how I feel — that I don’t like the way she looks. I say this half-jokingly, not worried about offending Him with it, even though He’s the one who picked the body for me. I know He can handle it.

“She’s ugly!” I say. 

“No, she’s not!” There’s an amused glimpse in the corner of His eye when He says it, sort of like: “Oh come on now!”

(In truth, she’s not that ugly, it’s nothing terrible, really, she’s just a bit plain Jane, pale and colorless, with thin mousy hair and an average body, but to me this means that she’s not living up to my expectations. — Because I’m vain!)

There’s a wonderful vibe between the two of us that I want you to know about.

It’s this constant, playful banter happening in kind spirit, a bit like something you would imagine between an older, more mature big brother and his baby sister, whom he loves very much. All our conversations are sprinkled with it, we laugh all the time, heartily, sometimes to the point of tears. I remember Christ with the most amazing sense of humor of anyone I know! His humor has a very disarming and kind quality about it, warm, witty and wonderful, never hurtful, but always in tune with my feelings, and always sensitive.

The conversation about my future appearances goes on for a while like a gentle rope-pulling match between two friends, with me half-arguing with Him about my earthly looks and Him cheerfully defending them, not feeling bothered by my objections in the slightest. As the realization starts slowly sinking in that this is indeed who I will be on earth, I turn less cheerful and gradually whinier and whinier. How quickly I’ve forgotten my promise to follow Christ wherever He wants! But the reason for my current apprehension is that I’ve always felt very sensitive about my physical appearance. It’s been somewhat of a stumbling block for me, a soul issue that has followed me around in my travels. Although Christ completely understands this and has compassion for me, it’s also one of the reasons why He has designed me to look exactly like this — to give me an opportunity to overcome this soul issue. And to be more exact, it’s actually what my own soul has ordered, since the issue is there.

Although my complaints are mixed with humor, I really do feel royally disappointed and worried about my future in this body. I can see the medical issues it comes with, struggles with chronic pain and various other health problems that will give me so much grief down the line. But above all, it’s the thought of looking like this that bothers me the most! In the back of my mind there’s an idea of having been born before (more about that later), and since I remember being fairly attractive in my recent past lives (although I don’t remember any of them) — I'm used to it now. On top of it, in the spirit world I’m a complete knock out, so I’m a little spoiled too! Maybe for this reason I’ve expected to be born attractive again, having automatically assumed that this would be the case. But now, finding out that this won’t happen, it’s quite a hard pill for me to swallow. But swallow I must. Or. I could always use my free will to reject the mission and the body that Christ is proposing to me, but since I know that He ultimately knows what’s best for me, what’s the point? I know the wisest thing to do is to obey His directions.         

But there’s always room for negotiation.

“Look,” I try, pointing at my body, giving Christ a list of the top features I dislike. “I don’t think I can handle it.”

“For this mission,” Christ says, “you need to look like this.”

“She’s ugly,” I repeat.

“No,” Christ responds, “she’s perfect! Perfect in every way for what she needs to be in order to accomplish your mission on earth. The way she looks is tailor-made for what she needs to do!”

I’m still not convinced. At this point Christ starts giving me examples of all the things that I will do in order to make myself feel happier about myself. He refers to makeup and things like that, showing me snippets of my life in the hologram, where I see myself fixing myself up in different ways to feel more satisfied about who I am, as people in our society so often do. It’s not that He’s advising me to wear makeup at all, it’s not His recommendation. As a matter of fact, I think He’d rather prefer me without it. He’s simply stating to me how wearing make-up and fixing myself up is something that I will choose to do in order to feel more confident about myself, and helping me see how I will get by just fine as the person that He has chosen me to be.

Seeing this helps me a bit, enough for me to accept my fate and put the matter to rest, but I do it with long teeth.

(Later on, as we analyze my future life I’m left with the sense that as far as my physical appearances go — since it’s such a difficult and touchy subject for me — this soul issue may be one that I’m never able to fully overcome in my lifetime, but only in part. But I’m not sure.)

As Christ shows me more images, I can see myself going through changes, with some kind of physical transformation taking place somewhere down the line (I don’t know what that transformation is, or when it happens). I point out to Christ that at that time I no longer think that I look as bad as I did before, but in fact, quite attractive. I’m quite excited about it. But Christ just nods and smiles. I get the impression that my looks are rather unimportant to Him, and actually not the point at all. It’s not that He doesn’t feel compassion towards my insecurities about my looks, because He does, it’s just that He’s more focused on the tasks at hand, my mission, and wants me to feel the same. This is because my disappointment with my looks as well as other earthly discomforts are completely temporary, and for this reason my focus should be on my mission and the successful completion of it, since the results of that will be eternal.

The Valley

Now Christ leads me to meet various human spirits.

