THE VOICE AND THE VISION
Early in the month of my 41st birthday, I was admitted to the ICU at a local hospital. A tracheotomy was performed, and I was hooked up to a respirator. As I laid there, longing to go home to be with my family, I remember thinking, "What am I doing here? I just became a father and now THIS! What is the point of my life?" This is not where I wanted to be to celebrate my birthday, but there I was and come it did. In an effort to cheer me up, my wife walked in with some CD's and a portable CD player. This quickly became one way I was able to escape reality and lose myself in the music of my headphones. Inevitably, though, the music would end and I would find myself back in that cold room of the ICU at the mercy of my frail mortal shell and its current dependence on the man made breathing machine. Sometimes I would lie there and wonder where God is when we suffer. The next day I would find out. It was early morning, the day after my birthday. I was deep in my slumber with my congested lungs moving according to the rhythm of the respirator. The time for what had become the daily routine of doctors and nurses had not yet begun. Quietly, I was awakened by a low, warm, soothing Voice. "Jeff, it's time to wake up." Often I've tried to think of how I could describe this Voice. It was beautiful. Perhaps distant thunder is a good analogy. I opened my eyes expecting to see a doctor but there was no one in the room with me. Above me on the ceiling, however, was the life-size image (like a large black and white photograph) of the crucifixion of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Like the art shown, His head was down to the right and still and His eyes were closed. His muscular physique was that of a perfect human. Unlike the art and so many likenesses I've seen, He was not hanging down at all. Instead, His muscular arms were stretched tightly across the center of the cross beam forming a perfect 'T'. His broad chest was pulled taut, and you could count every rib as they rippled His tortured skin. As you'd expect, His hair was shoulder length and like His beard, was tattered from the beating of that day. Upon His head was the tightly woven crown of thorns. The vision was in shades of gray, so the blood that had dripped from the thorns in His brow appeared only as so much sweat. There was no wound in His side so I believe it must have been the moment in time He gave up His Spirit but before the Roman soldier plunged the spear into His perfect side. There He was. God's perfect Love manifested right before my eyes. To compare the image above me to the artwork here does not give the experience justice. It wasn't a painting or a photograph. It was HIM. If I was not paralyzed on my back, I would have been prostrate with my face to the ground. As I laid there in reverent silence gazing at that awesome vision, I wondered what was going on? Am I dying? No. I felt very much alive, awake and completely coherent. Should I speak? I couldn't speak. I had a trache in my throat. If it was truly God, He would know my thoughts. If I thought of a question, would He answer it? Would He reveal to me any of the secrets of heaven and earth? I thought of my Dad. I wondered what sort of activities he's doing in heaven. I figured this would be a good question to ask the only Being Who could convey this classified information, but before I could even formulate the question in my mind, the Voice spoke softly and lowly, "I'm your Father now." He truly knows every question before we ask it. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. (Matt. 6:8 NIV) Hearing Him refer to Himself as my Father, I felt closer to Him than ever before. I'd believed in the heavenly Father from my youth but now, here He was, taking time for me, and speaking to me from wherever heaven is. What a feeling of indescribable peace He brought! I understood from His response that heavenly activities would remain a secret. I should have realized He wouldn't contradict His written Word. "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him" (I Cor. 2:9 NIV) He spoke with compassion but yet, with purpose. I did not know what to say or think. I found myself not wanting to ask questions regarding things that I had accepted on faith. That's what faith is for. That's the beauty of believing in Christ. The wonder of what was and what will be. Knowing I am loved and heaven was mine for the asking. I was totally paralyzed and on a respirator but there was no place I would rather have been than right where I was. I felt I was born for this moment. I'd had many highlights in my life up until then, but they pale in comparison with this. Heaven had come to earth and paused right before my eyes.