I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body I do not know—God knows. And I know that this man—whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know, but God knows— was caught up to paradise. He heard inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell (2 Cor 12:2-4).  

After the accident that took Jake’s life, his older brother, Garrett, spent five days in Children’s Hospital recuperating from his injuries. He suffered multiple lacerations to his legs and a hairline fracture to his jaw. I fed him juices with a baby eyedropper because his jaw was so swollen he couldn’t get his mouth around a straw. Garrett was brave. Not once did he complain. He refused pain medication and I never saw him cry.

     Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Garrett about Jake. How do you tell a five-year old that his little brother died in the same accident in which he survived? What kind of words could soften such a blow? I hoped that when Garrett was ready to talk about the accident, he would ask about Jake. Four days later, he still hadn’t brought up the subject.

     My fiancé was concerned. “Christy,” John began. “I know you’ve been waiting for Garrett to ask about Jake, but it looks like he’s going to be released from the hospital tomorrow. You’ll have to take him shopping to get something to wear to the funeral. Do you want me to talk to him?”

     I couldn’t squelch the crisis any longer and I knew that Garrett should hear the news from me. “No thanks, Babe. This is something I have to do myself.”

     Garrett’s face brightened as I entered his room. “Hi, Mommy. Look! Bruce brought me some more stuffed animals. And the Transformer I wanted, Optimus Prime.”

     “That’s nice, Honey,” I said, trying to smile. I mustered all the courage I could, but sitting beside his bed, darkness slithered over my heart like the nightfall outside. “Garrett…” I stalled to take another breath.

     “Yeah, Mom?”

     “What would you say…” I held my breath. My body was suddenly paralyzed. “It’s Jake... Jake didn’t make it.” Tears streamed down my face as I waited for his response.

     “Mom, I already know.”

     You already know? My jaw fell to my chest. “What do you mean, ‘You already know?’”

     “After the accident, I got to go to heaven with Jake." Garrett swooped Optimus Prime into the air, making a gun sound as he shot at his invisible enemy, Megatron. "Jake got to go in but God told me it wasn’t my time.”

     Suddenly I was on the edge of my seat. I had never known anyone who had been to heaven before. “What was heaven like?”

     “Mommy!” Garrett’s eyes squinted with apparent irritation. He set his Transformer down as a bewildered look spread across his face. “Mommy! I can’t tell you that.”

     “Why not?” I insisted.

     “It’s a surprise.”

     With one remark, he nearly extinguished all my excitement. I paused just long enough for my next statement to sound like I gave it the appropriate consideration. “It’s okay if you tell me. God won’t mind. I’m your mother.”

     “No, Mommy, I can’t!”

     “Why not?”

     “Cuz. God told me it’s a secret.”

     In his manner-of-fact demeanor, Garrett sighed in disbelief that I still didn’t understand.  He went back to playing with Optimus Prime while I sat back in my chair flabbergasted.  

     He sure picked a good time to start keeping secrets. In the past he flunked confidentiality, but now his lips were locked.

     In the days and weeks following his release from the hospital, I tried to squeeze more info out of Garrett, but his lips wouldn’t budge. While he never uttered another clue, I began to notice his mantle of peace. Garrett spoke at Jake’s funeral in front of hundreds of attendees. He let me hold the mic and he told his story about how he escorted his little brother to heaven.

     In the weeks following the funeral, his conduct continued to be unwavering. While his childlike trust amazed me, I fought skepticism. Did Garrett really take a trip to heaven or was his story a figment of his five-year old imagination? Preschoolers can make up some enchanting stories.

     If it was make-believe, however, it worked for him. He didn’t grieve like the grief recovery books that well-meaning friends had given me predicted. He never had a nightmare about the accident.  And even though his biological father received a deferred sentence for negligent homicide, Garrett held no bitterness towards his dad.  Even so, I pried and pried to get him to open up about his trip to heaven. It never worked.

     Until I found the reason.

     About nine months after the accident, I was reading in the book of 2^nd Corinthians where the Apostle Paul detailed a similar experience. He talked about “this man” that was caught up in the “third heaven”.  He was actually referring to himself. Paul went on to say that he didn’t know if he was “in the body” or “out of the body”, but he was caught up in paradise. In verse four, Paul states that while he was in heaven, he heard inexpressible things—things that man was not permitted to tell.

     What Paul experienced was a secret.

     I lingered over the verses for a moment. What Garrett saw, he wasn't permitted to tell. That’s why he never brought up Jake’s death in the hospital. I closed my Bible. As the pages fluttered together, my doubts finally vanished. No more would I try to pry open Garrett’s soul for full disclosure. Paul experienced a divine presence and was banished to secrecy. So was Garrett.

     Who was I to contend with a divine mystery?

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    I grew up in the 70’s. Well…let me rephrase that. Since I’m not sure that I’ve actually grown up yet, I’ll put it this way—I entered junior high in the 70’s. Back then, I dreamed of being a designer and was always making something. In the seventh grade I had a collection of 60 beaded chokers that I had created. More is better, right?

    Soon after my beaded choker phase, my design capabilities advanced when I became fascinated with my mother’s Kenmore sewing machine. I wish I had a picture of the amazing already-faded denim skirt with the western yoke and ladybug buttons I made in ninth grade. I’ll never forget the first day I wore it to school.

    I was out at recess at Western Oaks Junior High. Of course, ninth graders didn’t go out on the playground. We were too cool for that. Instead, we gathered out back on the blacktop. When the girls saw my skirt, the oos and awes began.

    “Where did you get your skirt?” my envious girlfriends wanted to know.

    Beaming, I announced, “I made it.”

    “Really? Will you make me one?”

    “If you get me the fabric.”

