Would you like to share your real life story? Then read this. You'll find more resources at the bottom of this page.
From: Patrick Mulvehill
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1998
I recently received two stories that I thought I would pass along. Both stories relate accounts about death and the after life. Stories like these, when true as one of these is reported to be, help to remind us of the reality of our future. Though many a theological argument is often raised about such stories as these, I believe it is safe to enjoy the reminder of our blessed hope in eternity that these stories offer. I hope that you enjoy them. God Bless!
The Rogers are devout Christians who have built a strong family. The father has a special interest in the spiritual condition of each of his children and often would quiz them in order to know if they were sure of their salvation. Occasionally he would ask them to share in their own words about their relationship with Jesus Christ.
One day it was seven-year-old Jimmy's turn to express how he knew he had eternal life. Jimmy told his version: "I think it will be something like this in Heaven. One day when we all get to go to Heaven, it will be time for the big angel to read from the big book the names of all the people who will be there. He will come to the Rogers family and say, 'Daddy Rogers?' and Daddy will say, 'Here!' Then the angel will call out, 'Mommy Rogers?' and Mommy will say 'Here!' Then the angel will come down to call out Susie Rogers and Mavis Rogers, and they will both say, 'Here!'"
He paused, took a big deep breath and continued. "And finally that big angel will read my name, Jimmy Rogers, and because I'm little and maybe he'll miss me, I'll jump and shout real loud, 'Here!' to make sure he knows I'm there." Just a few days later there was a tragic accident. A car struck down little Jimmy Rogers as he made his way to catch the school bus. He was rushed by ambulance to the hospital, and all the family was summoned. He was in critical condition.
The little family group gathered around the bed in which little Jimmy now lay with no movement, no consciousness and no hope for recovery. The doctors had done all that was in their power. Jimmy would probably be gone by morning.
The family prayed and waited. Late in the night the little boy seemed to be stirring a bit. They all moved closer. They saw his lips move; just one word was all he uttered before he passed from this life. But what a word of comfort and hope for a grieving family he was to leave behind. In the clear voice of a little boy, loud and clear enough so all could hear and understand, little Jimmy Rogers said the one word:
And then he was gone to another life beyond this world, where a big angel was reading the names of all those written there.
This is a true story that occurred in 1994 and was told by Lloyd Glen.
Throughout our lives we are blessed with spiritual experiences, some of which are very sacred and confidential, and others, although sacred, are meant to be shared. Last summer my family had a spiritual experience that had a lasting and profound impact on us, one we feel must be shared. It's a message of love. It's a message of regaining perspective, and restoring proper balance and renewing priorities. In humility. I pray that I might, in relating this story, give you a gift my little son, Brian gave our family one summer day last year.
On July 22nd I was in route to Washington DC for a business trip. It was all so very ordinary, until we landed in Denver for a plane change. As I collected my belongings from the overhead bin, an announcement was made for Mr. Lloyd Glenn to see the United Customer Service Representative immediately. I thought nothing of it until I reached the door to leave the plane and I heard a gentleman asking every male if they were Mr. Glenn. At this point I knew something was wrong and my heart sunk. When I got off the plane a solemn-faced young man came toward me and said, "Mr. Glenn there is an emergency at your home. I do not know what the emergency is, or who is involved, but I will take you to the phone so you can call the hospital." My heart was now pounding, but the will to be calm took over.
Woodenly, I followed this stranger to the distant telephone where I called the number he gave me for the Mission Hospital. My call was put through to the trauma center where I learned that my three-year-old son had been trapped underneath the automatic garage door for several minutes, and that when my wife had found him he was dead. CPR had been performed by a neighbor, who is a doctor, and the paramedics had continued the treatment as Brian was transported to the hospital. By the time of my call, Brian was revived and they believed he would live, but they did not know how much damage had been done to his brain, nor to his heart. They explained that the door had completely closed on his little sternum right over his heart. He had been severely crushed. After speaking with the medical staff, my wife sounded worried but not hysterical, and I took comfort in her calmness.