Many of them I know from prior encounters, having met them either in the spirit realm, or during my past physical lives. I don’t know what those encounters have looked like, but there’s a sense of familiarity and knowledge of shared history around some spirits. There are also entirely new acquaintances. I know that I’ll be meeting up with these spirits again on earth, where we’ll all be leaving soon. Connecting with them now is an important part of our preparation before our departure. I know that each of them will have some type of impact on my life, and I will have an impact on theirs. Even though sometimes that impact might be perceived as negative from an earthly perspective, as soon as we’re back in the spirit realm we’ll look at these experiences with entirely different eyes – a much deeper appreciation. From the spirit world’s perspective, which is set in eternity, and comes with a front-row view into our true spiritual state, we can see much more completely our spiritual needs, and understand how acutely both positive and negative experiences are needed for our development. For this reason, everyone here is happy to meet, regardless of the nature of our earthly encounters. We know that our future connections will provide us with valuable opportunities for spiritual growth, and that it’s entirely up to us whether or not we choose to take advantage of those opportunities.

We are each other’s teachers.

We’re still located on the hills overlooking the grass valley, but have now moved slightly lower down the slopes. The valley is large, reminding me of a big national park with its surrounding rolling hills and abundant nature. I remember moving around different parts of it with Christ, who usually first introduces me to someone and then leaves, allowing me to connect with people on my own. Later He returns and leads me aside, either to discuss something in private, or to introduce me to some other key player of my life. He comes and goes, kind of like a busy CEO who's in great demand running a successful business.

I get the sense that the valley serves as some type of “waiting area” for spirits that are preparing to be born into their physical bodies. It’s like a large “airport,” where people gather before their departure. The same feelings of excitement, anticipation and nervousness for the upcoming journey that can be felt on earthly airports are present here. Final words of encouragement and affection are exchanged between loved ones, as no one wants to leave anything undone or unsaid that could be of slightest assistance for where we’re heading. We know that we’re going to need all the help we can get, as our journeys will not always be easy. Soon we’ll all have to move on to the valley’s final unsettling destination; a portal on the bottom of the hills that transports spirits out from the comforts of the spirit world – and into the harshness of the physical realm.

I don’t know all the spirits here and they don’t know me. Most of us meet within our own individual family groups, which consist of spirits that share similar spiritual missions, challenges and goals with us, and whom we’ve formed spiritual contracts with in the past, either while in our physical bodies or in the spirit realm. I see clusters of family groups everywhere on the surrounding hills and the valley. There are so many of them that they look like dots of ants. Even though we all stay within our individual spirit groups, we know that we’re all part of God’s larger spiritual family and each other’s spiritual brothers and sisters, and here to help each other achieve the same common goal – to develop our spirits and to grow in knowledge and love.

For some reason I don’t remember meeting all the key people in my life here. Many family members and friends that have been essential parts of my life on earth are missing. I have no idea why. But my theory is that perhaps I only meet those spirits that help shape me in those specific areas that tie directly into my future spiritual mission on earth – my main life goal? I get the sense that it has something to do with that. In a few cases I also feel that it’s more about the other spirit needing specifically my help in order to achieve their highest spiritual goal. My other theory on meeting only these particular spirits, is that since the spirit world consists of hierarchic layers that move from lower to higher frequencies, with spirits settling on those planes that best line up with their particular level of enlightenment, perhaps I only meet those spirits that fit into the same frequency with mine? But I don’t really know. Whatever the reason, I know that meeting with these spirits now prepares us for some important future event, and that we’re all functioning as critical puzzle pieces in each other’s lives.

– Side note: As I write this, the phrase “valley of decision” keeps popping up in my mind. I’ve read this phrase before in the Bible and remember wondering if my valley was the same one spoken of there. But I don’t remember the scriptures now. So I google it. This is what shows up. In the Book of Joel 3:14 it says: “Multitudes, multitudes, in the valley of decision! For the day of the LORD is near in the valley of decision.” As it happens, this place really is a valley of decision, as everyone here has a choice to either cooperate with the life plan that God has carved out for them, or not. I don’t know what the resistance would look like, whether the spirit then could actually decide not to be born, or make independent adjustments to their life plan, but from my own situation I remember that the reason why I had such a long negotiation with Jesus about my future body is that I DIDN’T have to accept it. I had absolute free will to do whatever I wanted to do, and if rejecting the body was it, that was totally fine – it was my decision. I obviously chose to accept it, because resisting God’s advice didn’t seem like a good idea. Part of it was pure logic. The way I felt about it was like with one of those dentist’s appointments that you hate to go to, but know will ultimately be for your own good. You know that that bad tooth needs work, and won’t go away on its own, and that delaying the inevitable will only make matters worse. So I accepted the suffering – with long teeth.

