The Parallel Journey

Introduction

During November 2011, I entered the hospital for what was expected to be about 4 days for lung surgery and recovery.  Because of extreme complications that followed, the hospitalization actually lasted for 7 weeks.  The first 10 days were most severe, so much so that my family and the medical staff at times did not think I would survive.  I was totally unaware of all of this, being heavily sedated and medically paralyzed for four of those days to give my body a better chance to recover.

In spite of my critical physical condition, I was simultaneously going through what I can only describe as an “experience”.  It was not like a misty and incoherent dream, but rather a journey or process that had definite beginning and ending points with a continuous thread of related thoughts and events, punctuated throughout with many details that I still vividly remember.  It began as an adventure that my wife Sherril and I had decided to take, having read a book about the amazing journey another couple had taken.  We also wanted to go and come back so we could tell people about the place they had seen.  That place was, according to them, none other than…Hell!

What I saw and experienced in my parallel state of awareness could fill a volume, but, briefly, it was a journey into the earth on something like a theme park ride that transported us from the entrance on a slow, downward spiraling track.  It gradually deteriorated from entertainment into gloom, apprehension, and trials.  Although I didn’t expect the trip to be easy, I had felt (in my parallel state) that it would be worth it to gain first-hand knowledge so I could warn people effectively and with passion about this place.   But I had no idea of what lay ahead.  In the story that follows I share many of the details of that experience, what it taught me and how it has changed my life.

Even before I entered the hospital I had a strong sense that God was going to be with me through the surgery.  Although I had peace about the process and believed I would recover, as I’ll explain further, I also sensed that He was going to use my experience to help others in some way.  I felt a strong urging to begin a blog to share with family and friends who might be interested in reading how God was providing through my challenges and would be encouraged and strengthened in their faith.  That was the reason I chose the title, A Faith Adventure, for the blog.

I am very grateful to my three sons, David, John and James, and especially to Sherril, who kept the blog going during the critical days and for the months that I was unable to participate in the process, being extremely debilitated after my initial recovery.

Much of my assurance in facing the surgery came through a verse written by the prophet Jeremiah.  It is found in Jeremiah 29:11 and says, "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  On October 12, a short time after I had signed up to receive a daily verse on the Internet, that verse of hope and encouragement arrived in my inbox.  I’m always a bit leery of grabbing a verse and supposing that somehow God is using it to speak to me, but I felt encouraged by it, nevertheless.

A few days later, one of our close friends sent that verse to us as an encouragement.  On October 19, during a rare moment Sherril and I were watching a movie, Soul Surfer, on DVD when we heard the verse quoted again.  The next morning, I decided to turn to that passage in my Bible to understand the context better.  I found that I had bookmarked it with a folded paper of sermon notes I had made on Jer. 29:1-14 when we visited a church a few months earlier during our family time in Florida!

I realize that all that is in the Bible in not addressed to us, but I believe it is all written for us.  If God is God, He can certainly use His word to deliver a message to us any time He chooses.  You may disagree, but there was no way of my mistaking His intention in this case!

Isn’t it marvelous the way the Lord reveals Himself and His love for us in little details that He has obviously planned well in advance of our actual needs!  What an illustration of how He cares for us so much more than the sparrow, which does not fall to the ground without His knowledge.


The Descent

As I pointed out above, during the most critical days of my intensive care when my survival was in doubt, I was experiencing a reality of a different kind that ran parallel to my physical state.  In a few words, it was a bold adventure to visit what we believed to be Hell and to report back. 

At the outset of our adventure Sherril and I had decided that whatever we did we would stick together.  As we arrived at the entrance of our destination, we climbed aboard the first track car and took our places, side by side at our desk-like seats, which were facing backward, away from the direction we would travel.  Obviously, that made us the last car.  (One of the earliest insights about this place was that everything seemed to be backwards, upside down or opposite of what one would expect.)  Also, for some reason I had been tagged at the entrance for special attention.

Suddenly, we were surprised by a smiling lady who popped into the entry way.  We recognized her as the co-author of the book that we had read about her journey with her husband in this place and our inspiration for launching out on our own adventure.  She greeted us and quickly taped a strip of paper to the inside of the visor on each of our desks.  “You’ll need these later,” she said, then wished us well and departed as quickly as she had come.  Almost immediately we began to roll.

As we slowly descended down the inclined track, it took us on a broad circular route in a downward spiral.  We were comfortable enough as we began.  I remember there even being some background music.  But the way grew steadily darker until there was only subdued background light – just enough to see people as silhouettes.  The walls and ceiling reminded me of a rough mining tunnel.  In our little track car we had air supply lines, which I assumed were needed because of the quality of the air we would encounter below. 

During the descent I noticed the background music had changed to a militant sounding tone with a theme that kept repeating.  Also, someone came by and partially cut my air supply line away after they noticed my tag, leaving me to breathe the bad air mixed with the good.  I began to realize that this was not going to be a fun ride.  I was not going through this place as a passive observer; I had been selected to experience it.

Reflecting back on this part of the journey, I sometimes think about how awful it would have been to have remained permanently in that state of darkness and am often reminded of the stark contrast between darkness and light.  I don’t know of any two terms that represent such polar opposite concepts. 

Throughout the Scriptures, darkness is used metaphorically to speak of despair, confusion, absence of the truth, evil and separation from God; while light is synonymous with hope, wisdom, truth, right living and God himself.  Jesus said, “I am the light of the world.”  A very bold claim, indeed, unless he really is!  If we who call ourselves Christians are true followers of Jesus, we have received that light from Him and are called to live in such a way that those around us who live in darkness may see the goodness of God and worship Him.

Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.  Matt 5:16 (NASB)


The In-Processing

As we continued our darkening descent along the circular track, we finally came to rest in a kind of station where many others were already waiting – although it was hard to see much in the shadowy environment.  About 30 or 40 feet to our right was a raised brown platform or dais.  Mechanically walking back and forth on the dais was the solid black form of an almost featureless man, who seemed to be giving instructions to other workers roaming among the parked track cars.  Between us and the dais was a faintly visible area filled with small pedestals uniformly spaced, each with a small black, vertically mounted rod, like a stubby antenna, on top.

Seeking to insert some levity into our gloomy situation, I tried to be amused by the creaking of the wooden floor in the platform each time the man in black walked in our direction, thinking how primitive this place must be.  Soon it was announced that everyone was to get out all cell phones and cameras and hold them up as a worker came by.  Rather than collecting them, he carried a small device in his hand that, one by one, he placed next to each item and zapped it with a high voltage electrical arc, rendering it useless.

The purpose of this station seemed to be to process new inductees into Hell, in other words, people who had just died.  The fact that we were still alive wasn’t yet a big issue, although that would change for me later.  For now, we would move on to the next phase of our journey and the beginning of trials.

From this point on I remember being aware that I was hearing something of a commentary about the events as we were experiencing them.  Not hearing in the sense of an audible voice but more like the hearing of an idea or memory when it comes to mind.  One such commentary was that we could not trust anything we heard here to be the whole truth.  That certainly made sense when I thought of where we were and, according to the Scriptures, who rules over the kingdom of darkness.  Jesus called him a liar and the father of lies in John 8:44.

Up to now most of the negative events and threatening environment had been general and, with the exception of my air line being cut, not directed to anyone in particular.  But that was about to change.  As we moved beyond the station, our next experience was something like a video game.  I don’t recall many details, but rather than watching or playing the game, I was actually in it, at least mentally.  Trying again to capture some element of humor, I remember thinking that a good slogan for the experience would have been, “A Wild, Screaming Ride to Hell!”

Each new experience during the entire journey seemed to be calculated to ratchet up the level of anxiety, fear and stress above the previous one.  But this was just the beginning, and what we were about to see next was going to be truly heartbreaking.


The Gallery

As our journey continued, we found ourselves for a short time in a brightly lit area, totally in contrast to what we had seen and experienced so far.  Before us was a large display that appeared to be molded out of white Styrofoam.  It consisted of tiered rows of slightly sculpted receptacles, spaced uniformly a few inches apart throughout the entire array.  In each receptacle was an object having the size, shape and appearance of an ordinary vitamin or medicine capsule.  The capsules were dark brown in color and mounted in an upright position.

What a curious sight!  This didn’t seem to fit in at all with our experience up to this point.  Then we saw something even more bizarre.  Floating around just in front of our faces, were a few yellow, inch-or-so-high objects that, at first glance, could have been mistaken for some kind of fanciful cartoon bird.  They had what appeared to be two large brown eyes, and to what seemed to be the nose was attached a slowly turning transparent propeller.  On their bodies they carried two clear, pin-head size cups.  “These are actually kind-of cute,” I thought to myself, “with their big brown eyes.”  They seemed to be looking right at me as they floated by.

What could be the significance of all this?  And what were these small brown capsules?  How long had they been there…days...months...years...longer?  Then it hit me…there was nothing cute at all about this.  Not only is what you hear in this place not trustworthy, but what you see is equally intended to deceive.  In fact, it was totally horrifying.  I remembered that in the book that our predecessors had written they talked about the little yellow objects and had even given them the name, “Two-er”, because of the two cups they carried.  Also, the commentary of events that I was hearing in my head was clarifying what this whole scene was really about.

Each capsule was actually a person.  This seemed to be the eventual fate of everyone arriving: to be reduced to a small capsule and mounted permanently with no interaction with others and no hope of any change – ever. 

So what were the “Two-ers”?  They supposedly were designed to deliver their tiny cups of water to the fixed capsules, but seemed to have no means to physically transfer the water (if there really was any) and the capsules no way to receive it, parched and thirsty as they may have been.  Their real purpose seemed intended to tantalize and torment, not to satisfy.  And the two brown eyes?  I realized they were simply two capsules mounted into the front of the device horizontally – how cruel and diabolical all this was. 

When I thought about their two “eyes” seeming to look at me as they floated by, I wondered if they somehow knew this place could not keep us and longed to escape with us.  It was heartbreaking, but for them it was too late.

The following story told by Jesus and recorded in Chap 16 of Luke’s Gospel seems to put all of this in perspective:

"Now there was a rich man, and he habitually dressed in purple and fine linen, joyously living in splendor every day.  And a poor man named Lazarus was laid at his gate, covered with sores, and longing to be fed with the crumbs which were falling from the rich man's table; besides, even the dogs were coming and licking his sores.  Now the poor man died and was carried away by the angels to Abraham's bosom; and the rich man also died and was buried.  In Hades he lifted up his eyes, being in torment, and saw Abraham far away and Lazarus in his bosom.  And he cried out and said, 'Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus so that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool off my tongue, for I am in agony in this flame.'  But Abraham said, 'Child, remember that during your life you received your good things, and likewise Lazarus bad things; but now he is being comforted here, and you are in agony.  'And besides all this, between us and you there is a great chasm fixed, so that those who wish to come over from here to you will not be able, and that none may cross over from there to us.'  And he said, 'Then I beg you, father, that you send him to my father's house — for I have five brothers — in order that he may warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.'  But Abraham said , 'They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.'  But he said, 'No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent!'  But he said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be persuaded even if someone rises from the dead.' "  Luke 16:19-31 (NASB)


