I believed my feet were making contact with the jeweled pavement below, but I couldn’t feel them. It’s as if I
were floating. My eyes were still adjusting after entering through the huge gates bedazzled with emeralds.
I had carefully followed the golden footsteps left by the Apostle Paul, and was consumed with that, when I
looked up to see Jesus holding forth His hand to lead me on a tour of the mansions. Glancing ahead, I knew
He was simultaneously still seated on the enormous throne, but I had already quickly come to accept the
unexpected. The enormous throne was always in front of us, no matter from what direction, and no souls
were ever able to turn their backs to it. Before it, were thousands of angels perpetually dancing on the
Crystal Sea. Just how big was God anyway?
Jesus’ eyes were red and piercing, although kindly, and His hair pure white. As I placed my hand in His, a
warm sensation flooded my body. I sensed I was in my physical body but, I wasn’t seeing it when I looked
down. We began walking hand in hand down the beautiful golden street, flanked by mansions on each side;
thousands upon thousands as far as the eye could see. Still beyond, there was a second city, an extension
of this one, because Jesus had waited until every wandering soul had come to Him. Each glorious mansion
was unique and each with seven rooms. There were no rooftops on any of them because they were covered
by the mantle of the Holy Spirit. Precious sparkling jewels adorned each one. I encouraged myself, and
humbly asked if I would be allowed to peer into some rooms, and Jesus said “of course.”
Upon entering one mansion, the first chamber we came upon was occupied by Joan of Arc. She was
absorbed in quiet conversation with a group of medieval saints, including Thomas Aquinas and Anselm of
Canterbury. They briefly looked up and graciously smiled, giving honor to King Jesus and greeting me by
name. Their demeanor was mellow and peaceful, and they quickly returned to their important conversation.
I couldn’t hear what they were discussing. I don’t think I was meant to.
Just how did they happen to know my name, I wonder?
The second room seemed to me as though it were a huge banquet hall, yet it really must have been a library,
for there were countless manuscripts and parchments strewn on tables and nestled in bookshelves all about,
perhaps millions of them. Books, many of them ancient, were in stacks higher than I could see, and I was
sure that I saw Moses sitting at a table far away, diligently concentrating; penning something. There were
monks throughout, busying themselves with translating scrolls once lost to humanity, and Clement of
Alexandria was sharing a story with saints gathered at his feet, eagerly listening to every word.
We walked on.
Arriving at the third room I saw hundreds upon hundreds of missionaries martyred throughout the ages.
They were rejoicing because they had been able to give their lives in the service of the Lord, and were
pleased that Jesus was showing me about. I saw Mother Theresa among them, and a group of Auca Indians
from the Ecuadorian rain forests sitting with the very missionaries whom they had once slain. All were now as
one in Christ. The missionaries indicated that they would willingly give up their lives again for the precious
converts. I could sense the love in the room.
Overwhelmed, yet filled with anticipation, I asked if I could see into the remaining rooms of this one mansion.
“Of course”. The occupants of next room could be heard before seen. It was so full of jubilation that I could
hardly hear myself think. There were only two people in the center of this room, but it seemed as though
there were thousands. I saw golden footprints everywhere, and knew it would have to be the Apostle Paul
within. He and Saint Stephen, once martyred in the presence of Paul, were praising God, and delighted that
they were true overcomers and best friends for all eternity. I could see thousands of souls surrounding the
perimeter of the room, all thankful for their great salvation through the faithfulness of these two men. They
were effortlessly floating about, speaking in a plethora of tongues of earth and heaven, yet everyone
comprehending each other. It was truly a room of unending praise to the Lamb of God.
The fifth room was somber and loving. Rizpah was sitting between her two beloved sons, reunited at last.
They were in prayerful appreciation, giving honor to God for their redemption. Jesus didn’t want to disturb
them, for they were enjoying the reunion and healing they had so long waited for, so we continued to the next
room. I felt refreshed and well satisfied in the salvation of the Lord.
If I were capable of being shocked, this would have been a good time. The compassion of a loving and
gentle God was so evident in the next room, which was occupied to capacity with His little ones. The endless
expanse was filled with millions of unborn babies. Some were at one time only barely formed, yet now they
were all beautiful babies of God, completely restored and healthy. They had been aborted. There was no
crying in the vast room – just little giggles and happy smiles. Most of their mothers weren’t with them, and
they were being attended by spinster women who had dedicated their lives to serving the Lord Jesus. These
saintly ladies were now their caregivers, and they were delighted with their duties. They waved to us and
smiled broadly. The room had a feeling of immeasurable happiness. Jesus said that he didn’t condemn the
mothers, for they didn’t realize what they were doing, but it was sad that they couldn’t be there to care
for their babies.
Ezekiel and Obadiah had passed us by on the golden street, deeply engaged in conversation, and I could
see a gathering of Jews up ahead who had come to know Jesus as Messiah while in concentration camps. In
whatever unfamiliar tongue they were speaking, I somehow understood what they were saying. I still couldn’t
feel my feet beneath me. As we approached the final room, I sensed that something was different, but I
couldn’t place it. When we entered the room, a sense of reward flooded me; a warmth and a satisfaction
prevailed. It was my room, and saints who had helped form my life were there to greet me.
And this is how it went: my life flashing right before me. There was Frank, the man responsible for my coming
to Christ as Savior while I was just a teenager. And so was Jack, founder of Word Of Life, who encouraged
me to share my testimony at a huge rally in Boston and over the airwaves. Friends from Moody and Bob
Jones were there – Denny, Jim, and Jerry. From MCC there was Jerry who told me about Shekinah. Brant,
my friend and faith healer was there too. The early saintly ministers from MCC were there – Troy, Don, and
Lee. Joan, my minister friend from Holy Trinity was there, and I saw my pastor and friend Nancy who
encouraged me toward the end of my life. All of these people were the corner posts in my moving forward
as a Christian.
I strolled further into the chamber, for no less important were my mother Priscilla and father Dick. And my
Aunt Kathy who I admired so much. My close friend Ruth was there, along with my pals Bob, Randy, Michael,
and Jerry. And smiling, was my partner Vince, who journeyed most of my life with me. He came forward to
join me, slipping his hand in mine, just as I noticed that Jesus had withdrawn to leave me with my mentors.
What memories flooded my head. A sense of thankfulness encompassed me. Jesus had been pleased that
He was honored and uplifted in my life. O, if I could only have done more, but I couldn’t recall my regrets.
Perhaps they were no longer. I was truly thankful that Jesus had died in my place on the cross of Calvary.
Salvation was definitely underrated.