The return flight seemed to last forever, but finally I arrived at the hospital six hours after the garage door had come down. When I walked into the intensive care unit, nothing could have prepared me to see my little son laying so still on a great big bed with tubes and monitors everywhere. He was on a respirator. I glanced at my wife who stood and tried to give me a reassuring smile. It all seemed like a terrible dream. I was filled in with the details and given a guarded prognosis. Brian was going to live, and the preliminary tests indicated that his heart was ok-two miracles, in and of themselves. But only time would tell if his brain received any damage.
Throughout the seemingly endless hours, my wife was calm. She felt that Brian would eventually be all right. I hung on to her words and faith like a lifeline. All that night and the next day Brian remained unconscious. It seemed like forever since I had left for my business trip the day before. Finally at two o'clock that afternoon, our son regained consciousness and sat up uttering the most beautiful words I have ever heard spoken, He said, "Daddy hold me," and he reached for me with his little arms.
By the next day he was pronounced as having no neurological or physical deficits, and the story of his miraculous survival spread throughout the hospital. You cannot imagine our gratitude and joy. As we took Brian home we felt a unique reverence for the life and love of our Heavenly Father that comes to those who brush death so closely. In the days that followed there was a special spirit about our home. Our two older children were much closer to their little brother. My wife and I were much closer to each other, and all of us were very close as a whole family. life took on a less stressful pace. Perspective seemed to be more focused, and balance much easier to gain and maintain. We felt deeply blessed. Our gratitude was truly profound.
Almost a month later to the day of the accident, Brian awoke from his afternoon nap and said, "Sit down mommy. I have something to tell you."
At this time in his life, Brian usually spoke in small phrases, so to say a large sentence surprised my wife. She sat down with him on his bed and he began his sacred and remarkable story.
"Do you remember when I got stuck under the garage door? Well it was so heavy and it hurt really bad. I called to you, but you couldn't hear me. I started to cry, but then it hurt too bad. And then the 'birdies' came."
"The birdies?" my wife asked puzzled.
"Yes," he replied. "The 'birdies' made a whooshing sound and flew into the garage. They took care of me."
"Yes," he said. "One of the 'birdies' came and got you. She came to tell you I got stuck under the door."
A sweet reverent feeling filled the room. The spirit was so strong and yet lighter than air. My wife realized that a three year-old had no concept of death and spirits, so he was referring to the beings who came to him from beyond as "birdies" because they were up in the air like birds that fly.
"What did the birdies look like?" she asked.
Brian answered. "They were so beautiful. They were dressed in white all white. Some of them had green and white. But some of them had on just white."
"Did they say anything?"
"Yes" he answered. "They told me the baby would be all right."
"The baby?" my wife asked confused.
And Brian answered, "The baby laying on the garage floor." He went on, "You came out and opened the garage door and ran to the baby. You told the baby to stay and not leave."
My wife nearly collapsed upon hearing this, for she had indeed gone and knelt beside Brian's body and seeing his crushed chest and unrecognizable features, knowing he was already dead, she looked up around her and whispered, "Don't leave us Brian, please stay if you can."
As she listened to Brian telling her the words she had spoken, she realized that the spirit had left his body and was looking down from above on this little lifeless form.
"Then what happened?" she asked.
"We went on a trip," he said, "far, far away.." He grew agitated trying to say the things he didn't seem to have the words for. My wife tried to calm and comfort him, and let him know it would be okay. He struggled with wanting to tell something that obviously was very important to him, but finding the words was difficult.
"We flew so fast up in the air. They're so pretty Mommy," he added, "and there is lots and lots of 'birdies.'" My wife was stunned. Into her mind the sweet comforting spirit enveloped her more soundly, but with an urgency she had never before known.
Brian went on to tell her that the "birdies" had told him that he had to come back and tell everyone about the "birdies." He said they brought him back to the house and that a big fire truck, and an ambulance were there. A man was bringing the baby out on a white bed and he tried to tell the man the baby would be okay, but the man couldn't hear him. He said, "birdies" told him he had to go with the ambulance, but they would be near him. He said, they were so pretty and so peaceful, and he didn't want to come back.