The Big Decision

As I pondered the horrific plight of people whose souls had been reduced to mere capsules, it dawned on me that these were not the only forms of reduction that we had seen.  They were just a more modern and compact version of the pedestals with the stubby antenna-like structures on top that we had seen arrayed between us and the dais at the dingy in-processing station.  But in either case, they faced the same condition of utter monotony, never again to experience any form of human touch or love, not even a smile, only unending isolation and gloom – and no escape, not even the temporary reprieve of sleep that we have known in our lives.

I was also beginning to wonder at what point we would be expelled from this place since we were still living and obviously did not belong there.  Eventually, our track car rolled to a stop again and we were confronted with this very issue.  The authorities offered to eject us and said that if we continued on it would become much more difficult and we would have to prove we were dead.  They already had seats (more like pouches) slung from high above prepared for us to sit in and be lifted out.  Sherril and I had to make a decision.

Our reason for coming on this adventure had been to experience something about Hell that would enable us to be more effective in warning people about going there and explaining how Jesus had provided the way of escape.  Up to now most of what we had experienced had not been much different than what we had already read about.  I felt that I needed to go on but encouraged Sherril to leave.  In her true loyal manner she insisted on sticking with me. 

The decision was made.  We would continue on.  Would we be offered the opportunity to leave again later on?  How would all this end?  We didn’t know.  We just trusted that God would somehow work it out for good – that we had His ultimate protection.

The stage was set now for a long series of tests and trials.  It began with being asked our occupations.  I said engineer and Sherril homemaker.  Each general category of occupation had its own route to follow, and I would begin first, going with the architects and engineers group.  We would be separated for the first time, but I didn’t realize then that it would also be for the duration of my experience.

Throughout the coming ordeal Scripture verses such as this one would come to mind to sustain me:

Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears my word and believes in Him who sent me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life. – John 5:24


A Time for Reflection

Every so often, as I meditate on my journey, I find myself becoming depressed.  While I want to portray the experience as accurately as I can, it’s also true that dwelling on the details too long can actually become oppressive unless I take time to step back and try to keep everything in perspective.  For me, the only real antidote for this is to go to the refreshing water of the Word of God, and sometimes just to cry out to Jesus in thanksgiving for setting me free from the tyranny of this spiritual oppression.

Since last November, hardly a day has passed that I haven’t spent some time thinking about the journey, replaying an event or scene that comes to mind.  When this happens, I’m always seeking to understand better how each one of these might contribute to the whole experience, how to interpret it in the light of the Scriptures and, especially, how I should be responding to it.  It definitely continues to be a work in progress.

But one thing is for certain, my gratitude for what Jesus suffered for me on the cross, my comprehension of  the greatness of His love for me and my understanding of  the horrific future He has rescued me from have reached a new and far deeper level than ever before.  When I pray now, for example, I somehow sense being closer to the Lord and want to begin simply in thanking and praising Him.

One of the challenges of relating the story of the Parallel Journey has been discovering links between what I was experiencing and what was happening with my treatment.  For instance, after I became conscious I heard sounds that were common in the ICU where I lived for 3 weeks and realized that I had heard them before during my journey where they had had very different meanings. 

More important for me, though, has been to connect the period of about 4 days when I was most heavily sedated and my body was medically paralyzed to help it fight for recovery.  It was during this period that the medical staff worked around the clock to save my life.  Both they and my family thought that I would not make it, but God graciously rescued me so that (at least) I could tell you this story.  It is this next part of my journey that apparently took place during this most critical time frame.

As you read and wonder in what state of consciousness I might have been during this experience, keep in mind these few points:  I had a full and continuing awareness of what was happening, there were no discontinuities from the beginning of the journey to its end, and I had the sense that it extended over a period of several days.

As I was about to begin the second phase of the journey, I realized that it was a turning point – no longer just an adventure, but a commitment – and possibly going beyond the point of no return.  I would pray more than once that if this experience would help me do a better job of warning others about Hell, I was willing to go through it.  That prayer would grow stronger and deeper along the way.

Now, the trials would begin…

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.  Ps. 23:4


Breathing Challenges Begin

For much of the journey from here on I sensed being flat on my back.  I’m not sure what kind of conveyance I was on, but it resumed the spiraling circular type of course we had traveled in the track car. As before, I was moving slowly backwards, seemingly descending along the outer edge of a very large pit.   I was unable to change positions or move my limbs, totally at the mercy of the forces in charge.  Interspersed throughout the journey, however, were moments when I was able to view my body as an observer looking on to the scene.  These would become more frequent toward the end.

Not surprisingly, many of the trials I was about to experience were related to breathing.  I had suffered early on from the cutting away of my air line during the descent to the in-processing station, but that was just a minor irritation in comparison to what lay ahead.

My air supply was now channeled through a labyrinth-like path of clear plastic chambers, pipes and connections leading into my mouth.  Suddenly, I heard a series of muffled popping sounds off to my right, like people opening up bags of pressure sealed snacks.  Then I saw that a pipe was growing out of that direction and extending overhead.  It had the appearance of a round air conditioning duct although smaller and also made of plastic.  With each pop an accordion-style joint opened out, extending the pipe until it was directly over my air supply.  There was nothing visible supporting the pipe...no doubt held there by levitation.

