Flight to Heaven Read online

  If millions of jewels had been gathered into one place and the brightest sunlight shone through them, it wouldn’t begin to describe the colors I saw. Heaven was filled with a rainbow of hues and provided me with a sensory feast.

  My eyes were next drawn to a river that stretched from the gathering area in the middle of the city to the wall. It flowed toward the wall and seemed to end there, at least from my vantage point. The river was perfectly clear with a bluish-white hue. The light didn’t shine on the water but mysteriously shone within it somehow.

  The wall to the city was not a single wall but rather a series of walls layered next to each other. The wall was made of three outer layers, three inner layers, and one higher wall in the center. The outer layers of the wall were about forty feet tall. Each layer of the wall was taller as it got closer to the center, like a stairstep. At its tallest point the wall was a couple hundred feet. And surprisingly, it was as thick as it was tall. The wall was massive and stretched out to my left and right as far as I could see in both directions.

  The outer wall was greenish in color with a hint of blue and a hint of black mingled within it. It was made entirely of translucent stones. Large multicolored stones were built into the base of the wall in layered rows. A powerful light permeated the wall, and you could see all the colors of the rainbow in it. Strangely, whenever I moved, the colors moved ever so slightly as if sensing my movement and making an adjustment.

  The two angels that had escorted me there were still with me, moving me along, the three of us in sync, making sure I was where I should be, when I should be there.

  I was eye-level with the base of the wall now and no longer hovering above it, but standing in front of an impressive opening. It was an archway that seemed to be approximately forty feet high and thirty to thirty-five feet wide.

  A tall, majestic angelic being stood to the right side of the gate, dressed similarly to my escorts with the exception of the golden belt wrapped around his upper waist. A large emblem was located on the belt where a buckle would normally be. He appeared very strong and masculine. His hair was either white or it was the light radiating from him. But his entire being, and his head, specifically, was illuminated in bright white light. His face seemed to light up with love and joy at seeing me.

  The entrance, or gateway, was opalescent in color, as if it had been made of pearls that had been liquefied, and then solidified onto the wall. The entrance was completely composed of this mesmerizing substance that also coated the entire inside of the opening as far as I could see. The ornamentation around the entrance included phenomenal detail. It was the most astounding sight I had ever seen. As I basked in the beauty that adorned the gateway, I noticed large gold letters emblazoned above the opening. They seemed to quiver with life. The single line of letters formed an arch over the entrance. I didn’t recognize the letters but knew the words were as important as any words could be. Other letters were written in honey-colored gemstones on the ground in front of the entrance and included several lines. The entrance through the thick wall was breathtaking. The opening seemed filled with light that was the purest of white, yet it seemed to have countless hues that changed with even my slightest movement. I was filled with excited anticipation of entering that beautiful gate.

  I was immersed in music, in light, and in love. Vibrant life permeated everything. All these weren’t just around me, they were inside me. And it was wonderful, more wonderful than anything I had ever experienced. It felt as if I belonged there. I didn’t want to leave. Ever. It was as if this was the place I had been searching all my life to find, and now I’d found it. My search was over!

  A smaller group of people in soft-white robes had congregated to my left in the lush grass just off the roadway. It now seemed as if the music was orchestrating the event, moving people to their proper places. They had just arrived and were waiting in the wings, on time and in place, as if they followed a director’s cue.

  Who are these people? I wondered. And why are they here?

  As suddenly as I had wondered, the answer came. They were here for me. Wherever they had traveled from and however far they had traveled, they had traveled for me. The looks on their faces, their excitement at seeing me, at welcoming me, was overwhelming. I felt so special, so loved. I had never felt such a deep sense of belonging. They radiated profound joy at seeing me. Everyone smiled, their eyes warm and kind; their hearts so filled with unconditional love that it spilled out of them onto me. No one was recognizable as an earthly acquaintance, but all seemed remarkably familiar. I didn’t know these people, but somehow I knew they were my family—my spiritual family, my brothers, my sisters, spanning generations.

  Although I didn’t know them, somehow they knew me. They knew Dale Black. They knew my name. And they knew the real me, not the one I tried to project on earth to be accepted by someone I wanted to be friends with or to be validated by some group of peers I wanted to be part of.

  They not only knew my name but somehow they knew the story behind my name. I was unaccustomed to such love and acceptance. I began to understand that this love is what God had designed for me from the beginning. These people had come to welcome me, include me, and communicate to me that I was a valuable part of the family of God. I had never felt so loved in my life, yet I had never done anything for these people. This was unconditional love. They were vessels of God’s love. Both individually and collectively.

  For some reason I clearly understood that I should not be touched, at least not yet. No one tried to touch me, and I didn’t have a need to be embraced. The love I received from my spiritual family was so fulfilling and satisfying that no human touch could rival how loved I felt.

  As I gazed into the radiant faces of these precious people, I looked into eyes that were more colorful than any on earth. Their smiles were brighter. Their countenances more alive. Each person was a living, vibrant, eternal being, exuding the very life of God.

