CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWO

One second I was walking across that wet grass toward Heather’s bike, totally focused on the task at hand — getting that bike in out of the rain.

. . . The next second it seemed I was standing in a totally gorgeous place I had never been before. All I can say is I felt great, on top of the world. I felt as good as I had ever felt in my life. All around me was indescribable beauty. Trees, flowers, grass of intense brilliant colors filled my vision. “Man, this is great,” I said to myself.

There was a street or a road that went down into a beautiful valley. The street was yellow like gold but transparent. It was like I was near a cliff or drop off into the valley below.

I seemed to be standing on the street corner in a city. There were buildings and sidewalks. People were walking with purpose as if they had places to go, things to do. They were busy doing things it seemed, important things. And they seemed happy with pleasant expressions of their faces. Some looked at me and smiled.

The very atmosphere was peace. I experienced deep, overwhelming peace I had never known before. I felt as if I belonged here, that no one would come up and say, “Get out. You’re an intruder.” There was nothing to worry about, no thought of care or anxiety there. I was not aware of time. I think maybe that’s why I felt so free. There was no pressure of time as there is on earth.

I knew where I was. I just knew. It was like I had access to knowledge there that I didn’t have on earth. I had read a book about people dying and going through a tunnel toward a bright light. At that time the thought filled me with dread. I said, “Lord, isn’t there some other way?” I have claustrophobia and the very idea of a tunnel had filled me with dread.

But for me it was just like the Bible said.... absent from the body, present with the Lord. I was suddenly here in this wonderful place. And now I was drinking it all in.

I noticed no difference. As far as I was concerned I was there in my body. Although now I know my body was lying on the ground lifeless in Magellan’s yard.

I heard footsteps behind me. “Hello, Robert,” someone said.

Only one person called me Robert. Everyone else called me Bobby. I turned to look. It was my dad, Marion Brunson, who had died four months earlier. He smiled and I can only say his expression was one I had seen many times before. In church he would sing, “Peace, peace wonderful peace, coming down from the Father above.” Then he would start speaking in his heavenly language and I knew he was having a special time of communion with the Lord.

He smiled. “How are you doing, Robert?” It was like we were having this conversation in his living room at home, like there had been no lapse of time since we last talked. It seemed completely normal. We talked comfortably, just as we had talked at home, but I don’t remember what was said until he said, “Robert are you still grumbling and complaining?”

Now I wonder how he knew. But the Bible does say we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. Somehow, what I was doing on earth was of concern to him here in Heaven.

On earth he had always stopped me when I started to grumble and complain about the church and what was going on that did not please me. But after he died I was bold in making my complaints known. I didn’t like what was going on, and I didn’t care who knew it.

Now he said, “Robert, I taught you better than that. Pray for your church and your pastor. What it would take you two years to accomplish God can do in two minutes.” I did not feel that Dad was being harsh or chastising me. He was just telling me the truth in love. He was offering his wisdom to counsel me, just as I had sought so many times on earth.

That conversation changed me. Once back on earth I realized how right my dad was. If I did not feel good about something that was happening, I should pray about it and ask God to do a work in the life of the pastor and in my life. It is up to God to judge His servants. My task is to lift them up in prayer, not to judge and condemn.

And if I cannot get into agreement with what is going on in my church, I must leave it rather than create division and disunity.

As my dad was talking to me, I knew somehow that we were both here because we were children of God. His role as my father had fallen away even though he was now counseling me about an earthly problem. He was not more important than I here. We were equal as children of God.

We stood there on the corner. My dad motioned toward some people in the distance. “Do you recognize those men?” I saw Kay’s father, Mr. Cunningham, and Mr. Segars, a board member at our church who had died about ten years before. They were in a sort of valley but I couldn’t go there for some reason. “Yes, that’s Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Segars,” I said.

Actually it seemed as if I knew several of the people who were walking around on the street. It was like I belonged in this place. Somehow, it seemed comfortable and familiar.

Dad and I were standing there looking and I was enjoying the scenery and taking everything in. From where we were standing it was like we were near the edge of a cliff or a drop off. I could see out across a beautiful valley to green mountains on the other side. Built on the sides of those mountains were what looked like white mansions. I wondered if those were the mansions Jesus had been busy building for his family, “preparing a place” for us. As I was drinking in the beauty surrounding me, I felt someone else walk up. . .