Immediately, several small blue balls began to pour out of the pipe and enter my air supply.  I watched each one come bouncing and rolling through the maze of passageways relentlessly toward my intake.  All this was obviously calculated to incite fear and build up the torment level before they actually entered my throat to choke me.  Unpleasant as it was to bear, I somehow survived the experience of the first one dropping into my throat and going down into the lungs.  Then, one by one, each of the rest eventually came through.  I don’t know how many there were, but my next fear was that I soon would have no lung capacity left because of all the balls.

But, once again, I somehow survived.  And this was the recurring pattern…an inevitable new threat, followed by a stressful or painful experience…yet always surviving it to face an even harsher challenge.  In one of those brief moments when I became an on-looking observer, I was shown what purported to be an x-ray of my chest.  It revealed my left lung about one third full of the blue balls and my right lung with two of the three lobes removed.  I was supposed to have had only one lobe removed in the worst case scenario of my surgery.  More lies…

This experience seemed so real to me that even after I became conscious again, I still believed I had balls in my lungs.  One of the nurses who was working with me early in my just-recovered state told me about suctioning out a large “ball of mucous” from my lungs.  I was sure that this must have been one of the balls and asked (I had to write out my questions then because I was still on a ventilator) if I could see it.  Of course, it had been disposed of.  I was very disappointed because I was certain at the time that I had brought back a souvenir as evidence of my adventure that was now lost forever!

What insight did I gain from this episode?  Something has often puzzled me in the Scriptures...Hell is described as a place of eternal destruction.  How could people continue to suffer destruction eternally?  The dilemma was that if they are destroyed, I surmised, they would no longer exist.  Now I understand that in that realm destruction is not annihilation but a process that can repeat endlessly, subjecting its victim to the same agony over and over again.

…the Lord Jesus will be revealed from heaven with His mighty angels in flaming fire, dealing out retribution to those who do not know God and to those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus. These will pay the penalty of eternal destruction, away from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of His power…  2Thessalonians 1:7b-9


More Breathing Trials

As my journey continued, inching along the wall of the great pit, suddenly, a series of popping sounds erupted off to the right again.  I knew another pipe was growing toward me and dreaded to see what form of torture it would bring.  Fear of the unknown…certainty of greater suffering…this was the sinister strategy of this place, as I had learned already, using mind games to intensify pain.  Quickly, the second pipe appeared, extending parallel to and below the first one, which was no longer growing to follow my progress along the track.  As soon as it was overhead, it could see and hear it begin to pour out its contents…

Water!  Yes, as I watched the water trickle into the labyrinth of my air supply, my new fear was that what the balls had not done to fill my lungs the water would surely do.  My tormentors were going to drown me…slowly!  This was one of those increasingly frequent occasions when I would remember my decision and commitment to continue on this journey rather than take the offer to be escorted out.  I began to have many nagging thoughts… Had I made a foolish decision?  Should I have dragged Sherril into this – and what was happening to her?  Had I been selfishly motivated to go further so I could have more to report than those who had been here before us?  Were these thoughts being put into my mind by the tempter?   I prayed in protest, “Lord, I’m trusting you to be with me through this.  I’m willing to endure the suffering if it will somehow bring you glory.”

Though I felt the water coming in, it did not stop my breathing and I survived another trial.  There were more pipes that grew from the side to terrorize me, each dumping other types of objects into my air supply, including another series of balls.  But this time the balls were larger and increasing in size.  I could plainly see that they would clog the air pathway before they even reached me.  So, I tried to breathe as slowly as I could to make the air last as long as possible.  Yet, once again I somehow passed through the test, only to face greater ones.

It was about this time that I first heard someone reading to me from the Bible and praying for me.  The voice was Sherril’s.  When I looked up I could make out a kind of still image in the darkness roughly resembling her and looking down over a wall above me.  Undoubtedly, it was an imposter’s voice as Sherril was in here going through her own trials.  At other times I heard my sons pray for me and later a friend of the family that I had not seen for a long time.  I also saw the same kinds of rough images of them.  All this, I reasoned, was intended to stir up my emotions with false hope and make a mockery of my faith.  Later, I would discover that those events actually occurred by my bedside during my darkest hours.

The next series of tests took a totally different tack, involving the eyes.  Unlike everything else I had experienced so far, this would require my active participation.  It would also take me into some of the deepest spiritual struggles of the entire journey. 

For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in him, but also to suffer for him -- Phil. 1:29

Testing the Inner and Outer Eyes


During this new phase of the journey I was sitting back in the track car – alone.  What had happened to Sherril?  I had been told earlier when I asked about how she was doing, that I didn’t want to know, implying that she was having a hard time and being tortured.  But this time someone said, “Oh, she’s miles ahead of you!”  I took that to mean she was finishing well, but then I also remembered again that nothing heard in this place can be trusted and often meant the opposite.

Over the next several hours – although time was difficult to estimate with no day-night cycle or any sleep there – I would be facing a series of tests that were a reminder of the supposed purpose behind all that I was enduring.  The authorities wanted to insure that I was dead, according to their definition, and therefore eligible for entry.  Their criteria for confirming my condition seemed to be mostly related to the eyes, both the physical eyes and also the inner eyes with which I was observing my current surroundings.  In the case of the physical eyes I simply must not ever open them.

