Flight to Heaven Read online

  “Let God show you, Dale; just start reading,” Grandpa replied. “Something in the Bible will jump out at you as if it were printed in big red letters. God will have special chapters and verses for you. Special words will speak directly to your heart. He will lead you to them if you will ask and then expect Him to lead.”

  Being a young, underdeveloped Christian, I thought this all sounded pretty mysterious. “But I am going to do every last thing on this list. I refuse to be a hearer only! I will become a doer of God’s Word!”

  Grandpa hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Third, Dale, do exactly what God says in the Bible. Be on guard and ready, however, because in my experience I’ve learned that your faith will be tested in order to be strengthened. Understand, it is not God testing your faith, but He is allowing it to be tested to determine whether you really believe in your heart what God has promised. And remember, Dale, God’s will is what you’re looking for, and His will is found in His Word. He will never violate His Word.”

  Grandpa’s words burned into my heart, and I was sure that I would never forget a single thing he had said. Nevertheless, I carefully folded the piece of paper with my checklist on it and tucked it securely into my shirt pocket, determined to follow each bit of instruction to the letter.

  Now that I had discussed my fears and hopes about my ankle with Grandpa and had a plan to follow, I needed to talk to him about another equally difficult subject. I shifted in my chair, adjusted my cast and braces, trying to find a comfortable position. He leaned forward, peered deep into my eyes, and asked, “What else is troubling you, Dale?”

  I had spent a lot of time with my grandfather. We were very close, and I knew my grandfather loved me. He communicated his love by listening well and giving me his time when I needed it.

  Russell Price commanded a great deal of respect among his peers and was known by all as a man of principle who possessed a strong backbone. He was a man of his word. He lived in a world governed by principles. The most important things in his life were God, his family, his church, and his business . . . in that order.

  Of course I loved Grandpa, and respected him too. That’s why I found myself in his office that spring afternoon. I now told him about the returning memories of the crash. Next, I nervously confessed to him that I had observed my body on the operating table. Timidly I began to share vivid memories of heaven but only in a brief, general way. First I wanted to “test the waters” to see how he’d react. I briefly explained the wall, the people, the music, but did not go into much detail.

  “Dale, before you go on, may I say a few things?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Sure, of course, that’s exactly why I’m here.”

  “In my lifetime, Dale, I’ve observed many people before you who have used supernatural experiences to gain accolades from others. Many books have been written about this, and these people go around the country speaking on the subject to fan the flame of self-promotion. But in my opinion, most of this is done for financial gain or recognition and is not pleasing to the Lord. Dale, when you’re dealing with things like heaven and eternity, you’re operating in God’s realm. That realm is the spiritual, and I think you need to be cautious. If God has truly given you these experiences, then those experiences are sacred, aren’t they?”

  I looked into his well-wrinkled, warm, and kind face but didn’t say a word.

  “Dale,” he continued, “I don’t hesitate for a second to believe that the experiences you have now remembered are real. I’ve known you all your life and I know your heart. If God has allowed you to see a glimpse of heaven, even if you were in heaven for a time, then you have a couple of options. You can speak about your experience, or you can treat the experience as sacred and let your life be a reflection of your experience. By that I mean, if you really did see the other side, then live out whatever you believe you saw. Live what you believe you heard. Just live what you learned. Your life’s actions will speak louder than your voice.”

  Moments passed and neither of us said a word. He was giving me time to think and process.

  Finally, my grandfather muttered while staring out his office window, “That might explain why you had no internal injuries or major brain damage.” He wiped tears from his eyes and said, “Well, praise the Lord.”

  I had asked Grandpa specific questions hundreds of times before and was always glad that I had. I decided to ask another one. “Grandpa, what would you do if you were in my shoes?”