Another thing about the valley that seems to line up with Joel’s valley, is that in my gut I have a sense of an approaching judgment looming somewhere in the horizon as I walk around it’s hills. I have a sense that a time for spiritual evaluation is soon due (the Day of the LORD?), and that some spirits are stubbornly avoiding this reality. I meet a group of them further away from the valley, whom I sense are “slackers,” and in denial about it. They seem to think that they can go on forever on their current spiritual level without having to do any adjustments or work on themselves. They seem to be forever relying on the spirit world’s rule of second chances, shamelessly taking advantage of this grace. There’s almost a party mentality around them. They look very carefree at their little gathering on the grassland where they stand in clusters interacting with each other. I stand higher up on the hill observing them in deep concern. I feel that these spirits are not ready or willing to develop and grow. I try to tell them about my experiences with Jesus and what He has told me. “Things won’t always remain this way!” I call out. “Change is coming!” But they won’t listen, they shrug it off. To them I’m just another “religious nut,” whom they politely ignore. I fear for the future of these spirits, as I know that they’re totally unprepared for the rapid changes that are fast approaching both the physical and spiritual realms. I’m not sure how things will be for these spirits then, but I want to protect them and help them wake up and smell the coffee. They’re still my friends. – End of side note.

I meet my preschool teacher, a woman with short, dark hair.

She’s very happy to meet me, and makes me some tea. Not imaginary tea, but real tea. And we drink it. With our spiritual bodies. We sit down on the slope, using as our seats the soft tufts of grass underneath us – the most perfect nature-made chairs – and talk, while simultaneously sipping on our teas. I don’t remember what we talk about, but in order to give some insight to our meeting, I want to explain her significance to me: She played an important role in my life during my preschool years, functioning almost in the capacity of a surrogate mother. She was one of a group of four women, who all worked at my preschool, three of them, including her, as teachers, and one of them as a cook. In their own way all these four women helped me stay mentally afloat at a time period when my relationship to my own mother threatened to completely shatter me. It was a very dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship that denied me the support and appreciation that a normal, healthy relationship would provide. Through my interaction with these four women I received some of the affection that I so desperately needed, which helped me mend some of my emotional wounds. All of them appreciated some unique aspect of my personality that resonated with something that was unique in them – which was different for each one. It was like they complemented each other. I remember thinking back then that together, collectively, they formed the perfect mother. And so, in this collective way they all sowed their faith in me, putting the shattered pieces of me together during a developmentally crucial and vulnerable life stage, when the dysfunctional dynamic between my mom and I would’ve otherwise broken me. I don’t think any of these women quite knew how important they were to me, because I never told them, but they all allowed me to be a child at a time when I otherwise couldn’t.

I’ll always remain thankful to them for that.

I meet my sister’s life partner.

It’s Christ who introduces us. Initially we both feel a bit shy, but later, when the ice breaks, we start joking around and become more comfortable with each other. I remember seeing him standing before me on the slope with his mom, dad and sister watching us in the background. Especially his mom shows strong interest in our interaction; she peeks at me curiously from behind his back. Perhaps there are other spirits from his family there too, but I’m not sure, since I only remember these three. All I know is that he’s surrounded by his closest people, his spiritual family that he has created bonds with, both on earth and in eternity. What I want to tell you about my sister’s boyfriend is that I’ve always gotten along with him well, more so than with most people. There’s always been a certain connection, a good, friendly brother and sister relationship based on mutual respect, with the majority of its strength coming from a similar sense of humor.

I meet my half-brother and -sister from my dad’s second marriage. They stand next to each other when I meet them. They’re holding hands. Again, Christ is the one introducing us, and remains by our side throughout our entire discussion, surrounding us with His light. In appearance, my sister and brother remind me a bit of twins, although on earth they’re actually five years apart. I don’t know what we talk about at all, I only remember them appearing a bit shy when Christ explains to them something about me. What that something is, I don’t know. What I can say about my experience about them is that in adulthood we haven’t been very close. There’s no animosity at all, but life circumstances have placed a natural distance between us.

Again Christ leaves to take care of some other business.

This is when someone tells me: “Someone’s looking for you.”

It’s the same messenger/messengers that first approached me somewhere in outer space, in the beginning of my memory. These messengers lead me farther away, far off to the left slopes of the valley, and ask me to wait there while they go and get him. Soon after, that someone is brought to me: It’s my son, my sensitive little son, whom I love more than my own life! We embrace and talk for a while. I know that I’ve met him before, that we know each other well in the spirit world, and that our bond stretches far off to the distant eternity. I have a strong sense that there’ve been past lives when we’ve connected before, but I have no memory of them and what the setup has looked like – whether I’ve played the part of his mother, or not. My feeling however is that in the past it’s been different. For example, we might’ve been born as siblings. Either way, in this upcoming life I’ll be his mother, and I know that I'll be very important for his spiritual development, and he'll be important to mine.