The tests for the inner eyes were much more complex.  Perhaps this was unique to the engineers’ and architects’ pathway.  For one, an active pattern or scene would be shown to me for a few seconds – maybe two players on a tennis court, or series of telephone poles and lines.  My eye movements would be tracked during this time and analyzed to see how far they deviated from looking straight ahead and also if they showed evidence of focusing on the objects in the scene.  It was an extremely difficult test for me because my tendency was to look at the patterns and follow their lines.  This was another time when I was able to look on as an observer and could see what the technicians were doing.

I thought for certain that I would be disqualified because my eyes seemed to be tracking the objects too precisely.  They also applied three different templates over the pattern of my eye movements to measure how far they were deviating.  Each one had a name, but I remember that the one that I seemed to have the best chance of complying with was called the “Tall Warrior.”  In spite of my own assessment, the technicians could not agree on my condition and did more tests with the same indecisive outcome.

The second eye test, was opposite in nature and would require me to focus on a symbol as it appeared to float left and right in a random fashion.  At first, this was not so difficult, but as the tests were repeated over a much longer period than the first series of tests they became much more challenging.  This test also had a spiritual dimension in that the symbol represented Jesus and I would be distracted by other counterfeit symbols representing Satan.  Now I knew why the coauthor of the book we had read pasted the paper strips on our visors.  On them was printed the symbol that we needed to focus on to pass this test.  This was going to be a huge help to keep my eyes on the right one.

…and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.   Heb. 12: 1b-2  (NASB)


The Furrowed Brow

As I prepared to write this next segment of the Parallel Journey today, the Lord drew my attention to a familiar Scripture passage.  James, Chapter 1, verses 2 and 3 says, “Consider it all joy, my brothers, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance.”  The passage goes on to say that persevering under trial eventually earns a “crown of life” from the Lord.  Please note that it does not say that the trials are a joy, but the end result.  We just saw in the last segment that Jesus “endured the cross, despising the shame,” for the extreme joy that would be his in the end (Heb. 12:2). 

But what I was experiencing in this journey wasn’t real, was it?  I had made a decision to press on with the journey into uncharted waters knowing that it would become much more difficult but had made a commitment to do it only if it would honor the Lord, but that was not real either…or was it?  I cannot speak dogmatically, but the Lord seems to be showing me in various ways that my experience was indeed real. 

Consider this:  Few other experiences in my life do I remember in such detail, even fewer have so impacted my thinking or have so motivated my behavior as this one.  This has raised another interesting question.  If the parallel journey was as real as the physical one, was my protracted physical ordeal in intensive care the cause of my long trials in the parallel journey?  Or, was the other way around?  Is it possible that the necessity for the trials required my extended period of unconsciousness in ICU?  You be the judge as you read further.

Now, back to the journey...

In spite of the printed symbol that our friend had posted to the track car visors, I found myself losing focus and suddenly panicking, my eyes racing back and forth, until I located it again.  Each failure, I knew, was somehow counting against me and I would hear a loud alarm tone announcing my error.  Remember, I was trying to track these movements with what I’m calling the inner eyes – those with which I was observing everything in this awful place.  My physical eyes were, of course, tightly closed, especially during this timeframe of medically induced paralysis. 

Also, I made a discovery that if I bit down on a plastic extension of the visor that was near my mouth, it enhanced the image of my target symbol, making it a little brighter or bolder than its distracting imposters.   But each succeeding test increased the difficulty of the challenge, mixing in different colors and varieties of symbols.  I learned to respond quickly when I heard the alarm only to discover that sometimes they were now sounding randomly to further confuse me. 

During some of the trials I saw what seemed to be two military type standards dueling fiercely with each other – one inside the pit thrusting over the wall toward the outside and the other outside the wall thrusting inward.  The outside one I saw stood for the Lord.  Its progress against the inside standard seemed to be directly linked to how well I was keeping my focus during the trials.  At one point a piece of the inside standard broke off and fell outside the wall.  It was as though I was in the midst of a battle, the outcome of which depended on my performance, which I now interpret as keeping my eyes, spiritually speaking, on Jesus. 

Each time that I began to improve at maintaining focus a new challenge would arise.  Now, my biting down on the visor extension was becoming less effective and my target symbol was fading.  However, I discovered that I could compensate simply by biting harder.  As the recurring tests dragged on and the pressure needed to compensate for the fading symbol increased, I decided to set a scale for myself of the biting effort ranging from 1 to 7.  I figured that I was already up to a 3, but felt I could go for a 7 if necessary.  But I could not afford to relax the bite, though, because I had to be ready for the new test, which could start at any time.

Eventually, level 7 came and I realized that one more level might be needed before the battle was over.  I was certain that if I bit any harder on that piece of plastic, I would bite it in two.  Many days after I regained physical consciousness, I heard stories about what the medical staff and my family were calling the “furrowed brow.”  They told me that I was biting down on my breathing tube with such a clinched jaw that the expression on my face had become a continuous frown.

They were concerned that I might have had some kind of seizure or a stroke and called in a neurologist.  Of course, I knew immediately what the real story had been and tried to explain to them what was going on.  The eye trials (or perhaps better: the battle of the symbols) phase of the journey ended inconclusively, and I found myself on my back once again facing more breathing trials.

Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil.  For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.  Ephesians 6:11-12 (NASB)

 “Open Your Eyes!”