    “Where did you get jean material like that?”

    “I cut up a few pairs of my brother’s old blue jeans. I saw a pile headed to the Goodwill. I couldn’t let my mom be guilty of such a crime.”

    For those of you that were born after the age of cardboard denim, you might not be able to comprehend why the worn out stack of jeans was such a treasure. Back in the 70’s faded denim was an extravagance only achieved after months of continual wear. I didn’t have a closet full of a variety of jeans. No, I washed and wore the same pair EVERYDAY until they finally faded and looked stylish. But there was one small problem. By the time they did look good, they no longer fit. Because while my jeans were shrinking and fading, my butt was campaigning for expansion.    

    I remember lying down on my bed just to get the zipper up and then doing squats to loosen the seat so I would be prepared for strenuous tasks…like sitting. Denim and fashion—such a vicious cycle. Kind of like my dreams.

    Back in the day, I dreamed of being the next Calvin Klein but by the time I got to college, my bankrupt self-confidence talked me out of pursuing my dreams. I opted for a prudent degree—one in Business Finance. Not much of a risk taker, it took me a long time to realize that dreams and desires don't go away because we decide to take the safe route. I thought it sounded impressive to tell people I was a bank examiner or in commercial lending, but in reality, finance and banking bored me. In my heart, I wanted to create.

    Turns out, as a stay-at-home mom, I really didn't need a degree to be a domestic engineer. Even now, my youngest is 16, but here I am—still at home. Who knew that teenagers are needier than toddlers?

    I still indulge in creative efforts now and then, but my passion for writing is the strongest creative urgency I’ve ever discovered. For me, writing is like designing with words. Writing is artistry and encouragement, all woven together. I start with an inspiration, add truth and embellish it with anecdotes and humor and wa-lah!

    It’s odd though—I never dreamed of writing in high school. My plans were to be a designer, but it wasn’t until adversity encountered vision that the passion to write stirred inside of me. The same thing happened to the Apostle Paul.  

    In Acts 9:3 the Bible says that while Paul was traveling on the road to Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. In this passage, the word light comes from the Hebrew word phos which besides meaning a literal light also means truth, knowledge, and the power of understanding moral and spiritual truth. In essence, light also means revelation.

    Before that encounter, Paul perceived that his life’s work was to persecute Christians. It wasn’t until he ran into his destiny on the road to Damascus that Paul comprehended his real purpose. When he was blinded by the light he came to the end of himself and found a new beginning. 

    Sometimes, our own dreams are like a pair of jeans. By the time we finally achieve what we thought we wanted, our dream has faded and no longer fits. Thankfully, God has a way of pulling things out of us that we didn't even know existed. Proverbs 19:21 says, “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”

    When we get to the end of ourselves, we find the beginning. When we finally die, life springs forth. So get blinded by the light, and see your destiny shine.

  

Prayer: Father, help me to be aware of the truth that surrounds me. Help me to surrender my own agenda and submit to the plans that you have for me. Your plans far exceed any dreams I can achieve on my own. I pray that you would illuminate your truth to me so that I can fully walk in your ways and accomplish the purpose for which I was born to achieve. In Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

 

Scriptures to Ponder:

v  Acts 9

v  In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. Proverbs 16:9

v  But I have raised you up for this very purpose, that I might show you my power and that my name might be proclaimed in all the earth. Exodus 9:16

v  The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your love, O Lord, endures forever— do not abandon the works of your hands. Psalm 138:8

v  God is mighty, but does not despise men; he is mighty, and firm in his purpose. Job 36:5 

Thoughts to Ponder:

1. What are your dreams for your future?
2. Have your dreams faded or increased over the past several years?
3. Have you ever experienced the death of a dream? How did you feel?
4. Like the Apostle Paul on the road to Damascus, we often discover our destiny when adversity encounters vision. Have you ever experienced a similar encounter where a difficult time brought new revelation about your destiny? How did that affect you?
5. In Acts 9:15, the Lord says that Paul is his chosen instrument to carry his name before the Gentiles and their kings and before the people of Israel. How do you feel about being God’s chosen instrument for the task he has fashioned for you?

A guest speaker at our church quoted a familiar verse in his sermon on Sunday: In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord high and lifted up. I’ve heard messages on Isaiah 6:1 before but this time, I captured new perspective. Like a flame that ignites from a match head, a new revelation struck me.

In seeing the Lord high and lifted up, Isaiah not only saw God exalted, he had an “aha” moment. Something clicked that hadn’t clicked before. The seeing brought forth understanding.

Like Isaiah, my greatest encounters with God have also come on the heels of some type of death. Death has a way of cleansing, stripping false hope and opening my eyes to a new reality. It doesn’t have to be the death of a person. In Isaiah’s case, it wasn’t so much the departure of King Uzziah as the demise of an icon. His 52-year reign was characterized by prosperity, promise and a hope for the future and now that he was gone, perhaps Isaiah’s longing to see God increased.

Often it takes the removal of what we deem significant in order for us to esteem Significance.

Prior to his vision, Isaiah held a respectable career in the royal palace in Jerusalem, but God was calling him to be a prophet. The meeting with God came with a commission that altered the course of his life.

The same thing happened to the woman at the well and Saul on the road to Damascus. Maybe it’s happened to you too. If the book of Isaiah recorded your testimony, what would it say?

I’ll go first.

In the year that my first marriage crashed, I had a revelation of the Lord that changed my identity. I knew God was calling me to discard my addiction to relationships and minister to women.  

Now it's your turn: Copy the statement below. Then paste the statement in your blog comment and fill in the blanks. Or if you prefer, write your own.  

 

In the year that _______ I had an encounter with God that _______. I knew God was calling me to __________.