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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