Pre-birth memory

My Pre-Birth Memory of Heaven

Foreword:

I have a memory of Heaven.

It's from a time before I was born into this world—from a reality I can only describe as a pre-birth existence.

I’ve carried this memory inside me since my twenties, for over thirty years now. 

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

It's as clear as my first day of school or something I did yesterday.

It's not a dream.

I remember it the same way I remember any other past experience, any other early childhood memory. Only this one reaches further back.

In my memory, I'm preparing for a long journey. I know that I will soon leave Heaven—or the spirit world—and be born into the physical world, and the life that I now have.

In this spirit world, I interact with many beings, or spirits. Some I know, while others I’m meeting for the first time. We discuss the life we'll soon experience on earth and the connections we'll form with each other. 

At the center of the memory is Jesus Christ, whom I know to be God.  He guides me, shows me things that exist in other spiritual realms, explains spiritual matters, and prepares me for what I'm about to encounter.

Some of our conversations pertain to past lives that I do not remember, yet somehow know I’ve experienced. There's simply an awareness of their existence. Jesus and I discuss the consequences of my actions in these past lives and how this life has the potential to set them right.

In some religions, such as Buddhism and Hinduism, this concept is called karma.

As a Christian, I know that the ideas of a pre-birth existence, past lives, and karma do not align with mainstream Christian doctrine and contradict centuries of Christian tradition. I also know that some Christians would dismiss my experiences without a second thought, concluding that experiences like this must automatically originate from deceiving spirits masquerading as beings of light.

A few words about that:

I've prayed about this for years. Knowing the Christian mindset, I've shied away from speaking openly about my memory. In my prayers, I've repeatedly asked God to reveal if my pre-birth memory is real, my own imagination, or worse, some form of deception. I've tested the spirits for years by asking God to show me if my memory is false. I'm fully aware of, and believe the scripture that states:

"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" (1 John 4:1).

Despite all the years of prayer, I've never received anything indicating that my memory was false. On the contrary, my memory has only grown, with more details added to it throughout my life. I've only received what seems to confirm the memory.

For example, years ago, while actively praying about this, I walked into a bookstore, Barnes and Noble, where one of the books on display was Memories of Heaven: Children's Astounding Recollections of the Time Before They Came to Earth by Wayne W. Dyer and Dee Garnes. I bought the book, read it, and recalled another scripture:

"Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger." (Psalm 8:2 NIV)

And:

"At that time Jesus said, 'I praise you, Father, Lord of heavens and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to the little children.'" (Matthew 11:25 NIV)

Another scripture that always stood out to me is this scripture from the book of Jeremiah:

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations." (Jeremiah 1:5 NIV)

Since God knew Jeremiah BEFORE he was formed in the womb, before conception, this scripture in particular seems to support the idea of a pre-birth existence.

I've also considered the scriptures in the book of Daniel that speak about knowledge and understanding expanding over time:

"But you, Daniel, roll up and seal the words of the scroll until the time of the end. Many will go here and there to increase knowledge." (Daniel 12:4 NIV)

The angel who spoke to Daniel about end-time events continued with:

"Go your way, Daniel, because the words are closed up and sealed until the time of the end. Many will be purified, made spotless and refined, but the wicked will continue to be wicked. None of the wicked will understand, but those who are wise will understand." (Daniel 12:9)

Considering the volume of near-death experiences and now even some pre-birth memories emerging on YouTube and other online platforms, I ask all Christians:

Is it possible that the knowledge the angel was referring to has now increased to the point where humanity is ready for the scroll in the book of Daniel to be opened, and these truths be revealed?

As I was scrolling through YouTube, I stumbled upon a pre-birth memory that truly struck a chord with me:

Aaron Green's Near-Death Experience and Pre-Birth Memory.

There are numerous other examples, but I chose this one because it's exceptionally detailed and contains elements that truly resonate with me, reminding me of my own memories.

There’s another Near Death Experience (NDE) I’d like to mention; the first NDE experience I ever read. I was 19 when I read it, going through some of the most challenging experiences of my life. I was suicidal. In many ways, the book saved me.

The book, Embraced by the Light by Beatty J. Eadie, describes the classic Near Death Experience of floating through a tunnel toward a bright light. On the other side of the light, Eadie meets Jesus Christ—the source of that light. She is given a tour of Heaven, or the spirit world, with Christ as her guide. He explains, in very practical terms, how the spirit world works: why we’re born into such unequal circumstances, why some people must live with severe disabilities while others enjoy lifetimes of good health and prosperity, and why so many religions exist and what purpose they serve.