And then the bright light came. He said that the light was so bright and so warm, and he loved the bright light so much. Someone was in the bright light and put their arms around him and told him, "I love you but you have to go back. You have to play baseball, and tell everyone about the birdies."
"Then the person in the bright light kissed him and waved bye-bye. Then whoosh, the big sound came and they went into the clouds."
The story went on for an hour. He taught us that "birdies" were always with us, but we don't see them because we look with our eyes and we don't hear them because we listen with our ears. But they are always there, you can only see them in here (he put his hand over his heart). They whisper the things to help us to do what is right because they love us so much. Brian continued, stating, "I have a plan, Mommy. You have a plan. Daddy has a plan. Everyone has a plan. We must all live our plan and keep our promises. The 'birdies' help us to do that cause they love us so much."
In the weeks that followed, he often came to us and told all, or part of it again and again. Always the story remained the same. The details were never changed or out of order. A few times he added further bits of information and clarified the message he had already delivered. It never ceased to amaze us how he could tell such detail and speak beyond his ability.
Everywhere he went, he told strangers about the "birdies." Surprisingly, no one ever looked at him strangely when he did this. Rather, they always got a softened look on their face and smiled. Needless to say, we have not been the same ever since that day, and I pray we never will be.
I testify that the things that I have shared with you today are true.
From: Rab Allan
Date: Wed, 15 Jul 1998
Subject: Jesus Is Lord
A Testimony To The Love Of Jesus Christ
My name is Rab Allan and I live in Kirriemuir, Scotland. I'm 28 years old, married with two sons, David, Robbie, and a daughter, Talitha Rebekah. My wife Freda and I have been Christians since 1994. I became a Christian whilst in prison, after a life of violence, drug taking and abuse.
I was brought up the youngest of a family of ten; six boys and four girls. Violence and drunkenness had always been a part of family life, with my father being an alcoholic, and my brothers following closely on his heels. Physical and mental abuse was rife in the family from my father, especially after a drinking bout, which was every day and night. I often saw my mother being beat up by my father, which just helped to fuel my anger and hatred towards him. Quite often I would beg my mother to divorce him, but to this day she never has. I can't ever remember playing a game with my father like any other kid.
I started in a life of crime as young as 12, with shoplifting and stealing cars. I was in a gang in my teens called the "Elm Street Grave Diggers," always fighting other gangs with anything that came to hand. I was eventually put on probation. It was during this time that I looked at my mother and saw the worry that I was giving her, so I decided that I would never bring the police to her door again. My mother being of strong character, never drank or turned to drugs.
After my commitment to stop the trouble, I became involved heavily with youth work, and became a figure within the community for fighting for the youth. As a member of one group we fought for a youth centre (which we got) to take the youth off the street. At the age of 17 I went to Africa on an expedition to help build bridges and teach. On my return, I started again in the youth work and worked with organisations, such as The Princes Trust, Duke of Edinburgh and some others. My career in youth work seemed eminent.
At 23, I was going steady with Freda, and we both started working at the youth centre which we had fought for, on a part-time basis. After a short time, I was accused of theft and sacked. Knowing that these allegations were wrong, and being sacked from something that I loved doing, filled me with anger and complete bitterness. I then went into a vicious circle of drugs, crime, sex and violence, thinking that this is what life was all about.
I became involved with some people who soon looked upon me as a leading figure, because of my ability to organise. Soon I was planning robberies and drug deals, and went deeper and deeper into despair. I tried to keep my hard man image up, and violence became a part of my life. Everything that I ever hated, I became. I was arrested and put on remand in prison for eight months, acquitted and within two months I was back in doing five years for assault with fire arms. After six months at Barlinnie, I was moved to Shotts, but whilst I was at Barlinnie, a minister appeared one day at my cell, and told me that a friend of mine said that I had an interest in the Bible and asked if I would like to go to a Bible discussion. I impolitely told him no, until he mentioned tea and chocolate biscuits. This being unheard of in Barlinnie, I decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.