With teeth still tightly clinched on the visor extension I came under attack by an agent of the pit to open my mouth.  I could hear something like a suction or spraying kind of sound and a voice commanding me, “Open your mouth!” as I felt something nasty-tasting being forced into my mouth.  I didn’t dare relax my grip because the symbol test might begin again and I also knew that this was helping to keep my outer eyes closed.  Then it started…a barrage of verbal and physical assaults to get me to open my eyes.  I knew I had to guard against this at all cost.

At first it began as a mild request.  A feminine voice asked, “Mr. Harrill, can you open your eyes?”  Other agents, using different approaches increased the verbal pressure, some shaking or bumping me as well.  I heard them discussing what to do next.  Finally, one of them forced open first one eye then the other and shined a light into each one.  I was afraid that this might have disqualified me but somehow I knew that allowing the light in when it was being forced didn’t count against me.  Then, one of them in a loud masculine voice yelled angrily at me, “Hu!  Hu!  Open your eyes!  Are you playing possum, or what!”  After this, their efforts to open the eyes relented, but I expected the harassment from my tormentors to continue in new ways as had been the predictable pattern from the beginning.

At this point something began to change – in me.  My attitude toward those agents who were afflicting me started to shift.  I didn’t know who or what they were.  Could they be new recruits who had not been reduced to the capsule state yet?  I didn’t know, but I began to be concerned about them.  Whatever their state was, I saw them as being caught in slavish bondage and prayed for them.  Interestingly, the more I prayed for them the less they seemed to harass me. 

Then something even stranger happened.  I saw my son James, who is a Physician Assistant, seemingly making suggestions to the agents.  He was not just a fixed likeness as I had seen of other family members earlier, but was actively moving about and interacting with some of the agents.  I was totally confused by this.  What could it mean that James was with this group?

Not until many days after I returned to consciousness did I begin to realize the extent to which there was integration between this parallel state of existence and the physical world.  A little later in the journey, I was encouraged during one my out-of-the-body observation moments when James was working with some of the others.  Suddenly, I saw a one-liner pop up on a computer screen next to him for a few seconds that read, “Jesus:  James is mine >>>,” with the arrow pointing directly toward him!

Once again, as I resumed moving slowly along the outer wall of the great pit, I became aware of gradually increasing difficulty in breathing and I began to wonder how much longer this journey would last and how it would end.  Would I indeed die and even have an encounter with Satan himself?  I was growing anxious for this experience to be over, but I remembered my commitment to do whatever it took.

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord.  1 Cor 15:58 (NASB)


Extreme Love

Soon, I saw the familiar labyrinth of air supply channels and chambers again.  But this time I noticed a kind of meter in the pathway that was measuring the rate of air flow that I was receiving.  I sensed that I was no longer getting an adequate amount to breathe normally.  As I recall, it was now at about 3.5 (whatever that meant) and I did not know what it had been.


Somehow, I did know that the flow was going to continue being gradually reduced and made up my mind to be as relaxed as possible to conserve energy.  I realized that ultimately there would not be enough air to survive and that this was probably the final stage to insure that I was really dead.  But why was I even being supplied air at all, if they did not know that I was still alive, unless it was all part of a devilish plot to extend and exacerbate my torment?
As the meter reading dropped, I once again heard what was purported to be Sherril’s voice softly telling me, “Breathe deeply,” and, “Take long slooo….breaths.”  Right!  What else was I supposed do with my air supply being cut? 

As if to add further insult, I heard her voice again later, this time reading the Bible and starting to cry.  “There’s no limit to the extent they will go to add to suffering in this evil place,” I thought.

As my struggle to breathe wore on, my thoughts and my prayers began to focus on Jesus.  I visualized Him, suffering on the cross for me, and thanked Him repeatedly for loving me so much.  He had chosen to pour out His own blood, paying the price for all my sins, and had overcome death for me.  I saw images of Him in his ultimate humiliation and extreme suffering actually winning the battle of the ages over our adversary and accuser, the devil. 

I thought how minor my little affliction was in comparison to what Jesus had endured.  Even so, in my waning endurance, I felt the need more than once to reaffirm my commitment to Him to go through this if it would bring Him honor.  Strangely, in doing so I received strength and assurance. 

I hesitate to draw any comparison between my suffering and His, yet in a very small way I was able to identify with one of the many ways in which He suffered.  Crucifixion was such a heinous and brutal means of torture and execution.  Among its many-pronged forms of inflicting pain was the slow and agonizing loss of strength to breathe.  It was customary for the Romans to break the legs of their victims to hasten their death.  Being unable to raise their bodies enough to relieve the tension on their chests, they would soon suffocate. 

Even in His dying moments, Jesus was still in charge.  He had told His disciples that he had power to lay His life down and to take it up again.  When He had completed the mission of bearing the condemnation that was due all of mankind, He yielded His spirit to the Father and died when He chose, much to the surprise of the Roman soldiers.  For that reason His legs were not broken, fulfilling an ancient prophecy about Messiah.

The meter was now down to about 1.5.  I wished that I could just push a button and simply die.  But the end was not yet.

But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Romans 5:8 (NASB) 


Tour of the Ages

Once more, I found myself watching as an observer and saw my body lying at the edge of what appeared to be a very large wheel or turntable that could possibly have encompassed the entire pit area.  My head was toward the wall along which the wheel moved and my body lay straight out from the wall, unlike in the past when I had been lying parallel to it.

To the right of my body and approximately parallel with it I saw the edge of what appeared to be another overlapping and darker wheel into which the one carrying me was slowly converging.  Along the edge where I was lying were tic marks that seemed to indicate time. Watching the rate of progress of the moving wheel, I estimated that it was a matter of only a few minutes before the area where I was lying would converge. 

