When the angel encounters started, Andrew Aggrey cut the partying and insincere Christianity. The supernatural visions came regularly, but nothing prepared him for his visionary descent into hell.
“I feel this magnet power pull me down,” Andrew says on a Delafe video. “The only way I can really describe it is a dark vortex. Imagine skydiving at nighttime without the fun. And boom I land in hell. And I know exactly where I am.”
Because he had heard of others who visited Hell, he inexplicably asked God if he could experience it himself. He believes God gave him the experience to warn others about the danger beyond the grave.
Andrew grew up in a Christian household. But as with many other young people who grow up in a Christian family, he suffered from the “my parents’ faith” syndrome. He lacked a wholehearted relationship with God.
At college, he threw himself into drinking, drugs and clubs. He had no doubt God was real but felt no compulsion to serve Him.
“I had the awareness of God, but I still kind of wanted to live my own life.” Andrew says.
But when the pandemic hit, he found himself locked up at home with tons of time to read. He read the Bible. Then the dreams began.
The first was an angel that guided him through a house with opening doors. He realized it was an angel because when he tried to worship it (thinking it might be Jesus), the angel stopped him from doing so.
It was an emotional encounter, but when he tried to share about it with his family, he felt like they doubted its legitimacy.
Another encounter was with Jesus. In his dream, the Lord walked past him. He had previously struggled with childhood rejections. In this case, he felt rejected by Jesus. “Lord, do you not love me?” he pleaded.
Then Jesus looked at him, and there was no doubt.
“He didn’t say anything to me, but the look was enough,” Andrew says. “Just looking in his eyes, face to face, was enough. I knew… Read the rest: Vision of Hell.
For decades, scientists sneered at Near Death Experiences – or NDEs – because they didn’t fit the empirical-evidence, materialistic model of “hard” science.
The trouble with that shrug-off is that there are so many NDEs and they are so varied it is hard to blame an overactive imagination, religious fanaticism and grand-standing for all of them. There are too many cases for science to objectively ignore.
A $5.1 million grant to the University of California Riverside now is validating topics that Christians have harkened to keenly for decades: eyewitness accounts of existence beyond the stopped heartbeat.
“Given that NDEs have been reported throughout history and across cultures, and because they appear to be a portal to a beautiful immortality, they are of tremendous interest throughout history and currently,” says UCR’s Philosophy Professor John Martin Fischer, who administers the grant.
Professor Fischer’s work surveys and consolidates all credible accounts of NDE. He cites Dutch Cardiologist Pim van Lommel, who after listening to patients relate their experiences after being resuscitated from cardiac arrest, compiled accounts for 26 years and organized them in a systematic way.
“Van Lommel has observed that (the people who experience) NDEs have significant transformational effects,” Fischer says on a 2018 Univ. of California, Riverside video. “These individuals have less death anxiety and are more spiritual. They appreciate relationships more, spending more time with family, friends and relatives.
“They are also more compassionate and more attuned to morality and justice,” he adds. “The transformations are often profound.”
Fischer’s work is significant to the Christian community not because every account fits nicely into Biblical orthodoxy (some do, some don’t), but because his academic rigor brings scientific backing to the simple notion of an afterlife.
After all, if it can be established that humans enter eternity, then one can debate about which faith has the correct version.
Not everyone who comes back from death tells the same story. But most share these elements: an out-of-body experience, a guided journey, unconditional love and acceptance, a dark tunnel with a light at the end, a life review and a reformed life for the person revived from death, Fischer says.
Most NDEs describe a paradise environment, if not exactly the Bible’s Heaven. But roughly 10% are not positive experiences – something like Hell, Fischer states. The real number of negative NDEs may be larger because of the shame associated with telling others that you were judged unworthy to go to the Good Place, he adds.
Most NDEs tell of unverifiable events, but extraordinarily others relate conversations between doctors and nurses when medically the patient had flatlined and scientifically was unconscious and dead, Fischer says.
“The fact that these NDEs can be checked against the facts and have very similar content at least suggest that the NDEs that cannot be independently corroborated must be taken seriously,” Fischer says.
Dr. Eben Alexander, a neurosurgeon, wrote about his experiences being “in a beautiful and incredible dream world that wasn’t a dream” in his book, Proof of Heaven, which sold three million copies.
Dr. Alexander was in a coma at the time as he flew around with his sister on the wing of a butterfly in an intricately designed surface with indescribable colors and millions of butterflies “more real than the chair I sit in, more real than the log in the fireplace,” Alexander says.