Christ also explains how the physical and spiritual realms operate and interact, along with various aspects of faith and spiritual laws.

At the time I read Eadie’s book, the Heaven, or spirit world she described felt strangely familiar to me and made perfect sense. It brought me peace during my deep distress, offering me perspective and hope. Most importantly, it made me change my mind about suicide and turn my attention toward Jesus Christ, whom I later accepted as my Savior at the age of 22.

Shortly after reading Eadie's book, I began recalling fragments of my own pre-birth memories. Reading her book seems to have triggered those memories because her description of Heaven resonated so deeply with something already within me.

It started with random, fleeting images that gradually filled my mind as the days passed.  They surfaced when I least expected them. I began recalling strange events and conversations in otherworldly settings—places that felt eerily familiar, as though I had visited them only yesterday. They came from somewhere deep inside me, a place I somehow knew. No matter how faint the memories were or how vague their echoes, they felt genuine and convinced me of their authenticity.

If you're interested in Eadie's 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 on when I felt like giving up. They've given me patience and perspective during times of what I consider extreme human suffering. There have been days when I felt they kept me from losing my mind. I have no idea what I would've done without them.

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.

At the time the message comes, I'm in my house, located somewhere within a magical forest. My house reminds me of something from The Lord of the Rings. Green moss covers its roof, and it's built from natural materials—chiseled stone, wood, and glass. It's partly built into the landscape, the trees and the rock, and it's beautiful. My house stands in the midst of a village of dwellings within this forest. There are other beings around me, and we’re all extremely happy.

In the next image, I’m surrounded by stars. It reminds me of being in outer space, but within the spirit world. As I stand there, looking out into the stars, I reflect on my existence. I know that I have existed for a very long time, and that this is my true home. 

I'm in the company of messengers or guides. There are maybe three of them. I remember many sparkling colors around us. They swirl and glitter. I don’t know if these sparkling lights are stars or something else, but farther away, there’s a magnificent galaxy stretching as far as the eye can see. As I stand there admiring it, I think 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 I can go visit, with endless possibilities. 

I have a deep sense of dignity. I feel respect and love toward myself and others. I’m used to feeling this way all the time, like I matter. I know that others feel this way too, as love, respect, peace, and happiness are simply 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. I have no memory of what this spiritual body looks like, but I know that it's strong and youthful, despite having 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, it seems that I've been on vacation, sort of between jobs. 

When I’m told that there’s a message for me, I instantly know it’s a call for my next assignment.

As I stand communicating with my messengers about my upcoming assignment 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. I know they’re my very good friends—more 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 and learn something about our conversation. The reason I identify him as a human male is that I’ve met him on Earth, where he was one. When I met him, it was only once, and very briefly. Nothing significant happened—nothing that would’ve made him stand out. That’s why I find it so strange that I remember him as part of this meeting now. I have no idea how he’s relevant to any of it, but there he is, in our company in the spirit world, listening. He’s very happy. His comments are lighthearted and playful. 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, or soul group.

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

"What's the mission?"

Instead of revealing this information, the messengers assure me that the person I'm about to meet will tell me everything I need to know.

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

Teacher

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 well. I may know of Him. I may have heard of Him. But I don’t really know Him.

I don’t know why I don’t know Him. I only know that, at this point in my journey, I haven’t yet come to know Him. Looking back at this moment, I also feel as though part of His personality is veiled from me.

We sit side by side in outer space on a small celestial body, a small planet or perhaps a meteor, and gaze 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. Each answer strikes me as being the right and most perfect one.

We're not using words in our communication. Instead, all of our thoughts are transferred from mind to mind through some type of telepathic exchange. It’s effortless, and our thoughts flow very easily between us. The misunderstandings that so easily interfere with people’s communications on earth simply don’t exist here. We feel each other’s thoughts and emotions. We see them. Not only are ideas communicated completely, but so are the intentions behind them.

We talk about the many levels of the spirit world and the nature of the spirits existing on them. We talk about the spiritual laws governing these realms. I know that some spirits exist on very low vibrational planes, while others exist on very high ones. I know that these differences are connected to things such as a spirit's past choices, level of understanding, and spiritual advancement. We talk about how knowledge is freely accessible to all, but that each spirit’s ability or willingness to receive it is different. Some choose to grow quickly, others more slowly, and some choose not to grow at all.