  I didn’t think about whether they were male or female, although there were both. I saw them for who they were. None were skinny, none overweight. None were crippled, none were bent or broken. None were old, none were young. If I had to guess, I would say they appeared to be somewhere around thirty years old. They had no wrinkles, no signs of shifting or sagging, no signs of aging at all. I somehow understood that time was not an enemy here. Although some form of time does seem to exist in heaven, no one aged. No one died. Nothing decayed.

  They wore soft-white seamless robes. Their skin tones were different but blended together so that no single person stood out. I did not notice racial differences, but I was aware that they had come from many tribes and nations.

  None were recognized by the physical or social distinctions that we recognize on earth. All were recognized by their spirit, by the essence of who they were. Everyone and everything was full of pure life and was connected to the light somehow, and everything that was connected led to God.

  Part of the joy I was experiencing was not only the presence of everything wonderful but the absence of everything terrible. There was no strife, no competition, no sarcasm, no betrayal, no deception, no lies, no murders, no unfaithfulness, no disloyalty, nothing contrary to the light and life and love.

  In short, there was no sin.

  And the absence of sin was something you could feel. There was no shame, because there was nothing to be ashamed of. There was no sadness, because there was nothing to be sad about. There was no need to hide, because there was nothing to hide from. It was all out in the open. Clean and pure.

  Here was perfection. Complete and utter perfection. The revelation of sin’s absence was astounding and exhilarating. This is where I belonged. I was made to be in heaven. In a perfect place where there is no sin.

  I had been in heaven for some time before I recognized sin’s absence. Now I contemplated the one thing that dominated everything on earth . . . that infected everything on earth, but was missing here. It can be compared to oxygen. I went through life not really t
hinking about the air I was breathing while I worked, slept, ate, and drove. But take that air away and I would think about nothing else. Similarly, I was so accustomed to sin that I hadn’t even recognized its far-reaching effects in every part of life. But nothing had been tainted in heaven by sin’s destructive touch. This perfection I experienced was largely due to the absence of sin.

  The best unity I have ever felt on earth did not compare with the exhilarating oneness that I experienced with my spiritual family in heaven. This love . . . God’s love, was transforming. To experience something so sacred, so profound as the boundless love of God was the most thrilling part of heaven. It satisfied a longing in the deepest part of me. My spiritual family had shared God’s perfect love with me. How could I ever be the same?

  My attention was diverted to the beautiful entrance. I was certain I was going through the gate. Again I turned back toward my precious family and did not want to leave that perfect love. But because of the highly expectant look on their smiling faces, it seemed as if they knew I would be given a gift and what that gift would do for me.

  I felt so special, you can’t believe how special. After all, all this was for me. Everyone there was there for me. I had no idea what gift I was to receive, but the anticipation on the faces of the people let me know that it was something extraordinary.

  I felt like a kid again, like that fifth-grade kid who loved God. Like that kid who used to look forward to Christmas like you wouldn’t believe. I couldn’t wait to open the gifts that waited for me under the tree. And I couldn’t wait for the gift that waited for me now.

  The music continued, such beautiful music, and I became even more excited. It swelled and with it so did my anticipation.

  And then, as I was about to travel through the entrance and receive the gift . . .

  I was swept away.

  16

  ASK AND RECEIVE

  It was springtime, and I was back for yet another visit with Dr. Graham. This time I brought flowers for his receptionist.

  “Oh, Dale! What a surprise!”

  “It’s the least I can do for all you have done for me.”

  “Well, it’s no secret that you are our favorite patient.” She winked and lowered her voice. “Even Doc has a special place in his heart for you, Dale. But, of course, he’ll never let you know.”

  My weekly checkups had grown into pleasant afternoon diversions. I felt such gratitude for Dr. Graham’s staff. They were so caring, so loving. The quiet, reserved concern of the doctor touched me even more.

  This particular day I was feeling on top of the world. After the routine X rays and exam, the doctor simply said, “Dale, I’d like to meet with you in my office next week.” His face was as inscrutable as ever.

  “Great! See you next week, Doc!”

  He left the room, and I picked up my crutches and walked down the hall, where I went past autographed photographs of Evel Knievel, Peggy Fleming, and dozens of other sports figures and television celebrities.

  All the way down the hall I wondered what he wanted to see me about, why he didn’t say more. I couldn’t imagine what it might be. Nothing serious, surely. After all, I was out of the woods on all the serious stuff.

  The following week I returned with new gifts in hand. After the X rays, which he normally went over with me in the examination room, he took me to his private office. The stuffed chair was stiff, and I felt even stiffer. He sat at his desk, quietly looking over my file as I fidgeted in anticipation.

  “OK, Dale. I’ve got good news and bad news.”

  “Where have I heard that before?” A big smile stretched across my face and pulled painfully at my stitches.

  “Your shoulder is doing well,” he said matter-of-factly. “Have you been exercising it?”