Fischer in his presentation also referenced Colton Burpo, the four-year-old who died and met the Trinity in Heaven and even a miscarried sister, of whom he had no knowledge until he told his parents after he recovered from the surgery.
“There’s lots and lots of reports and it’s often difficult to explain them in a naturalistic way,” Fischer says. “The experiences are remarkable in their universality and at least appear to be a portal to an afterlife, another realm, usually a peaceful Heavenly realm.” Read the rest: the science of NDEs
Especially since the sugar and lard cinnamon buns from across town are such an overload, Eclair Bakeryin Arroyo Grande is a positive relief for treat-seekers who don’t want an immediate cardiac arrest over a simple muffin.
My wife and I discovered Eclair Bakery by chance taking a stroll down Arroyo Grande (right next to Pismo Beach). It turns out there are some quaint spots for tourists off the main drag of Pismo that are worth poking around.
In this case, it is worth the very short drive OUT of Pismo to Arroyo Grande — or AG, as locals call it. Eclair doesn’t dump sugar and lard on their pastries. But they don’t hold back the butter.
The result is that treats are not so sweet but still mouth-wateringly delicious.
I had the blueberry scone. I can never resist a scone. These were HUGE. I couldn’t believe how big they were. With a decent cup of Joe, I was in Heaven.
My wife ordered the coconut macaroons, which must be the biggest on the planet. There are two varieties, simple and covered in chocolate (not a thin layer).
The cupcakes were enticing, but we couldn’t eat everything there in just one day.
This spot has got to be THE PLACE you visit when you go to Pismo Beach.
117 W. Branch St.
Arroyo Grande, CA 93420
The author sells 10-inch bamboo steamers on Amazon to broaden your culinary cooking experience. They are great for vegetables, fish and especially Chinese buns and dumplings that can be picked up frozen in specialty food markets and warmed to perfection, almost as good as the restaurant.
Not one but two of my kids now work at Starbucks, which is either my favorite or second favorite thing (with burritos) (excluding God and marriage, of course). When Rebekah makes me a coffee, she puts in extra shots of expresso. And that makes me say: PRAISE the LORD!
I personally don’t ascribe to the sad theological opinion that there’s no food or drink in Heaven. If you don’t want to eat or drink there, I’m sure God will make provision for you to do some eternal fasting. But the Biblical reasons are deductions, not outright statements, and the problem with deductions is that we can arrive at our conclusions by defective argumentation. Since I think Heaven is wonderful and food is wonderful, I see the two things merging in ways we cannot imagine.
When it comes time to teaching my high school students what “paradox” means, I turn to the gospels because Jesus relished using them. How can you lose yourself and thus find yourself? It doesn’t make immediate sense, and the carnal mind will never comprehend.
God doesn’t work by contract. He doesn’t tell us what all the perks are. He expects us to live by faith. Your boss, on the other hand, is probably not going to give you a dime more than what’s in the contract. When you serve God, He simply asks you to lose yourself for the gospel.
Then He blesses you more than you can imagine. Of course, if you scoff at this and don’t try it out, you will never see the spiritual law activated when you give to God.
My dad is in a transitional care facility. He had fallen and broken his hip. He was transferred from the hospital to here. He was in a lot of pain last night. He’s 88.
I’m face to face with our body’s breakdown and mortality. We all expect a long life, but no one has a guarantee. Are you ready to go to the Heaven God made for you because He wants to enjoy friendship with you for all of eternity?
It’s a hipster restaurant, so the bread comes in brown paper bags. Rebekah and Hosea show the best way to eat the bread.
My tastebuds were startled.
I always avoided Italian restaurants. Why pay for pasta and tomato sauce when you can do that at home? But Dianna’s company party dashed my mantra. It was at Terroni in Downtown Los Angeles.
I’d never tasted anything like it, and we followed up with a family outing to the one in the Melrose District. (We usually don’t go to pricey restaurants — or much to even restaurants because of our family budget, but this was time to celebrate.)
Rebekah described the tiramisu as a spoonful of Heaven, and, yes, delightful spoonfuls is what I am expecting in Heaven. (You should too. Make your reservation in Heaven today by accepting Jesus into your heart.)
