"Quite,"
he said.
"And
I am experiencing a bit of Heaven?"
"A
bit, yes. The smallest possible bit. There is much more, of course."
"How
do you know?"
"I
am a permanent resident."
"An
angel or a glorified man?"
"Excellent
question! I expected no less."
A
blatant attempt at flattery, I knew, but this guy, whoever he was,
was just amiable enough for me to not get too annoyed.
"And
you are?” I asked. “And don't be evasive this time. It's a nice
day out there, and I am on the verge of deciding that answers to my
questions are less important than I thought a minute ago."
"It's
been much less than a minute, my friend," he said.
"You're
doing it again," I said.
"Yes.
I promise to stop if this time you answer a question from me."
I
raised my eyebrow at him. He did the same at me, at the same time,
but better. And then that whole image metamorphosis thing occurred
again, and I saw him at a variety of ages, as if he were all of them
at once.
"Stop
doing that! It's disconcerting!" I grumped.
"I
imagine it is, but I am not doing it. You are. When you
reside in Heaven, even as a visitor, what you think is what you see.
Or more precisely, what you think, is reality. That's why
permanent residence requires an existential transformation.
Terrestrial beings cannot stay here for long. They need to put on
immortality and incorruptibility. I'm sure you could imagine the
resulting chaos otherwise. That's why you are in an Isolation Room,
of sorts. Quarantine, so to speak. 'The Balcony', as it were."
I
had to admit, he was very good at controlling the
conversation, and seemed to love words, like favorite toys or
building blocks. The more he spoke, the more questions I had, and the
easier it became to get side-tracked. Plus, while I felt the
conversation was extremely important, I lacked a certain necessary
sense of urgency about it. That breeze and sky outside were too
inviting. And I had not felt so physically good in a long time. Maybe
since birth. But then, my laser-like focus would come into question
and we couldn't have that.
He
was smiling, again. I knew that he knew that I knew that he knew what
I was thinking. It was kind of fun, and creepy, and the blue outside
was the bluest blue I had ever seen, or could imagine ever seeing.
But enough of this, I decided, I have my reputation to
consider. For some reason, I laughed out loud at that thought. So
did he.
"Alright.
What's your question?” I asked, surrendering. “And remember, a
deal's a deal. I answer your question and you answer mine. Yes?"
"Of
course. Here it is: how did you get here?"
"I
died. You said so yourself."
"Please!
Now you're just being petulant again."
I
cleared my throat to gain time. I do not like tests, or trick
questions. I especially dislike tests that contain trick questions.
"Fine,"
I said. "If this is Heaven, and I am now a victim of the First
Death, the only way I could have gained entrance, even to
Heaven's Balcony, was through faith in Jesus Christ and His death on
the Cross in payment for my sins."
It's
funny. I knew that was the answer he was looking for, and if he were
being truthful in his claim to have studied me, he had to have known
that's what I would say. So why the test? Why make me say it?
At
that very moment, in addition to the idyllic sky, the warm breeze,
the lazy summer sounds, and the perfect and painless physical
condition I was in, something else came into my awareness. Something
big and complicated and powerful that was impossible to describe, but
indisputably good and pure. It filled, well, everything, and in some
ways it was a glorious and stirring symphony, and in some ways the
purest, radiant light, and in some ways neither of those things and
all of them at once, but much, much more.
Everything
that I am smiled (if that is even possible) in utter, inexpressible
joy. I am sure my eyes glistened with emotion so deep and profound
that I should not have been able to see through the incipient tears.
But I could, even more clearly than I had before! I saw my
companion's face, and it looked as I imagined my own did; completely
enthralled and filled with anticipation guaranteed to be fulfilled
exceedingly abundantly above whatever either one of us could ask or
think.
"You
did that on purpose!" I said.
"Yes!”
he admitted. “Consider it a gift. A downpayment of unimaginably
greater things to come. And, your welcome."
I
laughed then in a way that I hadn't done since I was a boy, being
lovingly trounced on by a litter of puppies full of life and eager to
welcome into the pack a new, and interesting, if odd-looking, giant
member.
"Your
turn," I said with complete equanimity, after some uncountable
time. "Who exactly are you?"
He
looked at me with that same knowing and friendly smile, and his image
fluctuated once more through all the stages of human life, finally
settling on the form of an ageless, wise, and compassionate man full
of love and unbounded warmth.
"I
am you." he said with a smile. "Transformed!"
© Bill Lilley 2011, 2013