As we talk, we’re surrounded by the messengers that have reunited us. They keep listening to our conversation on the sidelines, sometimes jumping in with a comment or two whenever we need clarification on some concept or future task. We know that they’re here for our support and that they’ll be around us during our entire lifetimes. Something tells me that at least one of them is what people would call a "guardian angel,” whose job is to help us from the spirit world's side while we’re on earth. This guardian angel is specifically assigned to both my son and me. It has this split mission. I don’t think that this guardian angel is the only guardian angel assigned to me, because I get the sense that there are more than one, but I remember that this specific one will focus on some mission that has specifically something to do with my son and me.

Note: I do want to point out that I have two sons, but only remember meeting this one. I don’t know why.

Past Lives

         Soon after this, I say goodbye to my son, and follow Christ, who’s appeared again, and is now leading me aside to discuss my future mission in more detail. At this point I’m starting to feel a bit anxious, because I already know that my mission on earth won’t be easy. Christ consoles me, reminding me that it won’t be long before I’m home again in the spirit world. He emphasizes how incredibly fast time will go by on earth. I know He’s right. As we observe my future life from the spirit world’s perspective my years on earth don’t seem to last long at all, as the concept of time is perceived completely different here. What on earth seems like a very long time is here just a blink of an eye.

         “Yeah, but it won’t feel like a short time!” I grumble. “Down there it’ll feel like a small eternity!” 

         He smiles, and continues to assure me that I’ll be okay in His calm, wise way, always sprinkling His words with His disarming humor. He’s not worried. He knows that I’ll go through my usual whining and complaining, but when I’ve gotten it out of my system, and when it really comes down to it, I’ll still go on my mission trip and follow all His directions.

As we discuss my future life in more detail, Christ occasionally makes references to some of my past lives, but I don’t know what He says about them. I have no memory of what they’ve looked like, who I’ve been, when or where, but there’s a constant awareness that I’ve lived before under other types of circumstances. I know that those lives have come with certain consequences, both good and bad, and that those consequences now affect my upcoming life. It’s like there’s a spiritual bank account with my name on it. On this bank account there’s debt to be paid, but also credit in store – blessings that I’ve saved up thanks to the many good choices I’ve made. I can actually see this information visualize before me as Christ and I discuss it. It appears before us on the sky in the form of some peculiar looking spiritual imprints that represent the map of my destiny. To describe them; they resemble slightly blood veins, or some type of star constellations, or DNA, or even ink blots. Yet none of these at the same time. They keep moving, forever changing before our eyes, forming shimmering intricate networks. I know that these “imprints,” are what some people would call karma. They’re the “building blocks” of my future life that will determine what elements that future will consist of. I also know that my choices in life will have a huge impact on these building blocks and can completely wipe out many of them.

We discuss how in some previous lives I’ve made some serious mistakes, with one of them being the act of committing suicide. On my karma map we can see how this act still weighs heavily on me, existing there in the form of some very dark imprints. Regardless of considering myself a highly developed spirit, and having successfully conquered many of my past issues, I still haven’t been able to wipe out these dark stains. I know that I’ll have to deal with them head on in my future life. The impression I get is that there’s even a small chance that I’ll repeat my past mistake and commit suicide again, and that this possibility poses the greatest threat to my mission. It’s the way the enemy, the devil and his angels have planned to stop me from fulfilling my God-given destiny. As mentioned earlier, the issue of suicide has been a very real struggle in my life, most acutely affecting me from ages fifteen up to about age twenty-two, before I found Jesus and was able to make peace with myself. Although my life has still been extremely difficult after finding my faith, I have no longer seriously considered suicide after that time.

As we continue studying my karma map I’m again struck by the level of difficulty that I’ll have to face in my upcoming life. It seems so extreme that it scares me. I can see how partly the reason for these difficulties is my own doing and is caused by my own mistakes. But I can also see how there’s resistance and heartbreak coming my way through reasons that I have not created, such as some people’s negative choices that set in motion chain reactions that end up unnecessarily hurting me. I can also see how some of my future struggles are directly caused by my choice to follow God. This is something an individual must always pay a price for, as the enemy will fiercely attack anyone who makes that commitment. It’s part of my suffering for Christ.

When we watch these future events unfold, I always remember seeing them through some kind of hologram. I keep calling these things holograms, because I don’t know how else to name the “live images” I see. It may sound like a science fiction movie, but what I remember, is having some type of screen placed before me. Not a flat one, like a TV, or even a 3D movie screen, but more complete, and containing infinitely more information. What I mean is, you can walk inside of it and get all the information of the entire event from every possible angle, including all of your senses. You also get all the background information relevant to the event. You’ll know what other people are feeling and what their motives are. You’ll see their lives and struggles, and what their relationship to the events around you are, their part in it. You’ll see what led to the events and where they’re potentially going.

And all of this abundant information you’ll absorb in a blink of an eye.