  “Dale, let me say, if it were me, I would not use the experience for personal gain. Look, I’m not faulting others, and I’m not judging what others do. But you asked me my opinion, and I’m giving it to you. Live what you saw, Dale. Live what you believe you’ve learned from those experiences. I wouldn’t go around telling anyone anything until God has specifically instructed you to. If your experience in heaven was real, then let your life say so. And if the experiences were really from God, they will not go away. They will become a permanent part of you.

  “You can do what you want with this, Dale, and I’ll not judge you one way or the other. You can write about it, speak about it, or you can quietly live it instead. It’s totally up to you. But make sure that you hear from God. Spend enough time in prayer to know what He’s telling you to do.”

  Of course, none of what Grandpa shared surprised me; I knew him well. Finally, I thanked him for taking the time and hobbled out of his office.

  As I drove home, I began to talk to God. I felt as if He were right there with me. My problem was His problem.

  “Lord,” I prayed as I drove. “You made the world. You made the stars and everything in the universe. You created everything in existence.” I paused and unconsciously held my breath. I felt as if God had just shown me how the power of His spoken Word created all things in existence. It seemed to suddenly all make sense.

  “O God, You are so completely awesome!” I pondered these thoughts as I made my way southbound on the 405 bound for the Seal Beach Boulevard off-ramp. “And God, You made my ankle too. You know exactly what is wrong with it and how to fix it again. Father, I’ve read in the Bible that Jesus healed everyone that asked. He didn’t turn anyone down. It seems clear to me, Lord, that the Bible indicates that healing is available to everyone. Therefore, I believe it is Your will to heal me too. I believe without doubt that You want me healed and that You want to restore my ankle.”

  After parking my MGB, wanting to give the raw skin under my arms a needed reprieve from the constant use of crutches, I hopped on my right leg into the house. Without a moment’s hesitation, I made my way to my room and picked up my Bible. I held it in my hands for a few minutes, wondering where to turn and what to read.

  “God, You have something special to say to me through Your Word, right?” I held the Bible in both hands. “Lord! Please tell me where to read. Where should I begin?”

  I waited for a moment. Suddenly the number seven, then Matthew, chapter 7, entered my mind as if it were a photograph. At first I assumed this was just my imagination. But the mental picture could not be erased. Matthew, chapter 7, persisted.

  Somewhat skeptically, I turned the pages until I found the seventh chapter of Matthew: “Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged. . . .” As I read, I thought, What does this have to do with my ankle?

  Verse by verse I read on. And then it happened, just like Grandpa had said it would. My eyes were fixed on the verse, and the words leapt out at me as if they had my name printed all over them. The words seemed to grab me by the neck and shake me.

  Matthew 7:7-8, “Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.”

  God had led me to this simple statement of faith that had challenged His people for centuries. Was I any less likely to receive or find or enter into His dwelling place than any other of His children?

  Then I sai
d, “God, You said that everyone who asks, receives, and he who seeks, finds. God, that means me! And I ask You right now to heal my ankle so I can walk and run someday. Thank You, God. I believe You are answering this prayer even now.”

  The decision was made, then and there. “Lord, I am making a choice. I’m deciding to believe that You are going to answer my prayers and heal my ankle. I am asking You to do what is impossible in the natural realm.

  “God, if I’m ever going to walk again, if I’m ever going to play sports again . . .” By now tears were streaming down my face. I could barely see, but my prayer poured out like a river. “God, if I’m ever going to fly again . . .” I choked in my emotion. “Lord, if I am ever going to walk or play sports or fly, it will be for one reason. That reason will be that You healed me according to Your Word. I trust You, Lord, and I believe in You and Your Word! And I’ll be careful to give You the glory.”

  I stood up as if to deliver the final verdict. “God, I believe that it is not Your will for me to have this bone fusion operation! I respect Dr. Graham and I appreciate him, but You will be the one to perform this operation in Your way. And with You as my Physician, I will have normal use of my ankle someday.”