When I was at the Bible discussions, I would sometimes try to put the minister down with silly comments about God, but one day I asked if I could have one of the Bibles and a booklet called "Ultimate Questions" by John Blanchard, which I was given. I tried many times to read them, but just could not understand what it was all about. So my life continued with drugs. Taking drugs for a high, and selling or swapping them for extra luxuries. After my transfer to Shotts, I thought that I would make a name for myself, and had threatened one of the officers that he was going to lose an eye. Such was the madness and insanity that I was living in, that I had no feelings for anyone, neither my family, friends nor myself for that matter. People to me were worth less than items. I had lost all respect for anyone or anything. My reputation had to be sustained at all costs. I thank God that He got to me before I got to that officer or anyone else.
I was in my cell alone one evening after lock up. It was summer nights, so I had the light off, had put on some music, taken a trip (acid tablet) and waited for the trip to take effect. I never did get that trip. Instead, what I got was Jesus Christ. I heard a voice like a thought saying "turn on the light," but I refused to turn it on, preferring the darkness that I so much enjoyed. Several times I heard this thought, and eventually I turned on the light, not knowing that the light that the voice was speaking of was the light of Christ. I found myself on the floor amongst all the dirt, with the Bible and booklet that I had been given at Barlinnie. I read the booklet about five times, and didn't know what it meant. Finally I was ready to give up when I noticed a small passage at the bottom of the page of "Ultimate Questions" which said that if I didn't understand what the message was, to ask God to show me. So I decided to try, and I asked God to show me the meaning. I then read the booklet again, asking questions out loud, and I started getting answers. The Bible became alive, and Jesus revealed Himself to me in that lonely dark prison cell. I couldn't comprehend how simple it was to be saved from hell. I asked Jesus to forgive me and come into my life, which He did. My whole cell glowed, and I also glowed. My experience of Jesus was similar to that of the Apostle Paul on the Damascus road. This took place over a period of about ten hours between Saturday and Sunday.
On the Sunday morning, I requested for the first time in my life to go to church. When I got there, the minister was telling the story of the prodigal son returning to the father. That evening I returned to my Father. The road I was on led to death and destruction, and I was responsible for it. The road that I'm on now is the only way to Heaven and Eternal life. That Way is Jesus Christ (John 14:6). You see He gave His life for you on a cross, to take the punishment of death that you rightly deserved. He was thrown in prison, tortured, spat on, mocked, whipped and crucified all for being innocent. Jesus was the Perfect Sacrifice. He was without sin, but took our sin upon Himself, but it doesn't end there at the cross. After three days He rose again, showing that His death satisfied the penalty for our sins. Jesus is Alive. Don't take my word for it. Take your own. Being a Christian isn't an easy ride, but a more often a rough one, but we are given the peace and ability to endure the hard times when they come. I received Freedom whilst in prison, but you don't need to be in a jail to be a prisoner. "If you confess with your mouth, Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you WILL be saved" (Romans 10:9).
Maybe you can relate to this story. Maybe you too have been through the same abuse. Maybe you have been involved in crime, and were afraid to back out. It's easy to put on a hard man image, but it's hard to admit when you're wrong. Maybe you're sick of being what everyone expects you to be. Well, God wants you as you are, and will accept you as you are.
If you were to die this evening, would you know where you are going? Do you want to know that you are going to Heaven? All who want to go to Heaven "must be Born Again." There is only one way to heaven. Jesus said, "I am the Way, the Truth and the life, no man comes to the Father but by me" (John 14:2,6). Do you know the One who died on the cross for you? Jesus said, "Except a man be Born Again he cannot see the kingdom of God" (John3:3). What does He mean? He means a spiritual birth where a person confesses his sins to Jesus Christ and accepts Him as Saviour. I am not talking about religion. What I am talking about is a real and living relationship with a real, living and loving God. This is the Gospel. You don't need fancy words to talk to God. After all, He knows more about you than you do. You could say this simple prayer with all your heart:
Lord Jesus Christ, I believe that you died for me. I acknowledge that I am a sinner and I can't save myself. Please save me and forgive my sins. Lord take control of my life. Amen.
If you prayed this prayer with your heart, you are now a child of God. The Bible says, "Let us not give up meeting together." Hebrews 10:25 therefore you should now tell someone of your commitment.
