Desperately trying to calm myself, I tried to be more positive. As I lay there with my eyes closed my thoughts slowly gave way to other matters. Funny how I pass out almost every time. What mysterious adventure am I in for now?

Nearly all sense of danger had evaporated. I had been kept safe every other time I had been flung from one place to other. I opened my eyes and turned over. Surely not! In a flash I sat bolt upright and hastily scanned my surroundings, my heart pounding. Oh, no! I had never felt so cheated.

Not since these outrageous events had begun had I been surrounded by such chaos. Yep, I was back in my own bedroom. More disturbing still, I had been tucked up in my own bed. How could all that possibly have been a dream? I strained to recall the last things I could remember before all this started. To my deep annoyance, I remembered going to bed. I was furious. Why hadn’t I remembered earlier that going to bed had preceded all these surreal experiences? Then another thought came. This is ridiculous! How could so much be crammed into one night? How could that happen without some massive temporal anomaly?

I flicked off my bed lamp and flopped into my pillow, hoping I could go back to sleep and wake up to discover that what I had experienced had not been a dream.

When next I opened my eyes, there was total anarchy wherever I looked. It was my embarrassingly untidy room alright. After the perfection of some of the places I had visited, it seemed more of a shambles than ever. My clock confirmed it was still the middle of the night.

Hey! I switched my light off, didn’t I? How can I see so clearly? There was something peculiar about what was lighting up the room. I rolled over and nearly jumped out of my skin. Chebon was standing before me; his glowing body illuminating the room. He looked as regal as ever, despite his head being bent awkwardly to avoid scraping the ceiling.

He looked at me. “Man,” he said.

That’s all it took. I began to tremble. Strength drained from me. You never realize how small a room is until one of those monsters tries to cram into it. Nevertheless, being addressed by Chebon was unsettling for more reasons than the room preventing me from being my usual thirty or more feet from a celestial.

I had become somewhat anesthetized to illustrious nonhumans treating me as if I did not exist. Being the focus of their attention, I was quickly discovering, was an entirely different predicament. The contrast was as stark as having seen numerous documentaries of ferocious sharks and suddenly finding myself in the water with one. Yes, I had endured the horror of interacting with what I had presumed to be fallen angels. Nonetheless, this roaring blast furnace of glory made fallen ones seem like dying embers. I shuddered as I recall overhearing one of these holy ones speak longingly of annihilating all of humanity.

“Help!” I cried, as I began to slip into some sort of faint. He reached out to me. I’m so thankful he did not touch me – I doubt I could have coped with that – but I felt strength coming from him and flowing into me.

“You live too aloof from God, little man. You don’t treat him as your constant companion and confidante. You rob yourself of more than you can even imagine; squandering your life thinking to yourself instead of communing with the One who is warmer and more exciting and amazing and uplifting than your most extravagant hopes.

“You treat the ineffable Lord more like an occasional visitor than the One who is your life, your wisdom, your strength, your joy, your glory, your all. Rather than cherishing his companionship, you settle for pathetically less. You are too content to be fascinated by his trinkets, distracting yourself, instead of delighting in the endless richness and matchless beauty of who he is.”

I was reeling under his barrage but he kept pounding away with at least as much sensitivity to my feelings as a battleship.

“Like someone so enthralled by wrapping paper that he never discovers the gift inside, you let yourself be intrigued by things he has made rather than by the Maker himself. You try to survive on stale crumbs when God himself is the extravagant banquet that is yours for the taking.

“By your side, hanging on to your every word and thought, aching to be included, is the most fascinating, stupendously desirable person who is infinitely more devoted to you than anyone else is even capable of. And most of each day you spurn him, treating him as if he is not even with you.

This guy has no idea when to stop!

“You let yourself shrivel into a tiny, self-obsessed shell of a person, instead of growing into the magnificent, ever-expanding being that continual Christ-centeredness would make you.”

Although I had barely the faintest idea of what I must be missing out on, he left me feeling I must be the biggest fool the universe has ever seen. I was even temporarily distracted from my angst over what I had thought to be the greatest adventure of my life turning out to be nothing more than a dream. But hang on! If it were just a dream, how come right now there’s a supernatural being towering over me, turning my own bedroom into a doll house? Man, why does everything have to be so confusing?

