They say death isn't the end of a man's journey. You can kill the body, and leave it for the earth to consume. But his soul starts a different journey. A journey of pain or peace. The believers teach of eternity making it feel we should be aware and ready once we drop this body. Because there is a different journey to start. A journey of eternity and that eternity will tell if it's going to be peaceful or painful. So I ask you "Are you a believer?"
My journey in life on earth was reckless with uncountable actions. I lived a life of merriment to the peak, ignoring all the teachings I was taught because I diverted from that path to seek something saving, as I thought.
My name is Matthew and I am going to tell you a story of a Day in Hell. Yes! that Hell the believers talk about and if after reading. It's left for you to believe what you read or not. I was born in a family that believes so much in the power of the cross. I could remember going to Church every Sunday in Sunnyvale, the special sensation and smell that filled the atmosphere every Sunday.
The way the sun shines in the field, the air and people smiling carelessly like nothing was wrong at all like they had their pains paused for that day. I remember sitting in the backseat with my siblings as my father drove us to church, as my parents stopped to greet any member, passing encouraging words, even when I knew it wouldn't happen. But they believe in the word "FAITH."
One night I asked my father a question after a night's prayer. My father was someone who will give his life for the gospel. He was someone that understood the insights of God's word written in the Bible. But now, he is no more because he tried to preach his way out from a man holding a gun asking him for his wallet, something any man will give to save his life. But for him? He won't
"Dad, can I ask you a question?" I asked
"Oh, my boy. You don't need permission to ask your father, because what I have is yours! Just like God gives everything to his son Jesus Christ as they are one. So we're Matthew. What could the question be?" He smiled
There he goes with preaching.
"Daddy! What if all we believed was a lie or heaven, demons, and hell were all false and life's journeys just end here?" I asked in a calm voice. Calm enough not to provoke him.
"Hmm, son you think like an adult for a twelve years old boy. Okay! If they were all lies, then I will die believing and know I have lived a clean life with many others can learn from. And if the journey ends here, so with my soul." He replied with much confidence
I just stared at him, as if there was a light on his face. One I wish I could touch. I believed and so much admired him. I wished to be like him. But everything changed when he died, I lost my whole world, my mentor and hero. And right there at his funeral, I hated everything about the gospel and God's mysterious ways. He didn't save him. He let him go by the cold hand of a killer, strained by his blood.
I asked myself, "why? Why didn't you save us? Why didn't you protect him as you promised us?" My pain couldn't be fixed except for seeing my father again. I vowed never to believe again. I dropped my faith and looked the other way. Following the path was unclear to me. A destination with a predictable end, and when my family tried to correct me. I left home and traveled far where they couldn't reach me.
A land where all your dirty desires can be fulfilled at any cost. A place where rules can be broken with the right amount and what you can offer in exchange. I lived a wayward lifestyle, getting my hands into the dirty businesses, drugs, and creating political scandals. But still, I couldn't kill the conscience in me. Tried, oh! Believe me. It was difficult but I left it silent by ignoring it. For how long?
Soon, the worst happened to me, and it redefined me. It was one Friday night, after a night party with friends, I was driving home drunk, trying to get home early. I was unstable, I tried to gain control of the wheels but I couldn't. I crashed the car at a traffic light. An accident that landed me in a coma for two years. Two years alone in the hospital.
On that sickbed, laid lifeless but I could feel everything around me and still couldn't talk or move. One night the supernatural happened. A time to see my mistakes. The cold wind blew into the room, through the window in the direction of the curtains. I felt a presence. I felt my soul leaving my body, as I saw my body lying lifeless on the bed. It was like a helicopter taking off from the landing spot.
It felt like the Grim Reaper coming for my soul but instead, it was a man in white shining brighter than the sun. An angel of the Lord. "Is my soul worth this?" I asked myself.
I looked at my body. I noticed that I had changed form into a spirit, and my form was in the shape of my body. I worried about what was going on?
"Where am I going because I don't feel dead even when I am not in my actual body?" I asked in fear.
"My son, fear not. I want to show you something to tell the world. I want to show you HELL."
To those of you that think hell is on earth. Oh, Hell is right-center of the earth and there are souls tortured endlessly, day and night. No compassion. No mercy. No rest. Only pain and sorrow beyond your belief. And when I saw one of the hell pits. I saw that the stray souls in the hell pit were locked inside a skeleton form. "My God," I begged, cried, and pleaded for their release. But no way out. Then I heard a cry from the first pit. I saw a soul in the form of a skeleton, screaming and crying. "Lord Jesus save me."
The skeleton form of a man with dirty grey fog inside was calling Jesus' name. I gave attention to his plea. his rusty flesh hung by fragments from his bones and as it burned it fell off into the bottom of the pit. Where his eyes had once been now an empty socket. He had no hair and worms fed on him. The worm that couldn't burn.
Suddenly, I cried, and screamed in fear of the terror, causing my soul to return to my body in the hospital, with a scream and sweat rolling down my body. "Have mercy Lord."
"He's awake." One of the nurses called out. But I came back with a mark on my right wrist. And inscribe words. "Tell them, Matthew."