If you would like to know more about becoming a Christian, or, if you have recently become a Christian, and need someone to talk to, then you can contact me on: (01575) 575 943 or you can E-mail me at SoloCom@aol.com
From: Glenda Kemmitz
Subject: unconditional love
Date: Fri, 12 Jun
In 1977, my eldest child - a daughter of eighteen, was brutally murdered by her husband (suspected--but never proven), and I was devastated. He had gotten her into the drug scene and later into prostitution. As a Christian I had been praying for God to intervene, and when she was killed, I blamed God and was angry at Him, feeling He could have prevented this--but didn't. For years I was plagued with all the question--why-why did this happen, why didn't God answer my prayers, why wasn't there justice. I prayed and prayed but could not find any peace. I began drinking and became an alcoholic and my husband who at the time was in the ministry, could not help me. One day God began dealing with me on His "unconditional love" and opened up my understanding as to its meaning. Not only this, but also His unconditional forgiveness. St. Luke 6:37 says, "Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemed: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven:" I was able to turn all my anger, fear and resentments over to God at that point and the sweetest peace swept over me. I still have sadness when I remember all this, yet God is always present and I am able to let go. His love is sufficient. Thanks for letting me share.
From: Scott Johnson
Date: Tuesday, January 27, 1998
A missionary on furlough told this true story while visiting his home church in Michigan.
While serving at a small field hospital in Africa, every two weeks I traveled by bicycle through the jungle to a nearby city for supplies. This was a journey of two days and required camping overnight at the halfway point.
On one of these journeys, I arrived in the city where I planned to collect money from a bank, purchase medicine and supplies, and then begin my two-day journey back to the field hospital.
Upon arrival in the city, I observed two men fighting, one of whom had been seriously injured. I treated him for his injuries and at the same time witnessed to him of the Lord Jesus Christ. I then traveled two days, camping overnight, and arrived home without incident.
Two weeks later I repeated my journey. Upon arriving in the city, I was approached by the young man I had treated. He told me that he had known I carried money and medicines. He said, "Some friends and I followed you into the jungle, knowing you would camp overnight. We planned to kill you and take your money and drugs. But just as we were about to move into your camp, we saw that you were surrounded by 26 armed guards."
At this I laughed and said that I was certainly all alone out in that jungle campsite. The young man pressed the point, however, and said, "No sir, I was not the only person to see the guards. My five friends also saw them, and we all counted them. It was because of those guards that we were afraid and left you alone."
At this point in the sermon, one of the men in the congregation jumped to his feet and interrupted the missionary and asked if he could tell him the exact day that this happened.
The missionary told the congregation the date and the man who interrupted told him this story: "On the night of your incident in Africa, it was morning here and I was preparing to go and play golf. I was about to putt when I felt the urge to pray for you. In fact, the urging of the Lord was so strong I called men in this church to meet with me here in the sanctuary to pray for you. Would all of those men who met with me on that day stand up?"
The men who had met together that day stood up. The missionary wasn't concerned with who they were--he was too busy counting how many men he saw. There were 26.
Date: 31 Jul 97
From: Robert Mark Porter
One of Hitler's body guards, Kurt Wagner, was on his way to a bridge to commit suicide. His god (Hitler) was gone, his home had been destroyed, his city was in shambles. He was seen by a friend, not knowing what was on Kurt's mind, who invited him to go to the YMCA for a doughnut and cup of coffee. Kurt did, and there he found a copy of God's Simple Plan of Salvation on the arm of an upholstered chair in the lounge.
First, he read it with disdain, knowing it came from the USA. Then, he read it with some interest. Then, he read it many times, and fell under deep conviction. He held it up and called out, "Is there anyone here who can help me understand this tract?" A Methodist minister was in the YMCA and heard his plea. He took the tract and led Kurt to the Lord.
Kurt went to Bible school and seminary. He became the pastor of two Methodist churches in the suburbs of Frankfurt. He built a four story building to take wayward young men off the streets and to reach them for the Lord.