  “Thank You, God . . . thank You, Father,” I whispered, wiping my eyes. With that, I closed my Bible. From that moment on, the course was set . . . the flight plan was filed. Under His wings I would be carried to the destination of His choosing.

  Over the next few days, I confirmed another decision in my mind and settled it in my heart. I would live what I learned from my experiences in heaven. I decided not to share my sacred experiences with anyone—not my parents, not my girlfriend, not even my wife or children, should I ever have them. Until God clearly instructed me otherwise, these experiences would be kept between Him and me alone. And I knew Gramps would keep my secret. I asked God for the strength to live a life that would reflect the experiences He blessed me with. I would need His power and strength to bring glory to Him by becoming that reflection of His faith, hope, and love.

  The next day I phoned Grandpa. He seemed pleased to hear my decision but reminded me not to get my eyes off God’s Word and His promise. Then I phoned Dr. Graham. That was entirely another story.

  “Dale, you’re making a mistake, a serious mistake. You are gambling with your ability to walk again, to ever walk again. If the circulation in your ankle doesn’t improve, you won’t be able to move it, let alone put any weight on it. Your ankle will collapse. Arthritis will set in. And you will be in severe pain the rest of your life. With no cure. Am I making myself clear? Do you understand, Dale?”

  The words were hard to hear. The tone was even harder. I told him how much I respected him, how much I appreciated all he had done for me, but my decision was final.

  I believed God was going to let me fly again. If I was ever to do that, it wouldn’t be with a fused ankle. I made the decision in faith. I’m sure Dr. Graham thought I had made it in presumption. Regardless, I was the one who had to live with the consequences.

  “Hello, Mrs. Ferguson? This is Dale Black.” I felt a little foolish making the call, but I was determined to do it anyway. “In James, the fifth chapter, the Bible instructs us to call for the elders of the church and have them pray, if any is sick. I wanted to ask you and your husband to pray about something for me.”

  She didn’t hesitate at all. “Sure, Dale. What is it?”

  I read from the scribbled notes I’d made on the paper in Gramps’ office. “Well, it’s about some things that I’m asking God to do in my body. He started a miracle in my ankle, but then it seemed as if He quit! But now I believe He is going to restore my ankle all the way, 100 percent. I need some believers to pray in agreement with me. Would you pray for me and specifically ask God to restore blood circulation in my left ankle?”

  Grandpa had specifically said to make sure that those I asked to pray truly believed that God would do what He says. I knew that the Fergusons and my uncle and aunt, Jerry and Verna Price, would be the ones to ask for prayers of faith. They sincerely loved me, but, more important, they had faith in an all-powerful God who desires to heal and answer prayer.

  After speaking to them, I went outside to catch some fresh late-afternoon air. There stood a familiar smiling face. It was our friendly next-door neighbor, young Terry Smith. Terry’s father was a retired airline pilot. “How are you getting along, Dale?”

  Here was my first opportunity to speak about my faith in God’s Word regarding my ankle. “Well, Terry, I’m getting along great! God is completely healing my ankle. He’s producing another miracle in my body, and I’m very grateful. And Terry, how’s it going with you?”

  Within two hours of reading the seventh chapter of Matthew, I had made a decision not to have the operation of fusing bone from my hip into my ankle. Four people were now praying in faith for my ankle to be restored. Yet I began to realize the first person that needed to be convinced that God’s Word was true in my life was the one looking back in the mirror—me. I didn’t completely understand it all at first. But as I repeated promises from the Bible and spoke out loud about those words to myself and to others, something wonderful was happening. Those Bible promises began to take root in my heart.

  “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for,” I reminded myself, “the evidence of things not seen.” Evidence—that’s the kind of hard facts lawyers present that must stand up in a court of law. I was beginning to understand.

  There was a kind of exhilaration to this new experiment in obedience to God’s Word. I felt as if I were beginning an adventure with the God who created me. And that’s exactly what it was. He and I were going to travel together. He would instruct; I would obey and learn.