  I chuckled. “I guess you can call it that. I call it T-A-S . . . training in aeronautical sciences! When I’m driving my car, I stick my arm out the window and let the wind lift it. I can’t move it on my own yet, but depending on the angle of my hand, I get quite a bit of elevated movement and stretching from the wind. I know it’s making the shoulder stronger.”

  He cracked his first smile. “You’re right. It is getting stronger. In fact, your shoulder is the most amazing thing I’ve seen in my medical career.”

  “I’m guessing that’s not the reason you wanted to meet with me.”

  “No. The reason is your ankle.”

  “My ankle? I thought it was healing just fine.”

  “When we observed the blood beginning to circulate in your ankle, I really believed that your faith played a part in that. Regrettably, the blood supply hasn’t increased beyond the 15 percent I observed when we examined it last.”

  He paused, as if trying to find the right words. But no words came.

  “What do you recommend?” I asked.

  He got up from his desk and pulled a thick leather-bound medical book off the shelf, opening it to a page he had marked. He looked at the page, then at me.

  “I believe we need to operate on your ankle immediately. There is no time to lose. We need to perform a bone fusion, removing pieces of the bone from your hip and attaching them to your leg and foot bones. This will result in permanent immobility of the ankle, but it will allow you to at least put weight on it in the future.”

  His finger conspicuously tapped at a picture in the medical book. I don’t know what I said next. But I knew I needed time to process what Dr. Graham had said.

  It was a big decision. A permanent decision.

  I left the office quickly, without small-talking with the receptionist or the usual chorus of good-byes to the staff.

  My plans that afternoon included another flight with Capt. Fred Griffith, the test pilot who had flown me over the monument for the first time after the crash. He was going to take me flying again. I was more prepared for it this time, both emotionally and physically . . . until my visit with Dr. Graham. His news knocked the wind out of me. The last thing I felt like was getting into a plane, a plane I would never again fly if I had the operation that Dr. Graham felt was so critical.

  I was confused and angry. I pulled my car over to use a pay phone and canceled the flight with Fred. I drove and drove and drove, trying to get it out of my system. How could God do this? I mean, good grief, what does He want from me? I’ve sought Him. I’ve taken care of myself, followed the doctor’s orders. I’ve shared His love with others. I believed God’s Word, believed He would heal me. Now this.

  I caught the Ventura Freeway, wound around the interchange, and drove south to Long Beach. I needed a second opinion.

  I respected my grandpa enormously. As I closed the door to his office, I hadn’t even sat down before the news spilled out of me. I repeated what Dr. Graham had said.

  Fusion is permanent. And permanent is a long time. If I got the ankle fused, walking would be difficult, sports would be something I watched on TV, and flying . . .

  Forget flying.

  Forever.

  One question seemed paramount. Why?

  Grandpa leaned forward, looking directly into my eyes. “Dale, you receive healing by faith, not by sight!” Those were Grandpa’s first words. “It’s not what you see on the X-ray machine that matters. What matters is what God says about it and then what you’re going to believe in your heart.”

  Grandpa and I continued our discussion as I wiped the stream of tears from my eyes.

  “Dale, the Bible says in Hebrews the eleventh chapter, that ‘faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’ That means that what you see, feel, or hear isn’t the final word. Don’t be moved by your physical senses or the circumstances around you. I’m not saying to ignore what the doctors say. Not at all. They are professionals, and they are here to help, and God uses doctors in mighty ways. But above all else, when push comes to shove, believe what God has said. Do what God’s Word says to do. Do what you believe in your heart God is telling you to do.”

  I stared blankly at the toug
h, stubborn man of faith who sat across from me. His face was flushed with the intensity of his words. Yet I simply could not grasp the full impact of all that he was saying. I still didn’t know if God wanted me to have the surgery.

  At last, in a burst of frustration, I said, “Look, Grandpa. I’m going to take this piece of paper.” I ripped a sheet off a legal pad that he’d placed next to his open Bible. “I’m gonna write down everything you say. . . .”

  “Dale, don’t put your faith in me. That will never work. Eventually all men will fail. But God cannot fail. And it is impossible for God to lie. Dale, your faith must be in God and in His Word.” His voice was kind but firm.

  I responded, “No, don’t worry, Gramps. I’m not putting my faith in you, it’s just that you’ve been a DOER of God’s Word a lot longer than I have, and I know you can help direct me to the right principles in the Bible. But I will guarantee you this: Whatever I write on this list, I am going to do. After I have done everything that I write down, then all I have to do is wait on God.”

  “OK, Dale, you work that out between God and yourself. But here is what I recommend for you because this has been my experience.” And so Grandpa began to list the principles he had learned while seeking the will of God.

  “First of all, pray. Pray alone, pray with the elders, and pray with your friends. Just make sure that your prayer partners really believe and agree with you that God will answer your prayer.”

  I carefully wrote down everything on my checklist. Pray. Pray alone and in a group of only those who believe.

  “Second, Dale, read your Bible.”

  I interrupted. “Read what? Where do I begin?”