As I watch the bits and pieces of my life unfold before me I understand that the events I see are not set in stone, except in some specific areas. There are various paths for me to take. Not all of them are beneficial to me. I watch these paths spread before me like a network of spider webs and know that my choices will ultimately determine my success. In other words, thanks to free will I will be the one carving out my future in both good and bad ways; I will be the one creating many of my problems and blessings. I can also see how in some cases all paths invariably lead to the same end result, regardless of my actions. This is because some incidents are already predetermined, and no matter what I choose to do, these things will always end up being part of my destiny.

Somewhere along my life I can see a time period arrive when all my sufferings come to a head. This is the peak moment of my journey, the climax of my life when I must face my fears and my greatest demons. I can no longer run away from them. I believe that this moment has something to do with letting go of the comfort of secrecy and openly exposing my true identity. I remember watching these challenges, and whatever they are, thinking that they’re so big, and that the suffering is so crushing that I can’t see how anyone could survive it. 

         Christ tells me that I have a choice. 

         He tells me that suffer I must, but that I can choose in what form to face that suffering; through a fairly short, but extremely intense time of suffering, or through a longer time period, where the sharpest peaks of pain have been flattened down and made milder, but causing the overall experience to last longer. Although the suffering in the latter option makes the experience less terrifying during peak times, the amount of suffering still remains the same as in the shorter version if you weighed the two on a scale. I’ve often thought about this choice, and compared it to the Bible passage where God asked David through the mouth of the prophet Gad to choose his punishment between three years of famine, three months of war, or three days of plague in his country (2 Sam. 24:13 and 1 Chron. 21:9). The way I see it, in my memory Christ presents me with a similar choice.

         “Do you want the short, very intense suffering, or the milder, longer version?” He asks.

         I study the two options before me. As I observe the very intense, shorter version I’m convinced that the peak times of suffering in it are so violent and horrific that it would be impossible for any human being to survive it. I point that out to Christ, who insists that I would be able to handle it. But I explain to Him that my fear is that if I chose that option I might succumb to the despair and repeat my past mistake of suicide. For this reason, I opt for the milder, longer version of suffering. 

Without exaggeration I can testify that my life has been exactly that – a long walk in a desert of relentless suffering.

The Burning Forest

After choosing my suffering Christ tells me that there’s something very important that I need to do before I can be born. It’s a test that will prepare me for my future trials. He explains that it’s crucial for me to undergo this test now, in the spirit realm, because if I don’t pass the test here, I won’t be able to pass it on earth. I will fail. He tells me that this test will be the spirit version of what I’ll have to endure in the physical realm, and that its outcome will determine my victory on earth. This is because nothing can ever manifest itself in the physical realm without having been established in the spirit realm first. This is a spiritual rule. Every battle must always be won here first, and no victory can ever be gained in the physical unless it’s achieved in the spirit world first. I know that this test will be extremely difficult and take every bit of strength and courage that I have. I also know that since the outcome of it will be set in eternity, the results cannot be taken lightly. Although physical pain is not experienced in the spirit world in the same way that it’s experienced on earth, you can still experience extreme pain and suffering equal to that on earth, or perhaps worse. And although physical death doesn’t exist here, the moments of terror are just as real and serious as on earth, and the stakes just as high — if not higher – since the consequences are eternal. As with anything else here, I know that I can always refuse the test. The choice is mine. But since I know that the issues inside of me that this test will address will not disappear any other way, I don’t even consider that option. I know what the spiritual consequences of my refusal would mean – just postponing the inevitable, as these trials and sufferings will chase me until I face them and grow from them.

Because a lesson unlearned is a lesson returned.

As soon as I’ve told Christ about my decision He leads me to the entrance of a burning forest. He tells me that we’ll meet again on the other side of it when I’m done walking through it and have finished my test. He explains that I won’t remember anything about my experience afterwards, and that while in the forest, I’ll feel alone and deserted. Yet He promises to be with me in there too, walking right by my side, every step of the way, even though I won’t be able to see Him or sense Him around me.

“I’ll always be with you. I’ll never leave.”

As promised, I have no memories of my walk through this forest, not a single recollection of the sufferings experienced there. Everything has been completely wiped out from my memory bank. I only remember standing at the entrance of the forest saying goodbye to Christ, and then exiting on the other side from underneath a canopy of shady pines – right into His arms. And when exiting, doing it with a sense of victory: I know I’ve passed my test.

My Mission

In the next image I’m standing with Christ in the valley somewhere close to the area where I’ve met my son, but further away towards the back mountain range. We’re still continuing with our private conversation. I don’t know if the other human spirits in the valley can see us, because somehow, while still in the valley, we’re also simultaneously transported to outer space, and are now suddenly standing on top of the planet Earth – or an image of it –looking down at various events taking place on its surface. I can see networks of light streams shooting off in all directions, all across the globe, representing chain reactions of events taking place there. While I don’t have the slightest idea of what those events are now, in my memory I know exactly what they are, in detail, and have a strong certainty of them being very important and having to do with something crucial going on with the human race.

