peering into eternity
Encouragement

Peering Into Eternity

I can still clearly remember the day my heart stopped. At only 17 years old, I had a cardiac arrest.

I was a cheerleader for my high school, and our football team was playing for the district championship. It was an intense game. I was on the sidelines, willing our team to victory. Feeling every play. My senses on high alert.

The clock was running out, the game was on the line, and a huge upset play turned the outcome in our favor. Along with all of my friends and the other fans, I cheered wildly, almost in disbelief.

I can still smell the freshly mowed grass of the field, concessions, sweat. I can hear the roar of the crowd in my head. I can feel my heart racing…and racing. Long after I stopped jumping and screaming, it was still racing.  I thought it would never stop.

Two hours later, the familiar senses were replaced by the sharp antiseptic smell, bright lights, and hushed commotion of an emergency room. I tried to listen to the frantic conversations around me, wanting to know what was happening. I don’t think I really knew how serious it was until my body began relaxing and I told my doctor I thought I was feeling better.

I’ll never forget the way he reassuringly patted my hand, stared at the heart monitor, and said, “Yes. Yes, you feel better.” Moments later, he yelled “code blue!” and it seemed like a flood of people rushed around me. As a tube was shoved down my throat, I realized for the first time that this was serious. 

They say that your life flashes before your eyes, and that’s true in a sense. My mind was filled with thoughts and images of loved ones. I was so concerned about family and friends and how devastated they would be. 

But within seconds, those feelings were gone, replaced by something unspeakably powerful. More than just a bright light as some people describe, but so difficult to explain. More than anything, I wanted to be where I was and to stay there–to be drawn in deeper and deeper. There was not thought of anything earthly in my mind. I was in the presence or approaching the presence of God.

I won’t know until I die how much more brilliant it gets because to my deep disappointment, the brilliance faded as earthly noises again filled my ears. As terrible as it sounds, I regretted having been brought back to this world. All I wanted was to be in that Presence again. Though I physically felt fine, I was emotionally empty. In all the years to follow, I have felt nothing in this world to compare with those moments in the presence of God.

Recently, I saw the movie 90 Minutes in Heaven, coming to theaters tomorrow. As the story unfolded on the screen, I could relate to the experiences of Don Piper. He was pronounced dead and found himself in the presence of God. But like me, he was brought back to earth and had to struggle through the unhappy reality that this world will always be inadequate. Yet clearly, God has a reason for Don, and for me, to still be alive. He has a purpose for us.

Since my first episode when I was 17, I have had more than a dozen surgeries. I know that life is tenuous. My heart is unreliable at best! But in a way, I believe that I have been given a precious gift. I was given a rare opportunity to peek over the edge of eternity and see the real and living God. And it taught me a great lesson.  A lesson to question myself about my life and my purpose.  Whenever my heart struggles and the doctor recommends another surgery I always wonder–is this it? Have I done all that God wants me to do? And when I wake up after the surgery my first thought is–I guess not.  There must be something more God wants me to accomplish.

I could die at any time. But so could anyone. Our lives are unpredictable! But as long as we are here, our purpose is clear: to serve God, love others, and make every day count.

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