  Because of my inexperience, though, I had not counted on discouraging words, disappointing circumstances, or devastating medical reports. My first unexpected detour came when my father heard that I had decided not to have the bone-fusion surgery recommended by Dr. Graham. “Dale, I think you’re being unrealistic,” he said.

  It was difficult to disagree with my dad. He was a strong individual and a successful businessman, president of his own company, one of the spin-offs of the family business. He had also seen me through the entire airplane crash ordeal, and he had shared my burden without complaint. It was Dad and Grandpa who had believed that prayer would heal my ankle in the first place. On my behalf they rejected one operation just after the crash and their decision turned out to be the best one for me. But now I felt sad saying, “No, Dad, I’ve made up my mind. I’ve already asked God to heal my ankle, and I’m going to believe that He will.”

  When I returned to the college campus, I had dozens of opportunities to verbally confirm my newfound perspective.

  When friends asked how I was doing, I had a standard reply: “God has healed me. Praise the Lord! Soon I’ll have new X rays to prove it! You watch. You wait. You’ll see.”

  As the time of my next doctor’s appointment came around, I gathered up five friends who wanted to see the miracle firsthand. We piled into an old green Cadillac and headed for Burbank. As we drove, I reminded them of our purpose: “You guys are going to be eyewitnesses to an awesome miracle.”

  We cruised happily along the freeway, parked, then descended upon the medical building like a small, loyal regiment of soldiers. We were full of youthful zeal. Dr. Graham’s staff, somewhat used to my eccentric behavior, graciously welcomed my friends.

  “They’re here to see that God has healed my ankle,” I explained.

  The X rays were taken. We waited anxiously until Dr. Graham emerged with them in hand. “Wait, Doc. Before you put up the X rays, would you mind if we prayed together and thanked God for what He has already done?”

  Doctor Graham nodded OK to my request. The six of us held hands as we gathered around the viewing screen to pray. We thanked the Lord for what He had done and for what we were about to see. After we said amen, Dr. Graham placed the negatives on the screen to begin his analysis.
/>   He paused a long time before he spoke. At last, and with some difficulty, he broke the news. “There is absolutely no progress. I’m sorry, Dale, the blood is not circulating in your ankle.”

  Even though the war was far from being over, that little battle marked a heavy defeat. My friends and I were an untrained unit. Our equipment and weapons had not been previously tested. As for me, I was only beginning to learn how to put on the full armor of God. I had a long, long way to go.

  Subdued and thoughtful, we headed back to the car. “Don’t worry, Dale, God is certainly not finished yet!” Dave patted me on the back as he spoke. Gene, Larry, Jerry, and others offered their own guarded condolences.

  I told my friends that I didn’t want to talk. I turned and gazed out the window, discouraging further communication. It was uncomfortable for everyone anyway. And it was a good thing, because inside I was becoming self-centered again. In my heart, thoughts that I was ashamed of exposed themselves. Don’t give me all those neat little answers and clichés. It’s my life, not yours. You have no idea how I feel! The cold fact was this: God did not do what He told me He would do. God let me down. He blew it and I don’t like it at all! I have acted like a fool by trusting Him! My thoughts riveted to the possibility that maybe Dr. Graham was right. Maybe I had made a choice that would leave me more crippled than I had dared believe. Was God that unfair? Was He that hard to figure out? What was I going to do now?

  All at once I remembered—the checklist! Had God allowed my faith to be tested? I recalled Grandpa Price cautioning me that once my faith was put into action, I would be tested back. I had told hundreds of people that my ankle was healed. I wasn’t playing games. I had truly believed it to be so. But what had happened? When the X rays came back with a negative report, I had believed them more than God’s Word. I listened to the wrong voice. I believed in circumstances and let go of the promise of God! How could I have let it happen?

  My faith grew as I studied the Bible and replaced my doubt with increasing faith in the promises of God.