Next Christ shows me my role in the midst of these events, and how my life’s mission will affect the unfolding of them.


I can see that my role in the development of these events is quite central. Uncomfortably central.

“Hold on.”

 I don’t like what I see. I don’t like it at all.

“You mean to tell me that these, these and these events” – I point frantically around the globe – “are directly dependent on MY successful fulfillment of my mission?!”

The look on His face is peaceful and undisturbed. And slightly amused.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” His eyes twinkle.

I freeze. I panic.

“Hey wait! Stop everything! That’s a lot of responsibility on one person!”

“You can handle it.”

“No, I can’t!”

         He’s looking around, because we have an audience now. There are angels in the background having lively discussions with one another about the events and my reactions to them, making comments to each other, and to me, about our conversation. I don’t remember what is said, as the memory is blurry, but I know that this conversation goes on for a long time and is an even worse rope-pulling match than the one about my body.

“You’re sure about this?!”


“But what if I fail?” I moan, offering Him a plethora of reasons why, with the main reason being the chance of me committing suicide again. I show Him different paths on the surface of the globe leading to dead ends due to my failure.

“You won’t fail.” He seems dead sure about this.

“You can do it. You’re very strong.”

But I disagree, violently.

He becomes very solemn. His eyes peer into me, as if scanning for something deep in there, in order to tease it out.

“Listen. You’re very, very strong. You don’t know how strong you are.”


“You’re very strong.” He repeats. “You have no idea,” He shakes His head, “no idea. You don’t know your own strength.”

“But…” I try to process it. “You’re telling me that all these events that You’ve showed me can’t happen if I don’t stick around and do these things? Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

 “But is there a plan B?!” I wail. “If I fail anyway? If I end up committing suicide, because you know that there’s that chance! Tell me that there’s a plan B, because this is heavy duty stuff that You’re showing me! Tell me there is one!”

“There won’t be a need for one,” He states firmly. “You’re very, very strong.”

But I keep insisting, pleading for it, determined not to stop without a different response.

“Well…there’s something,” He finally relents, hesitant. “You could call it a plan B. It’s not really a plan B but… Just another way. – But,” He adds, “it won’t be necessary!”

And He shows me. Reluctantly. We turn to look at the globe again, and this time He shows me some other woman emerging on its surface, specifically a woman, this time somewhere close to Russia or near that part of the world, playing a similar role to mine, working with a network of people achieving similar results to what I’ve seen myself achieve.

“But it won’t be as good as the original plan,” He adds.

I don’t care. This makes me feel much better. My shoulders relax. I feel myself loosen up.

 “Like I said, it won’t be needed, because you won’t fail. You’re very, very strong.”

But still I doubt Him. And ask Him why He chose me for this mission, and not someone else.

“I chose you because of who you are.”

And He shows me. That one particular quality in me that makes me so useful to Him. That makes up for all my other issues, the whining and complaining, and the stubbornness – and the rest of it. None of those things bother Him. They really don’t matter much at all, because He sees that one thing in me that He can use. It shines at Him like a tiny pearl in a dusty haystack.

It has to do with my honesty. And my relationship with the truth.

 I can’t resist it.

He shows me in various situations being faced with the choice of preserving my face and my reputation – or the truth. He shows me among a number of people, all of them presented with the same choice. And He show that all those people choose their reputation. While I choose differently – I choose the truth instead. And He likes that about me. I look at myself in those situations and recognize the choices. And remember why I ended up with them. It’s because of my deep distaste of the compromise – the lie – that the other choices require me to accept. I can’t stand it. It’s like a slimy overcoat that I just can’t bring myself to wear. It’s such a bad fit. I scorn it. So I turn to the truth instead. And when I do – I no longer count the cost. Sometimes it takes a while, some significant battles, and lots of cajoling from Him – but still. I turn to the truth. Because it weighs too heavily on my scale, and its call is too seductive for my ears to dismiss. It always gets me in the end.

“That’s why,” He says.

“The truth always wins with you.”

The Man Under the Blue Tree

Somewhere on the right side of the valley, tucked away up on a tree covered hill resides a very special group of people. I meet several of them, spending a fair amount of time with each one individually. If I were to describe them, I would say that what they all have in common is a certain soulfulness and depth of thought. They’re all thinkers. And to some extent loners too – like me. Another common trait in them seems to be writing. These people are all writers.

Their impact on my life is profound.

The first one I meet sits under a blue tree when I arrive. I’m not sure if the actual tree is blue or if there’s just a bluish light cast over it, but the color blue dominates the scene. Perhaps the color blue has something to do with a certain melancholy associated with the man; I find him in deep thought, ruminating on something serious when I walk onto the scene. I’m immediately struck by his intelligence. He has a mind that can grasp concepts that go far beyond most people’s reach. He has his own specific area of genius that I wouldn’t dare to compete with.