Was this the final countdown?  Did this mean that I was about to die and to enter the deeper parts of Hell? 

Suddenly, a woman’s voice made an announcement.  Not a real person, but like the professional recording of an automated answering service.  I don’t remember the words the voice spoke precisely enough to quote them verbatim, but it said something like:  “Welcome to His Majesty’s Imperial Kingdom.  We will now begin to make connections.” 

Immediately, I saw (now back in my body) an array of electrodes like those from an EKG machine pop up from the darker area at my right side.  A couple of them attached themselves to my right leg.  With that, my spirit began to recoil within me and I yelled out (probably not audibly), “Satan, you cannot have me!  I belong to Jesus.  He poured out His blood for me and has paid for all my sins!” 

Back in the observer point of view I saw that the wheel had actually moved backward a couple of marks.  Was this a positive turn of events for me, or was it just another reprieve while they made sure I was completely dead?  In either case, another part of this place was about to be revealed to me that I had not seen so far and that would impact me emotionally more than anything else in this entire journey.

With my air supply now barely sustaining me, I sensed that I was slowly floating in a downward spiraling free fall.  Soon I began to see barren walls with a few oriental-style markings on them that blended into the pavement beneath.  I heard that these were the ruins of ancient nations.

As I passed through various scenes and saw the walls and pavement more closely, I realized that they were covered with many small dark specks.  Some appeared as round dots and others resembled short pieces of broken pencil lead randomly stuck there. 

I knew right away what they were and imagined a whole civilization that once walked the earth now consigned to this eternal fate.  I was deeply moved to realize that these were the individual souls of real people trampled into the dirt and mire of past ages where they would remain forever.

As I was shown scene after scene, the conditions continually deteriorated to the point that the souls of people lay scattered as debris on dirty streets, many pounded into the pavement.  It was heartbreaking and overwhelming.  Then, I thought about the billions more that are alive on the earth today that will one day join these unless they come to faith in Jesus before they die. 

Suddenly, I saw that I was back on the wheel again.  Then I noticed that I was surrounded by more of the same type of pedestals that I had seen in the in-processing station.  They were on both the moving wheel and the darker area I was approaching.  Although I knew it was too late for these souls, I felt so moved that I prayed for them anyway that if possible they might feel at least the touch of Christ’s love, if for only a moment.

Then I saw that the authorities were doing more tests on me.  This time they were analyzing my brain and were actually downloading all the data stored in my memory.  Of course, that would include everything I had ever done or thought!  In my shock, I yelled out in protest, “You have no right to do that!  Everything I have ever done wrong and every evil thought I have ever had has been forgiven and covered by the blood of Jesus.”

Under growing anguish, I cried out yet again, “Jesus, I’m willing to go through this if it can bring honor to You.  I’m trusting You to be with me.”  Then a doubt (I know where that came from!) entered mind: Would God even hear me from this place if Hell is being absent from God?  Then, just as quickly, the answer came as I remembered that the Scriptures say there is no place I can go from His presence even “if I make my bed in Hell.”

After all their analysis the experts were still undecided and puzzled about whether I was fully dead or not.  Then my son James had a suggestion that they agreed to try.

Where can I go from Your Spirit?  Or where can I flee from Your presence?  If I ascend into Heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in Hell, behold You are there.  Psalm 139:7,8

The Great Awakening

Disguised by its pleasant sounding recording, that announcement, “We will now begin making connections,” sounded much more ominous as it was played the second time.  During my outburst earlier when the giant wheel I was on backed away from the darker one, the electrodes that were attached to me had popped off.

But before the re-attachment was to resume, the technical authorities had one more test to perform to insure that I met their criteria for being qualified as dead.  At my son James’ recommendation, they were preparing to take an x-ray.  I have no idea what this was supposed to have shown them.

Quickly, an old fashioned looking black screen in an aluminum frame about the size of a large laptop computer screen was brought out.  There were cables attached to it going to equipment off to the side.  From my observation point of view I saw it being placed over me.  James made some small adjustments then gave the OK.

Then… ZAP!!

Instantly, a blinding flash of light engulfed the entire area.  It was like an explosive electrical short circuit or lightning strike, except that there was no sound!  So intense was the light that everything was washed completely out of sight! 

Then…I was awake…wide awake!

Immediately, I saw an excited and smiling nurse walking beside my bed as it was rolling along a hospital hallway – the first smiling face I had seen since the beginning of my journey when the lady pasted the paper strips to the visors of our track car.  Everything was so bright and cheerful, and there were…colors!   Everywhere!  Other people around us were also talking and smiling…I had not seen this for so long!  I felt totally liberated (although on my back with a ventilator tube stuck in my mouth)! 

And I was excited, too.  I was eager to tell everyone about where I had been and how I had just been rescued from the gates of Hell.  I wanted to warn them to be prepared so they would not go there. 

Of course, I had no idea what a roller-coaster ride my family and the medical staff had been through emotionally during the last eight days or so of medical setbacks.  Nor did I realize that I was actually on my way back from a CT scan to determine what serious problem I had.  Because I was not responding and not waking up (remember the furrowed brow) from the medically paralyzed state that they had put me in, there was concern about possible brain injury.