I remember myself as an advanced spirit with a tremendous hunger for knowledge and an intense desire to grow. I admit that writing it makes me uncomfortable because it sounds boastful. But I choose to write it because it’s the memory I have. I get the sense that this is also one reason why I’m here, next to Christ, as His eager student. My desire to learn and grow has 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 and most authentic identity, and my relationship to others. Eternity is long, and I've traveled for a very long time, experiencing many things and forgetting others along the way.

Perhaps this is also connected to why I don’t know Christ at this point in the memory. I don’t know. Yet somewhere deep within me, I also have a faint sense that I actually know Him very well. That I've always known Him.

As I sit 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 how some spirits call Him the Redeemer. I’m not sure whether to believe it or not. A lot is said here. I've learned that everyone has an opinion about everything, but for me to discover the truth, I need to find it myself.

While I trust my instincts, I’m also very aware of my own limits. I know I don’t know everything and that I have blind spots that prevent me from seeing the full truth in some matters. I understand that about myself. So I remain open to all possibilities.

But as far as Christ's person is concerned, at that moment, I believe He's some kind of spiritual master. There are many highly developed spirits in the spirit world who guide and teach others. I remember comparing Christ to them, assuming He’s one of them. It seems like the most natural conclusion to me.

As I sit here, next to my teacher, I know that He's about to teach me valuable lessons about myself and the nature of reality. We talk about spiritual things, and throughout our conversation, I keep presenting my own theories about how things work. He confirms most of them before explaining them more fully. I remember how validated I feel whenever He confirms I’ve understood something correctly. I don’t remember when I last had a conversation like this. It feels incredibly profound and meaningful.

At this point 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 extraordinary 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.

As our conversation continues, I gradually come to understand that my time with Him is preparing me for an upcoming mission on earth. I learn that I'll have an opportunity to be born into a physical body. It also becomes clear that it’s critical for my growth that I go on this mission. I know it will help me advance to a higher spiritual ground. I sense that my many past missions and travels have prepared me for this next chapter of my journey. I get the sense that Christ is the one guiding this entire process. He isn’t merely advising me; He’s preparing me for what’s to come.

At some point, I bring up the question of hell.

“It’s not true, is it?" I ask.

"What some say? That some will be lost forever?”

I expect Christ to confirm my conclusion, just as He has confirmed so many of my other conclusions about reality. The idea of eternal damnation seems strange to me because, as I understand it, love and forgiveness always have the last word here. I also understand the necessity of second chances, since so many of us need time to find our way out of our spiritual dead ends. For this reason, I expect Christ to confirm my belief.

But He doesn’t.

Instead, He shows me something.

He opens a portal in front of us. I don’t know exactly how, but suddenly we’re looking down through many layers of worlds—or maybe spiritual planes—into a very low part of the spirit world—a kind of bottom level, almost like a cellar. Then, in an instant, we’re there, standing in the midst of it.

It’s a dark and hopeless place, a rough, deserted landscape with red dirt covering the ground. 

As we stand there, we see a creature crawl past us in the dirt. We see the creature, but it doesn’t see us—we’re invisible to it.

"Creature” is the only word that I can find for such an atrocious being. Somehow I know that, a very long time ago, it was something else. What’s left now is only a grotesque distortion of its former glory, a life-force that has lost all resemblance to a living being—an anti-life.

The sight of it is horrific, heartbreaking, and deeply disturbing. A perverted smirk remains fixed on its face as its muscular, animal-like body crawls and twitches across the red dirt. In a bizarre, backward way, it seems strangely pleased with itself, as if it exists in a permanent state of twisted delight. Yet nothing about it could be described as happiness. Whatever it feels is a grotesque corruption of joy.

I stand next to Christ, watching it in shock, realizing that I’m looking at the embodiment of pure evil.

A demon.

“I can’t reach him anymore,” Christ whispers. His eyes are filled with sorrow as He watches the snickering creature crawl past us.

I feel His heart break with every movement the creature makes.

“No!” I protest. “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 exclaim in shock.

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

Hope. It’s what I’ve always known to be part of the very nature of the spirit world. Anything else—I refuse to believe. It’s too much to take in. Too hard to accept.

“He didn’t want to come to me,” Christ whispers. “And I couldn’t change his mind. It was his decision. His choice. He didn’t want my love.”