I know him well, and am aware of a shared history between the two of us somewhere in the distant past.

In the spirit world we’re dear friends.

It’s a serious discussion that takes place between us. Very serious. I don’t know many details of it, except that it has something to do with identity. His and mine. We both share similar struggles with it, and our encounter on earth will provide us with an opportunity to address some of those struggles. I don’t know much about my impact on his life, as this information is kept strictly hidden from me – probably for my own protection. But what is highlighted is his impact on mine. That part is clear: He breaks my heart. Like a man breaks a woman’s heart. It’s the age-old saga.

We talk about it. I can actually see my pain spread before my feet in the shape of some kind of black mass. It’s very humiliating to look at, very hard. Like it’s never a proud moment to face your own shadow, your cross. It’s the dark night of the soul, a dissolving of your humanity, a landfill covered with rotting flesh and circling flies, that moment when your flesh burns and all your weaknesses come out into the open.

That moment when you die to the idea of yourself.

I point that out to him. How awful for me to see myself in such a lowered state, and for him to witness it too! He understands. And still we continue to watch the black mass before me in all its glory. We study it, recognize its roots, the internal programming that has choreographed the drama. It’s inside of me. I’m the author of it. He also plays a part due to his own dysfunctional patterns, his wounds, some kind of numbness to others, an emotional callousness, something dead. Due to these defects he is the perfect candidate to act out this drama with me. This is the agreement between us, our soul contract. I can see how important it is for me to go through this experience, as we both identify the seed buried in its belly, the potential gift that emerges on the other side of the pain: A more refined, less needy person. She emerges from the rubbish like a sunrise, pure and brilliant. This is the transformation that I desperately need, as I’ve carried my unhealthy attachment issues for a very long time, through many past lives. It’s a soul stain that has effectively prevented me from having any success in relationships, resulting in a chronically unhealthy behavior pattern. As long as this pattern remains, the door to the right man has stayed closed. By forcing me to face my soul stain the man opens the door, the potential for that other man – the one I’m supposed to be with – to come in.

That’s his gift to me.

But that’s not his only gift. The other one has something to do with his craft – writing. Because of his special talent he helps me refine my own voice. I very much need his help in this, as it allows me to communicate those things that God has given as my responsibilities. It has something to do with my main mission in life – whatever that is. I get the sense that my mission is connected to writing, and that writing serves as the vehicle that moves me forward to the fulfillment of my mission. Not that writing is my mission, but that writing is a tool that takes me there.

I talk to him about my life plan and the extreme suffering involved in it. I have a selfish belief that my suffering is the worst suffering of anyone’s, anywhere, anytime.

Which is probably my own inflated, narcissistic view of it – I’m a bit of a crybaby.

But I’m very adamant about it.

“No one,” I brag. “NO ONE has ever had to deal with the amount of suffering that I will have to deal with in one lifetime!”

In response to that the man shares something about his own life plan, which also involves a great deal of suffering. I can see certain areas of his life visualize before me, and note how those experiences are also very hard. There are some very challenging parts in it, some of them competing with my own struggles. I remember thinking that. There’s something very difficult coming his way that gives him great fear. He grabs hold of his throat and glances around him in despair.

“I’m not going to make it back here!”

My sense is that this battle has something to do with him facing his authentic self. And also, hand-in-hand, it is a battle for his immortal soul, which involves his faith – or the lack thereof.

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t. Don’t have it in me. I’m too weak. I won’t make it!”


I’m mad at him now.

We’re standing face to face in front of the blue tree. I have this moment so clearly in my mind, like it happened yesterday. It’s permanently burned in my brain; I can’t shake it.

“No. You listen to me.” My eyes peer into him, reach for him. “You listen to me! You and I will meet again. Right here. And we’ll sit down, right there, and we’ll talk this over. You understand? We’ll talk again! We’ll have another conversation, you and I, when you’re safely back here again. When we both are. We’ll talk again when all of this is over!”

But he’s afraid. “I don’t know about that. I don’t know...”

And that’s when I think: Sometimes another person can stand in the gap for a friend, when their friend loses their way. Sometimes someone else’s faith can make up the distance, when someone else lacks it. Like a bridge that crosses over a dark ravine.

“Then I’ll believe for you!”

I say that with the knowledge that in the end everyone makes those final decisions alone. And everyone takes those last steps into God’s arms alone.

But it’s not like I can’t do anything. I can do a lot. I am not powerless!

And I tell him so. I scream it at him. I scream so hard that the blue tree shivers.


And I get the sense that this is my gift to him. My mandate for his life.

The Man Under the Blue Tree

And now it’s just the two of us.