The pizza is super-thin crust thick on ingredients. The pasta surprises with tantalizing taste. Yummy salads and beef. The ingredients are from Calabria, Italy, where the founder is originally from (his restaurant chain is based in Toronto). I had never heard of Calabria.
Anytime I learn something new or try something new, I experience delight. I think this is a key to my writing and my outlook in life. There will be endless delights in Heaven.
The latest rage is no longer glass bridges and glass platforms extended out from skyscrapers or canyon edges over the hair-raising expanse. The latest rage is sky pools. But only the wealthiest can enjoy them.
I think it’s as much to show off as the thrill of swimming in the air: not just feeling like Superman but flaunting Super Riches.
It’s pretty cool to look up and admire the architectural beauty in the sky.
Look up to the architectural beauty of Heaven. If earthly opulence is out of your reach, heavenly riches are within it. The pricelessness of Heaven is incalculable price free to you and me because Christ paid with his life.
It was the vacation of a lifetime. We visited Yellowstone, Arches and Zion National Parks. My kids, formerly missionary children, never before had the chance to see much of the United States. It was a great family time.
On the Yellowstone River outside of of the Park in Gardiner.
We camped and saw some of God’s wonders: rivers, waterfalls, rock formations, bisons. For two weeks, Dianna got away from engineering. We drove around some of the Western States.
This is the last ascent, along the vertebrae, to Angel’s Land in Zion National Park.
Honestly, I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to go to more and more and more national parks, which showcase God’s creation (You can say a glacier formed the canyon, but I say God used a glacier to carve it. You can praise Mother Nature, but I will praise Father God).
My daughter, Rebekah (left), with Aunt Bernice and her son, Gary
When my brother and I were little and we heard Mom and Dad were going to Europe, we were ecstatic because Aunt Bernice was coming out from East Rochester to take care of us.
She was Swedish and as sweet as a Swedish candy fish. She made Swedish meatballs and taught us how to say smooooooorgausbooooord, which I’m fairly certain I’m better at eating than pronouncing even today.
Last night, this Christian lady jumped up into Heaven, and a little piece of my heart goes with her. (Unfortunately, the majority of my heart is still here in the midst of struggles.)
I’m glad we made the effort to see her summer before last. I hadn’t been “Back” East in about 50 kabillion years. Dianna and the kids had never met that side of the family.
Many years before, my mom drove to California like so many, on an impulse, seeking a dream. She starting teaching waltz with some dance shop and eventually found my dad, who didn’t dance. Dad was a consummate engineer, so dancing was not his thing. They went to a nifty little Methodist church, where I grew up bored and rebellious. When I found out at age 12 outside of the Methodist church that Jesus wanted to enter my heart, I was understandably miffed that no one had taken the time to explain this to me before inside the church. (What did they preach there anyway? I have vague recollections that sermons were about being good people. I distinctly remember one sermon application was to NOT cut your fingernails in church and dust them off onto the floor. I don’t know why this one stuck with me all these years.)
Mom got radically saved and started serving as a volunteer chaplain in the Sylmar juvenile hall facility, which I believe is still the biggest in the nation. I became a Christian and went off to college. After, I shipped out to the mission field. After almost 16 years, we were forced back when we got swept up in the growing hurricane of drug-traffic-whipped crime in Guatemala.
The preaching switch has been turned off for four years now, and I’m wondering why. Maybe part of the reason was to see Aunt Bernice. Because God has taken the blindfold off our eyes, Christians know that death is but a door to our final destination.
It’s ironic that the Book about Heaven says scarcely anything about it. One meager chapter is about Heaven. From there, a smattering of verses. That is all. More than anything, the Book about Heaven is more about Earth than anything else. How to live on Earth in order to get to Heaven.
But what is Heaven like? The Bible says precious little. Your guess is as good as mine. Or maybe mine is better than yours. My guess is Cheesecake Factory cheesecake comes close to the delicacies we’ll enjoy there.
There are those who try to make Heaven on Earth. Well, I don’t think we should treat this planet like a disposable rag. But there is a Heaven beyond the Heaven you experience here.
I’ve heard repeatedly theologians affirm there are no dogs in Heaven. After scouring the Bible for years, I can deny this categorically. Theologians might be the people who least understand Heaven of all of us. If you love dogs, I’m sure they’ll be there.
The funny thing about my Ford Escort (year? sometime after the invention of the printing press) is that I take it to a mechanic here in Santa Monica where only Porsches, Ferraris and BMWs go. Among all these exotic toys, my humble Flintstone vehicle.