“No,” I say. “No.”

It’s so hard for me to wrap my head around it. I struggle with it. I choke up, fighting it as if I were trying to swallow a boulder. It won’t go down. I can’t understand how any spirit could ever deliberately choose to turn away from the light. Into this? This absurd reality?

And for this to exist alongside the beauty and peace of the spirit world that I’ve come to know. To reject all of it?

And yet, there it is.

I’m watching it with my own eyes.

Confused and heartbroken, I watch it crawl past me, not wanting to see what I see, but unable to deny its existence. As I follow it with my eyes, I contemplate the significance of what I’m witnessing.

A deep sadness settles over me, a shadow permanently changing the landscape of my heart. It sends a cold wind through me, causing something within me to shift forever. It adds a layer of sorrow to all the light and beauty of the spirit world, making them more precious now that I know that they can be lost forever.

I’ll never be the same again. 

The Garden With the Long Grass

Now Christ leads me to a garden with a meadow in it. Like everything else, I remember the images of our surroundings only vaguely, as if through a fog. Maybe it’s because my focus is on the spiritual lessons rather than the details of the environment. But the few images that have stayed with me are those of long grass and wildflowers.

I also remember the emotional impact the place has on me. The wild, unkempt meadow, in all its simplicity, bulldozes me with beauty.

We wade through the grass in peaceful silence until we reach an old, wooden barn standing in the far corner of the meadow. Its weathered gray planks 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?

As I’m writing this, a thought occurs to me. I’ve never thought of this before. Could the barn somehow be the same barn where Christ was born in Bethlehem over two thousand years ago? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just my imagination.

My strongest impression, however, is that, in all its humble, worn-out simplicity, the barn somehow represents the highest expression of beauty and sacrifice.

Next, there’s a gap in my memory. I have no recollection of what happens inside the barn, as that part has been completely removed from my mind. I get the impression that it’s been removed on purpose. All that remains is a vague impression of turbulent waters. Somehow those waters represent an extreme level of suffering.

I’ve seen these rapids in my dreams before, as a child, and even then I sensed the suffering they carried. It felt separate from my own, yet somehow bleeding into it, almost as if the memory of Christ’s sufferings had been deposited within me and now lives there on a subconscious level.

The next image shows what happens 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's entailed, I've no idea. All I know is that it has something to do with His suffering and sacrifice for others, revealing His own journey and His complete surrender 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. Wherever He wants to send me, I will go. I will serve Him. I will follow Him.

I tell Him through tears, barely able to see or to speak. I’m undone. Holding my chest, I’m wounded by His beauty, feeling deeply privileged to be in His company.

Nothing I’ve ever experienced compares to what I’ve just witnessed. His bravery. His integrity. His beauty.

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 He’s not just my spiritual brother and my best friend.

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 — slightly off-putting.

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. Besides, 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. 

There’s an amused glimpse in the corner of His eye when I say it.

"No she's not," He chuckles, kind of like: “Oh come on!”

In truth, it’s nothing terrible. She's really not that bad, but maybe a bit of a plain Jane, pale and colorless, with thin mousy hair and an average body.

But she’s not living up to my expectations, because I'm slightly 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 a 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 fantastic 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 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 allow me to overcome this soul issue. And to be more exact, it’s actually what my own soul has ordered, since the problem is there.

Although my complaints are mixed with humor, I feel really worried and disappointed about my future in this body. I can see the medical issues it comes with, the 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 past lives where I have been fairly attractive. Although I don’t remember any of them now, I'm used to being beautiful. On top of it, in the spirit world, whatever I look like there,  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 be the case, it’s a hard pill for me to swallow. But swallow I must. I know that 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, I know that the wisest thing to do is to obey His directions. So I agree to this body.

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 to accomplish your earthly mission. 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 to make myself feel better about my looks. He refers to makeup and stuff like that, showing me snippets of my life in the hologram, where I see myself fixing myself up in different  ways, people in our society do. It’s not that He’s advising me to wear makeup. In fact, He might even prefer me without it (although I don't think He cares much one way or the other). But what I remember is that He shows me, with no judgment whatsoever, how wearing make-up is something I will do to feel more confident about myself.  He shows me these images to help 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. But I remember pointing out to Christ that at that time, I no longer thought I looked as bad as I did before, but in fact, quite attractive. I’m pretty excited about it. He just nods and smiles. I get the impression that my looks are 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. 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: While writing this, the phrase “valley of decision” kept popping up in my mind. I’ve read this phrase before in the Bible and remembered wondering if my valley was the same one spoken of there. Since I didn't remember the exact scripture I googled it. This is what showed up:

