A.W. Trenholm

Journey to Heaven


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God and His many blessings on us all. How close I felt to this wonderful little family here in their cozy home.

      Joyus was particularly beautiful, and it was difficult to keep from openly staring at her. She seemed so alive and radiant, sparkling, and her eyes shone with such love and understanding. There was a great aura of gentleness and tenderness about her. I couldn’t help but gaze at her from time to time. I wondered what her life story was. Did she have a life on Earth before this one? I couldn’t just ask if she’d “been alive” before this, for certainly no life on Earth could be more “alive” than this, for this place was life itself. This seemed to be where life truly blossomed, and life on Earth was but a seedling or shadow of this greater reality. I finally mustered the courage to ask her if she’d ever lived on Earth.

      She seemed to understand instantly what I was asking, and smiled understandingly at me.

      Jamal piped in, “Yes, Mother, tell him! Tell him the story of when you were on Earth.”

      She paused a moment as though prayerfully reflecting on what would be suitable to tell me. I sensed that her story might be a difficult one to tell. Still, difficult things from one’s past did not seem like they would be difficulties in the present here, especially since everyone was able to communicate with each other so openly. I was to learn that they had wonderful attitudes even towards things that had been very terrible or unpleasant for them at the time, and more surprising, they never seemed to mind opening up their lives to others in any way that might be a help. Here there didn’t seem to really be anything that could not be talked about, if done lovingly. On Earth, many such questions would be considered rude, or prying, or too personal or painful to discuss; here, the dark or painful parts of life were replaced with joy, and washed away by the Spirit of God.

      “Well, parts of my story are not exactly pretty to tell,” she began, “but as you can see, my story does have a very happy ending.”

      “It sure does,” said Jamal.

      “A very happy ending, “Ja-al added, reaching over and squeezing her hand affectionately as their eyes met.

      Is this a love story, I wondered?

      “Yes, long ago I lived on Earth close to a small Phoenician village,” she continued. “I was just a little barefooted girl who loved to wander through the hills by myself and talk to God in my heart. I was not very much like the other children in and around the village. In fact, they were often quite cruel to me, because they saw that somehow I was different. You see, the people of my village worshipped Moloch. He is one of the Fallen Ones. Everyone in the village practiced or was forced to follow that religion, but I didn’t like it. It didn’t seem to be right. They did things that seemed very wrong to me. At a certain time of year, some of them would sacrifice their own little babies and children to a terrible image of Moloch. It was a dreadful, fiery death they put them to, casting these children into the mouth of this idol that had a fiery furnace raging within.

      “It was a terrible, terrible religion, an evil religion that called for the destruction of children. When I was sixteen, I was forced to attend one of the rituals. There, several men forced themselves on me, and in the months that followed I found I was with child. Soon everyone knew, but because I had no husband, the people said my child belonged to Moloch and must be given in sacrifice to him. I said, ‘No, this child belongs to the one true God, the Creator of all, and I will keep this child and raise it for Him.’

      “The people became very cruel to me. The more pregnant I appeared, the more pressure they put upon me to give up my child as soon as it was born. Some of the older women would even throw rocks at me and curse me when I passed by. They said I was a blasphemous child, a wicked one, and that I would bring the curses of Moloch upon them all, that he would cause the rain to stop and our crops would fail if I did not yield. They said I was selfish and didn’t love the people. But I couldn’t yield to them, for a voice in me comforted me and told me that what they were doing was wrong. So I kept fighting them and refused to give in. Even my own father did everything in his power to make me yield, for he feared the people.

      “Then one day, when bad things seemed to be happening to our village, a furious mob led by the high priest of the temple of Moloch came to our house to get me. I fought with them. They told me that if I did not yield and promise to give the fruit of my womb to Moloch, then they would be forced to cast me alive into the idol’s furnace with my unborn baby. They said they had no choice, for I was the cause of their problems and my stubbornness had brought the wrath of Moloch upon them. My father begged me to give in to their wishes and promise to give my child to Moloch, but I stood up and refused. I told them that I would rather die with my baby than give it to Moloch.

      “‘You stubborn child,’ they said, ‘why will you die?’

      “‘I will not die,’ I told them, ‘nor will my baby, but we shall live.’

      “That is the last thing I said, for they took me immediately and cast me alive into the fire. I didn’t feel any pain. The first thing I felt were two strong, loving arms around me, lifting me up and carrying me away from that place. It was my own dear guardian from God, Ja-al.”

      She turned and smiled over at her husband. I sat stunned for a moment. Ja-al had been her guardian in life-Ja-al the great warrior, defender of the weak from the wickedness of the Fallen Ones. Tears came to my eyes. It was such a wonderful love story.

      She continued, “You see, Ja-al had watched over me all my life and loved me very dearly. He was my guardian appointed to look after me. Ja-al then took me up to meet the great Prince of Heaven, and I found favor in His eyes. He counted my fight against evil as righteousness, because in my heart I was searching for the truth. So then I came to live with Ja-al, and soon I gave birth to my baby right here in this house.”

      “That was me!” Jamal said with a smile.

      “Yes, dear, that was you.” She turned and said to me, “You see, Jamal never got to be born on Earth; he is a spirit-born child.” Jamal laughed, and both of his parents smiled and laughed lovingly with him.

      I now understood why Jamal looked so different from Ja-al, yet certainly this great man had been a true father to him. But I was not quite ready for the next realization that hit me. If that baby was the same happy Jamal that was now sitting beside me … my mind was stunned! In Earth years, he would be about 3,000 years old! They must have noticed my look of complete shock, for they all suddenly burst out laughing. I had to laugh too. “Oh my!” I said. “And I thought that I was so much older than I looked in this place!”

      Jamal was eager for more stories. “Father, tell us one of the stories about the wars with the Fallen Ones.”

      The man seemed to look somewhere deep within as he recalled events long gone by. “Oh, we have had many wars,” he said. “Some battles are so critical that the Prince of the Host Himself leads an army into that region to subdue or cast down some evil principality or foil some wicked plot against one of His earthly children or one of His prophets. Shortly after your mother came here and you were born, when you were quite small, just a baby, one of the prophets of God was in trouble. The Lord sent His army to go and defend him.”

      Ja-al laughed out loud as he began to recall the events of that day. “What a day that was! On that occasion, we harnessed the horses in teams to the great war chariots. Warriors driving horses from several stables around the Kingdom gathered on the Great Plain. The Prince Himself led the charge into the dark region. Of course, no Fallen One can stand before Him when He rides into battle, for all power is given to Him in Heaven and Earth. The thunder of the horses’ feet and the rumble of the wheels of those great chariots could be heard throughout creation and the regions of time.

      “The dark forces fled in terror. Some cried, ‘This is the terrible day of the Lord! He is coming to judge the Earth!’ They ran and hid as best they could in the dens and caves and dark places of the earth. They said to the mountains, ‘Fall on us and hide us from His face!’ You should have seen them trying to hide. A few of their forces tried to resist us, but soon broke and fled.

      “What had happened, you see, was that the King of Syria, under an evil influence, had