I was denied time even to vent, however. Motor Mouth had not the slightest intention of slowing. “My primary mission,” he said, “is to remind you that you have merely seen a vision – a doctored portrayal of reality.”

“What?” I said, rather loudly.

“Allowances have been made for your intellectual and spiritual limitations.”

“My what?” I was more than a little indignant.

“And do you think the Son rapped?”

“Oh,” I said, deflated. What a blockhead! Of course Jesus would not have rapped, any more than he would have played a violin or worn a top hat. How could I have missed something so obvious? I really must have been in a trance to have been so stupid.

“I figured out that what I saw was being translated,” I said rather proudly. “From what you say, certain liberties must have been taken with the translation, but what I saw must have been genuine . . .”

“Do you think a gigantic scorpion really attacked the crucified Son?”

“Well . . . no. I thought –” Actually, I don’t know what I thought.

“And there were other divergences from reality.”

“Those sparkler things – surely they were real? What about the sand that always stayed on the beach? What about –”

“I am not permitted to say.”

“Fat lot of good that is!” Annoyed and disappointed, I had momentarily forgotten whom I was addressing. Fearing Chebon’s reaction, I quickly tried to placate him with an attempted justification of my outburst. “I’ve just had what I thought was the experience of a lifetime, only to discover I don’t even know what’s real and what’s for my entertainment, or whatever!”

“Your confusion is for your well-being.”

“For my what?” I was raising my voice again.

“You have a great susceptibility to pride.”

“Oh!” Actually thanks to your tender coaching, I think my humility is coming along quite nicely, now. I didn’t dare say that out loud but he probably read my mind anyhow. It is hard enough keeping one’s mouth shut when angry. How does one keep one’s thoughts shut?

“Well, you’re real!” I retorted.

“Maybe.”

My self-control was wearing dangerously thin.

“It’s pathetic how many simplifications and distortions had to be made to pander to all your weaknesses,” he added.

Did he delight in twisting the knife? Anger and disappointment fought for supremacy in the seething cesspool raging within me. Had I been hurled from world to world like a human canon ball, or was it all an illusion?

“Not saying.”

That infuriating ogre [I’ve since repented of that expression] was definitely reading my mind!

I think the most invasive medical examination would be preferable to being in the presence of this overwhelmingly holy messenger. Being eyed by someone whose laser vision could see through my every thread of clothing might be humiliating, but he was turning humiliation into an artform. I sensed he was peering into the most private parts of my innermost being; able to expose my most embarrassing secrets with such clinical precision as to discern shameful failings that not even I knew were there.

My thoughts returned to what he had been saying. “So I’ll never know?” I finally spat out.

“Not likely, your side of eternity.”

I was thoroughly peeved. As I look back now, however, I see a glimmer of hope in those words. “Not likely,” is crushingly disappointing but it does not mean impossible.

At the time, however, I recalled how the apostle Paul had learned things during a heavenly visit that he was not permitted to tell a soul. Before I could even formulate the question in my mind, Chebon interrupted my thoughts.

“See what I mean about pride?” He laughed and laughed. I thought it was rather rude.

“What secrets worthy of the name do you suppose you could be trusted with? Have you been given the tiniest hint of any aspect of your future, or any future earthly events, or as much as glimpsed the splendor of glorified humanity?”

With each sub-point, I slumped still lower, despite thinking it impossible after the previous sub-point.

“Unless you learn to die to self, you cannot truly live.” Then he added something that hit even harder. “Everything worth knowing that you have received is already preserved in the Bible for all to delight in – in the very book you falsely pride yourself in knowing.”

“Well – er . . .” Then I remembered what had precipitated his latest tirade. He’s definitely been reading my mind! I wanted to slither under the carpet. Would God let me feel so bad about myself? Could this be that diabolical angel returned to deceive me by disguising himself as Chebon?