“Multitudes, multitudes, in the valley of decision! For the day of the LORD is near in the valley of decision.” (Joel 3:14 NIV)

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 would only make matters worse. So I accepted the suffering with long teeth. (No pun intended)

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 day looming somewhere on the horizon as I walk around its 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, who 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 make 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 with deep concern. I feel that these spirits are not ready or willing to develop and grow. I try to share with them my experiences with Jesus and what He has revealed to 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 “nutcase,” 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 talked about, but in order to give some insight into 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, were teachers, and one was a cook. In their own way, all these four women helped me stay sane at a time when my relationship to my own mother threatened to shatter me completely. It was a 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 me 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 a 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 stemming 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 He 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 our discussion consists of 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 with 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, at 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 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, and even our genders might have been different. 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 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 is more than one, but I remember that this specific one will focus on a mission that has something specific to do with my son and me.

Note: I do want to point out that I have two sons, but I 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 Christ and was able to make peace with myself. Although my life has still been extremely difficult after finding my faith, I 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 a screen placed before me, not like a TV screen, but something more complete, containing infinitely more information. What I mean is, you can walk inside of it and get all the information about 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 is, 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 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. 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 I have to suffer, but that I can choose in what form I want to face that suffering; through a relatively 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 remains the same as in the shorter version if you weigh 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 I fear 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 spiritual 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:

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 will 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. 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, on top of it. 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.

“Wait," I say.

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.

“Do you mean 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, undisturbed, and slightly amused.

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

I freeze. I panic.

“No, wait! Stop everything! That’s a lot of responsibility on one person!”

“You can handle it.”

“No, I can’t!”

He looks 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?!”

“Yes.”

“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, to tease it out.

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

Silence.

“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, all 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, and finally, he hesitantly relents and tells me that there is something you could call a plan B. He tells me that it's not really a plan B, 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 another 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 have my doubts. I 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 the one particular quality in me that makes me so valuable 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 bothers 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 the truth.

He shows me in various situations being faced with the choice of preserving my face and reputation, or the truth. He shows me among several people, all of them presented with the same choice. And he shows all of those people choosing their reputation, while I choose differently; I prefer the truth instead. 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 profound distaste for the compromise – the lie – that the other decisions require me to accept. I can’t stand it. It’s like a slimy overcoat that I 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, sometimes there are 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 is the writer, Hermann Hesse, the German, Nobel winning author who lived from 1877 - 1962. 

He 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.

We speak about his impact on my life, which is significant especially during my youth, when I go through my struggles with loneliness and battle my feelings of a certain intellectual isolation. His work helps me through this time period and helps me feel less alone in the world. We speak about identity, which is something this man struggles with throughout his life. His writing deals to large degree with that struggle, and by reading his writing, he helps me deal with my own.

I remember his smile and his genuine happiness to be able to help me. I remember the light of his smile, which has a rare purity and honesty about it. He's happy to knows that he can do this for me.

Next, I remember meeting another man, who possesses similar qualities to Hesse. We're still under the bluish trees, and this man appears after the first one, the German writer has gone. 

I know him well, and I am aware of a shared history between the two of us somewhere in the distant past. We may have been relatives in past lives or something else, but I'm not exactly sure what our past ties have been.

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. In my life of earth I will have romantic feelings for this man and he ends up breaking 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 our feet in the shape of some kind of black mass. It’s very hard to watch, very humiliating. 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 nods in understanding. 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 with 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 person has stayed closed. By forcing me to face my soul stain the man opens the door, the potential for that other person – the one I’m supposed to be with – to enter.

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 view of it – I’m a bit of a crybaby.

But I’m adamant about it.

“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!” He screams.

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

“Yes, you will,” I say.

But he doesn't believe me. "I’m too weak," he says. "I won’t make it!”

"No!" I scream, "no!" 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 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. 

“THEN I’LL PRAY YOU BACK HERE!”

And I get the sense that this is my gift to him. 

My Birth

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.”

“Okay.”

“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 have you, right there, in 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 have you. That’s what I want you to focus on when you’re down there.”

“Okay.”

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.

“No.”

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, I can still 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 into a vortex behind me, away from Him. He’s left standing on the edge of it in the 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.