No matter. In Heaven, I’ll have a cool car or two. Why not?
So what’s your version of Heaven? Because all except sin, Heaven will be all and much more than our wildest imaginations.
Dianna’s co-worker was dumbfounded — why was Dianna not crying? Her dad had just died.
Dianna explained that 1) his passing came as no surprise, and 2) we have no doubt as to the reality of Heaven.
from Blue Pueblo
If you don’t believe in Heaven, you will try to extract every ounce of pleasure from Earth. Don’t get me wrong: I believe there’s a great taste of Heaven here. But that is just a foretaste. Those who try to experience Heaven on Earth are accepting tinsel for gold. If you don’t believe in Heaven, then you wail hopelessly upon the death of friends and family — or stiffen yourself stoically.
from Dumb a Day
The evolutionists deride Heaven. The atheists scoff. The humanists ridicule. Still the human heart yearns to believe in eternity. We are not animals. Undeniably born in the human heart is the knowledge of eternity. What we yearn for, God confirms in His Word:
My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I a.m — John 14:2-3 NIV.
We do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first — 1 Thes. 4:13, 16 NIV.
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God — Revelations 21:3 NIV.
In regards to Heaven, let me say one important thing: We eat sumptuous food in Heaven. Why should Dianna cry? Dad is in Heaven.
Stanley Yep’s greatest exploits were reduced to a photocopy that hung on the wall in his room in the rest home. Not even he knew what it meant any longer.
My father-in-law had been a big shot in LA’s Chinatown. A community watchdog and advocate, he built a sub-station for police use. He haggled with politicians for stop signs at dangerous crosswalks. He fought for neighborhood-sprucing funds to resist Chinatown’s downward spiral towards ghettodom.
For his indefatigable self-sacrifice in pro of mankind, he was named “Man of the Year” by the City of Los Angeles in 1982. As he lay dying, the newspaper clipping trumpeting his feats was pinned to the wall like a specimen. The only thing that mattered to him now was family and sleep.
Fortunately, Stan was a Christian. His departure Sunday from Earth meant his arrival in Heaven. When you think about the common denominator of death, what do earthly accomplishments, pleasure or riches signify? At best, they are a news article.
We packed Stan’s plaques, crystal glass awards gathering dust, from the shelf, into a box. There they rest. His body is being cremated and the ashes will lie in the Veteran’s Administration cemetery. A titanium identification will be placed in the urn, the only lasting memory on this planet.
But as his memory fades, He will live on in Heaven. His achievements for the gospel will be remembered.
Up to the end, Stan Yep retained his sense of humor. But life lost its taste for him.
My dad (father-in-law) died yesterday. You ought to congratulate me. He’s in Heaven.
Do people cry for a touchdown? For a grand slam? For the World Cup winning goal? Do they cry at graduations? Well, maybe they cry tears of joy.
Yet graduation to Heaven exceeds each of these earthly joys. Finally, my much-loved dad shed his decrepit body and put on his glorified form. Heaven’s for Real suggests that people get the best, youthful version of themselves in Heaven. Is Dad bowling already?
In his last days, Dad remembered his military salute. It warmed my heart.
Call me weird. But I just can’t cry. Sure, I’m going to miss him, but I have no misgivings about eternity. It seems to me that people cry only because of their doubts. I mean, if the evolutionists have it right that we are just bio mass with self consciousness until we cease to exist and get eaten by worms, then yeah, wail and howl unendingly.
The family get-togethers have been celebratory, and that seems the right way to me. No drowning sorrows with alcohol. That wasn’t Dad’s life. He lived for God.
But sorry, with due respect to all my atheistic friends — and they’re all my friends, but I can’t think for myself and subscribe to the notion that all of creation came from nothing, anymore than when I see a beautiful hotel building, I can’t believe it just formed by itself. (How does an atheist observe a funeral?)
Before my mom died, she told me she didn’t want weeping. She wanted us to dance and celebrate. She
Dad, in his final days.
would be with Jesus. Before she graduated, she had Alzheimer’s. Why would she — why would we, or anyone — want her to stay here and deteriorate? That would be like forcing her to suffer misery in an Indian slum hovel instead of living in a five-star hotel. And believe me, the five-star hotel comparison comes up short.
So I am happy today! Please don’t try to guilt me for not feeling the way you think I ought. Sincerely, I ask, if you are a true believer, why don’t you feel the way I do?