Christ and me, left standing in an empty space at the foot of the hills, in the bottom of the valley, close to the portal. The moment is fast approaching, is so close now, almost here. Soon I’ll begin my journey and get pulled down somewhere into the vast emptiness that opens up underneath me. In just a little bit, as soon as we’ve finished exchanging our goodbyes.

We’re facing each other in this empty space, and in it, I’m cradled by His peace. It keeps the emptiness at bay. It’s so good to be in it – and so terrifying not to be. Swirls of sadness, fear and doubt start stirring in me. I don’t want to go.

“What if I fail?”

His gaze is so still and peaceful. Nothing can shake it.

“You won’t fail.”

“But what if…” And here I am, at it again, giving Him my best and longest list of worst- case scenarios of everything that could go wrong, all the terrifying possibilities. There are so many. I keep coming up with new ones as I go. They come in endless streams, pouring out from an inexhaustible fountain of doubt and despair. With the scariest, most plausible possibility of all – suicide – always in the forefront, my biggest fear, my main nemesis. What if I succumb to its seductive call, when the attacks and pressure become too heavy for me to carry?

“I want you to listen to Me very carefully.”

His eyes have turned very serious. “I want you to take in each word, and let them all sink into your innermost parts. I want you to remember them when you’re down there. You hear? I want you to recall them, and this moment. It’s very important. More important than anything I’ve told you before.”


“I want you to focus on remembering them. Will you remember them? When you’re down there? In your physical body?”

“I’ll try…”

“Will you remember them?”

“Yes, I will remember them.”

And He speaks very slowly now, emphasizing each word:

“I want you to know that you can trust Me.

“That I’m able, fully capable of taking care of you. No matter what happens. No matter how bad it feels, how bad it appears in the physical. That fear –all it is, is smoke and mirrors, an illusion – the devil’s trick. That’s what I want you to know. Because I’ve got you. Right inside My Hand. All the time. And you’re safe in there. Nothing. Nothing could ever happen to you that would be out of My reach. Because I can handle it. All of it. There are no surprises. Nothing in your future life that I haven’t taken into account, that I haven’t factored in. Understand? There’s not a thing for you to worry about when you trust Me. And you can fully trust Me to take care of you. You can fully trust Me. I say it again: You can fully trust Me. That’s what I want you to know. That you can trust Me. No matter how bad it feels at the moment, no matter how hopeless or scary, how bad things appear to the visible eye. Even when you don’t feel Me around. Even when you think you’re alone. You’re not. Because I’ll be there. You’re not alone, I’ve got you. That’s what I want you to focus on when you’re down there.”


I consider it. Really trying to let it sink in. Really trying to let go of the worry and allowing the faith to fill me. Just trust.

“Yes. Go on. Let them sink in. Eat them. Eat the words: ‘You can fully trust Me.’”

“Okay, okay, okay…”

We talk a bit more. And I don’t know about what, but before you know it, I’m back at the worrying again. The worst-case scenarios slip in, just automatically along with the conversation, very unintentionally without me even realizing it. It’s like an old, comfortable coat that I’m used to putting on without even thinking. Soon I’m pointing out more examples of what could happen if things go wrong after all, and what then, just in case they do?

But He shushes me, mid-talk. He actually interrupts me, not allowing me to finish my sentence.


And then He repeats it again, very slowly, and very intentionally:

“I want you to know that you can FULLY trust Me.”

That stops me right in my tracks.

“Okay, then” I whisper. “Okay. Okay…”

And I say no more. And I try, really try to let it sink in, to eat the words, swallow them and keep them in. It’s so hard, but I try to hold them in, let them penetrate my innermost being, so they’ll never, never leave, all that trust and faith that He wants me to have. That no matter what happens, no matter how difficult it gets, how terrifying and awful and lonely, that still I can trust Him to rescue me from it, and be safe in His Hand.

“Have faith!” His eyes burn brightly at me.

And then it’s time to go. So soon!

I feel myself starting to descend downward. Away from Him. He’s left standing on the platform in the empty space as the distance between us grows. I see Him looking down at me, radiating such love, while I keep descending further and further away from Him, watching Him become smaller and smaller, as the distance between us grows bigger and bigger.

And I’m allowing it to happen! I don’t want to, but I let it. Reluctantly, I let myself move closer and closer to my harsh destination — the earth — where I’ll soon slip into my physical body.

But still I keep calling out to Him through the growing distance between us:

“I’m doing this for You! I’m doing this for You! I’m doing this for You!”

I call it out, and while doing it, I think, what a silly thing to say. Because really – we both know that I’m actually doing this for myself. Like everyone here. Because I have to do this. I have to face my problems, and this is the only way out, and there is no other way. But I say it anyway, because I need to say it, and because – it’s also true – He is the reason why I’m able to take this tremendous risk.

It’s all Him.

And I know that He completely understands my meaning.

That I choose this life because I want Him to know that I love Him.