My father went to visit Kurt in 1956. They were thrilled to pray together and rejoice in the things of the Lord. In 1960, a family in our church contacted Kurt to visit their 18-year-old soldier boy stationed in Frankfurt and who was out of fellowship with the Lord. This young man could hardly believe his eyes. He told Kurt, "All my life I have heard the name of Kurt Wagner, saved through reading the tract my pastor had written and now here you are in my presence trying to get me back to the Lord." It worked. This young man is now 55 and is serving the Lord in a church here in Indianapolis.
Very sincerely yours in Christ,
Robert Ford Porter, litt.D., Chairman
From: Jeremy G.
Date: Thu, 25 Apr
I once was in bondage to many drugs for years: PCP, LSD, marijuana, alcohol, cocaine, crack, mushrooms, etc.- basically anything outside of needles and I was driven by my lust. I wanted gratification but all of it was temporal. Sex, money, and drugs never satisfied me. I always wanted more.
I went to church pursuing a woman I liked. I was looking for some type of love that would take away the emptiness I always carried with me. I heard someone preaching about Jesus. I knew He is what I needed. Only His love could satisfy the broken heart I had, only his healing could minister to all my hurts, only His power could break the chains of my bondage.
I was like the 'Prodigal Son', I looked where I was at, and remembered my heavenly Father's great love for me. I hesitated no further and walked to the front of the meeting room for prayer.It has been 4 years since that day. My brain had gone through so much abuse. The years of heavy PCP and crack use had made me slow to speak and think. God gave me a new heart and restored my mind.
God has now blessed me with a godly wife (July 95) and I now expecting a baby this July (96). I have just graduated from college with a 3.6 GPA and I just give him all the glory.
I know that I know that God is more than able to change any life! He is a God that forgives, heals, and restores.
From: Robert Williams
Date: Mon, 22 Apr
In early February, of 1990, I sat at a table playing a game called Risk and taking a drug called magic mushrooms. little did I know that my so called friends were something more. I began to feel funny and had this strange voice in my head telling me "You're dead! You're dead!" Over and over it streamed through my head, "Your dead!" I could not shake it. I kept looking up at these people wandering what is going on. But, they would just shake their heads and look down.
I started feeling worse so I got up and feel flat on my face. I eventually woke up finding myself on their kitchen floor. Nobody did anything but just sat there. I got up walked to their couch and sat down. I remember asking one of them what was going on? He just said, "It's coming back so you better leave."
Well, I left and went home, not knowing what was going on! I dabbled in the occult and drugs, but I never thought that this would happen. I was only twenty years old at the time and didn't want to die! At that time I was dealing with alot of thoughts about God & Satan, but I wanted to party, also. But it had a price!
I entered my room and tried to fight this feeling of my life being drained out of me, but it didn't work. I ended up getting my dad and asking him to pray with me. My dad insisted he take me to the hospital because my heart was racing so fast. So, as I walked out of my house with the Bible in my hand I simply asked, "Please God, help me!" and He did.
I went to the hospital and they found nothing wrong, my heart was acting normal, the darkness was gone, the drug addiction was gone, everything had been made new. And Jesus is closer than a brother!
Date: Fri Mar 15
A little over 18 years ago, I was at a point in my life that is reflected in the old song "Is that all there is?"
I was in my late 20s, married, with a young son but something was missing. My husband and I were unfortunately into the "modern" free thinking and pornography.
We had a couple who we were close friends over and had a few too many to drink. Looking to see what was missing we started down the wrong path. But even then God had His hand on me just as He protected Sarah when passed off as Abraham's sister.
I got sick and "woke" up half way around our block. I woke up also to the fact that that was NOT what was missing in my life!
The Lord then sent us to a "Marriage Encounter" weekend and we knew that God was missing. But there was no one there to tell us how to find Him.
The Lord then sent my cousins on vacation to visit us, they gave us the Gospel. Both my husband and I received Him at that time. We have never even looked back. We both serve the Lord in our home and church.
We have been through the furnace. Isaiah 48:10 - "Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver, I have tested you in the furnace of affliction." We can only give all praise and glory to THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY!!
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