A silky hand brushed my arm, gently nudging me forward. Soft whispers followed me along the brilliant corridor. Everything glittered. A jagged opalescent light filled my vision—beckoning me closer. As it grew, it drew me into an expansive cloud of pure white smoke.
The walkway beneath my feet glistened in gold--translucent and mysterious. Jeweled walls with twelve tiers of twelve different precious stones captivated my imagination, surrounding me with an artist’s palette of colors.
I trembled, uncertain of what lay beyond. Fear and anticipation gripped me.
A soothing voice, clear and commanding, engraved these words upon my heart. “Dear child, come closer. You do not need to be afraid. I AM. From the beginning to the end, I am your God, the Lord of your salvation. Welcome to the Library of Life. Assembled within this room is the wisdom of the ages—the secrets of life revealed.”
A figure began to form amidst the radiance and I saw the Almighty God, His hand extended out to me. Awe overwhelmed me—this was My Lord. All I could do was fall face down in worship, my arms reaching out to His. My emptiness longed for His filling. His sweet presence overflowed within my soul.
“Child, your name is written in the Book of Life. The library and all it contains are your rewards. As an heir to my kingdom, you have an eternity to browse these shelves.” His hand swept the vast expanse of the room, which had neither a beginning nor an end.
I slowly looked up. Volumes of golden-bound books were stacked higher than I could envision. Tablets, scrolls, and writings from throughout history lined the walls.
“Come, follow me.” Soft arms enfolded me. Downy feathers brushed my face as I was lifted up and placed near the glory of the Lord.
The Lord watched, with pleasure, as I perused the titles. A host of seraphim accompanied Him, singing all the while, “Holy, Holy, Holy, is His Name.” The delicate praises brought tears to my eyes as I realized that this humble sinner was walking beside the Creator of the universe—the Curator of the Library of Life. Nothing had prepared me for this aspect of heaven.
“Lord, your library is a marvel. Where do I begin?”
“Besides all the writings and thoughts of man, the Library of Life contains answers to all the mysteries of life as I created it.”
My eyes scanned the first titles I saw. Some contained questions—weighty mysteries about which all believers wondered and only God could answer.
As I opened up each book, I found blank pages. Puzzled, I closed the book and my mind overflowed with the wisdom of the ages—answers to those questions became part of me. Exhilaration and ecstasy abounded.
Looking further, I saw golden bindings with names of early church fathers and famous leaders: Ambrose, Augustine, Ignatius, Jerome, Tertullian, and the apostles. Names of other saints also appeared: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, William Booth, Jonathan Edwards, Martin Luther, and Charles Wesley. I noticed unfamiliar names among the ranks of greatness as well. And then I saw my name. With trepidation, I reached for the book and opened it. A moving picture of my disappointing life appeared in my mind’s eye and abruptly stopped. My story was not finished.
“No, my child, your story is not yet at an end. You must return in order to finish writing it.” Bewilderment assaulted my mind. What was I doing here?
“Share what you’ve seen here so others may know Me.” Experiencing the most deep felt embrace of love, the Lord’s eyes caressed me and His glory faded from view.
Clouded darkness began to replace the magnificent light. My heart ached and my eyelids began to flutter. Gradually, my eyes opened, straining to focus through the new found darkness to a flickering light in the distance.
“Jenny.” Two gentle hands grasped mine and squeezed.
Turning my head, my eyes struggled again to focus. This time . . . on the loving face of my mother.
Tears of relief spilled down her cheeks. “Jenny, you have been in a coma for several days.”
I struggled to reply, but words would not form for the coma had slowed my reflexes. Tears flowed freely. There was so much to tell her. I’m sorry for the drugs. I’m sorry for my disobedience. In time I would tell her of God’s special gift to me—my second chance at life.
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