I was then blessed by a very kind and attentive male nurse who made every effort to communicate with me, to get me cleaned up and to make me as comfortable as possible, considering all my attachments.  What a joy and a blessing it was then to see Sherril and my three sons gathered around me!  I was surprised to see that even John had traveled all the way from Cambodia and wondered why he was there.  But I was at peace and very thankful to be alive.  End of story?  Hardly…because I was alive, I knew I now had a commitment to fulfill.  In a very real sense the story was just beginning.

For several days I could not look at a blank wall or close my eyes without seeing for a few moments swirling masses of small black specks like I had seen in the vision of the ancient ruins I had been shown just before my awakening.  

However, it would be many months before the story of the Parallel Journey could begin to be told.  Not only was my endurance completely shot, but with the medications, tubes, breathing difficulties and various other issues and distractions I found it extremely challenging to focus for any length of time on a subject and a huge effort physically to carry on a sustained conversation. 

My body weight within a two-week’s time frame had sharply increased to a high of 150 pounds (30 above normal) because of massive edema, then plummeted down to a low of 87 as I was given diuretics to remove excess fluid.  When I was discharged from the hospital, I had gained back to only 95 emaciated pounds.

But God’s timing is always perfect and He gave me the months of delay to allow time for healing and to meditate on and evaluate what I had experienced.  This has enabled me to put things in perspective and to understand better the meaning of many confusing aspects of the journey.  It also gave me time to learn about many significant things that had occurred and all the traumas my body had suffered while I was consciously out of this world and to correlate some of those events with ones I had experienced in the other-world journey. 

I slowly began to realize that my being alive and being mentally and physically functional, except for my total debilitation, was truly a series of miracles.  It was nothing less than an outpouring of God’s grace arising from an ongoing concert of prayers from friends, family and even people and whole churches I did not know, literally around the world!   

There are still questions that I do not have answers for.  But there is so much more that I have learned from the journey that I hope to continue being able to share with others.  My goal is to help them understand what Jesus has accomplished for us, the critical need for accepting His gift of freedom from sin and death and the urgency of getting this message out to people who have never heard.  

In the next several segments I will be sharing some key insights, lessons learned and how this experience has changed my thinking and my life.  But I must add the caveat that I am still learning from the experience myself.  One thing I knew for certain, though, I was alive solely by the grace and mercy of God.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's. -- Psalms 103:1-5 (ESV)

The Parallel Journey Unveils a Parallel Reality

Physically, I was still far from out of the woods at this point and would go through more trauma, including bouts with pneumonia, ”afib” (atrial fibrillation) and other issues.  I would be in critical care for a total of 4 weeks and rehab for another 3 weeks before being discharged.

So, what lessons and insights have I gained from the whole Parallel Journey experience?   Truly, there are many to share, but one stands out as the greatest.  If I forget all the rest, it will undoubtedly remain permanently impressed upon me.

I will always remember the deeply moving scenes of souls represented by stubs mounted on pedestals and masses of specks stuck in the walls and lying like debris in the streets of history.  The “tour of the ages,” strategically placed like an exclamation point at the very end of my ordeal, clearly emphasized the focus of the journey.

As a result, I now have a new passion to warn those who will listen that a horrific future awaits them unless they find the way of escape and that their one way of escape is to come to know Jesus and trust Him to save them.  He is the One who has already served our sentence in full and the only One with the power to rescue us.  Otherwise, we are destined to a monotonous, maddening and agonizing nightmare without end.

Now, some of you probably have been thinking, “Was this an authentic view of Hell?”  Or, “Do you really believe an underground track car is the means by which people will be transported to Hell!”  And, “What about the presence of people and voices who were still very much alive and active in the world?”  Those are great questions and some of the many with which I’ve wrestled over the past months.  I’ll be addressing these in future segments.

First of all, in dealing with the question of reality I’ve come to the conviction that my experience was real and for a purpose.  By real, I mean this:  I was fully conscious of a coherent flow and logical sequence of events without interruption over a period that apparently spanned at least several days.  My mind and emotions were fully engaged, as well as my will, to pray and to make decisions and commitments.  I felt stress, fears and suffering frequently throughout the experience.  Not only that, but since then, my memory of the journey and its impact on my life have been as vivid and lasting as any experience I’ve ever had in life.

Let me state in another way:  The world of the spirit is real!  Dying of the body merely releases the spirit that continues to exist.

Although I believe the experience was prepared uniquely for me and in the details is unlike that of anyone else, I am equally convinced that it was not inconsistent with Biblical truth and principles.  Was I actually in Hell itself?  I don’t think so, but rather in a place, or state, where the spirit of a person becomes loosely bound to the body as it nears death.

Although not mentioned specifically in the Bible, it was thought by some Jews in Jesus’ day that a person’s spirit hovered near the body for three days after their death.  That is why some scholars believe that Jesus waited until the fourth day after Lazarus died to raise him from the dead to demonstrate His power over death beyond the time when the spirit might still be present.

In stories of people who have revived from death or near-death experiences, they often tell of having seen their bodies from the outside.  I can similarly confirm this phenomenon as I experienced it regularly during the Parallel Journey and which became more frequent at the end as my life hung in the balance.

To the atheist, agnostic and skeptic the evidence that physical death does not simply end it all should serve as an extremely powerful motivator for them to reconsider their denial of the spiritual realm.  For me, my own Parallel Journey provided convincing personal evidence of the parallel reality that exists in the spirit world.  But even more important for me is that I know the One who holds the keys to death and the spirit world.  Do you know Him?  Don’t become an eternal casualty like those I saw in my journey.

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, "Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades”. -- Rev 1:17-18 (ESV)

(to be continued...)