Motor Mouth revved his gums again. “What makes you imagine that you have anything beyond the most pathetically rudimentary conception of the beauty and splendor and perfection of the glorious King of all? Why do you have the blind audacity not to realize that your understanding of the awesome Lord is so crude as to be an insult to the majesty of the Unbounded One?” He laughed almost hysterically.

My dizzy plans for adjusting to spiritual superstar status upon my return were sobering up splendidly.

He kept on laughing.

“Okay, I get it! You can stop laughing now,” I shouted. It wasn’t that I was angry (well, I was a bit) but I had to raise my voice to have any chance of being heard over the incessant roar of his laugher. He kept on and on but I think he heard me because he was now laughing even louder.

Is this an act? Am I so susceptible to pride that I need this? Then I remembered in horror about how Paul was tormented by a “thorn in the flesh” lest he fall into pride after his apparently far superior vision. I have no idea what that torment involved but maybe I should settle for the inferior before being deemed to require something equally unpleasant.

What I was seeing and hearing certainly seemed genuine, even if not exactly my idea of how angels should act, as he kept on laughing and I kept on feeling less and less impressed with myself. He might have been acting like a drunk but I had definitely sobered up. Maybe when my story gets out, some will treat me so much like a celebrity that this will keep me grounded. That thought was quickly countered by Who’d believe me anyhow? I have not a shred of proof that I’m no spiritual con artist. He was still laughing, so I had plenty of time to think of such things. To be honest, it was getting boring.

Still, whatever has happened, I’ve been entrusted with something special, I consoled myself. Chebon quickly calmed down and looked at me with what almost seemed disgust. “Have you not read in the Holy Word how Thomas saw the glorious Son risen from the dead? Did not the One who is True tell Thomas that those who are genuinely blessed are the ones who have not seen and yet believe?

“Love never envies, nor does it exalt itself. Love revels in ever-increasing joy because it delights in the blessings of others as if they were its own. Can you imagine how thrilling and fulfilling that is, little man?”

I’m unsure whether it was coincidence but a vague picture flashed in my mind of sports fans ecstatic over their team’s big win, even though they were merely spectators and had achieved nothing. Their names will never be in record books. They will never be offered lucrative deals or have media interviews. Nevertheless, they celebrated so wildly it is hard to imagine how the real heroes could possibly be happier.

Then I thought of a little boy beaming with pride as he boasted to his friends about his Daddy’s job. Next, I thought of parents over the moon with pride simply because their baby had taken her first step. They were more excited than their baby!

What if it were possible to multiply that a million-fold by delighting in every Christian’s achievements?

“Nevertheless,” continued the giant playing sardines in my bedroom, “if you insist on impoverishing yourself by envy, making yourself miserable when you could be on what you earthlings – er humans – call Cloud Nine, at least choose the great achievers. If you must envy, the ones to be envied are those who believe without special encounters or revelations. They are the ones heaven rightly honors forever.”

He mercifully paused as I tried to process this. Then he was off again: “Nevertheless, you will share the throne of the Supreme Ruler. You humans – are destined to rule worlds and galaxies; reigning in splendor forever. We celestials will bow to your every command. And why, little man? Because you are one of those for whom the eternal Son of God – the Boundless Lord of Glory through whom all things exist – shed his blood.”

Then he vanished.

Too much was going on for me to realize until later that unless this monster were less physical than he seemed, that was an appropriate exit. Not only would he have looked most undignified attempting to squeeze through the doorway, I shudder to think of the repair bill had he succeeded.

At the time, however, I was in no mood for such trivia. I flopped back into bed; angry, shocked, confused.

Despite having no idea how I could have managed it, I was determined never again to as much as think about what had happened. I failed. My annoying brain was no more willing to let go of the memories than a dog with a dirty bone.

Even minutes after my resolution to push it all from my consciousness, Chebon speaking of fearsome celestials bowing to my every command replayed in my head. At that, my thoughts shot to that terrifying clash with that monster who had claimed to be my master.

As I lay on my bed, compulsively trying to make sense of the crushing blow Chebon had just delivered, my mind wafted back over all the astonishing adventures I had thought I had had. I could not stomach calling them a dream. They seemed too real; too life-changing.

I recalled the ‘sparklers’. Until that first ‘sparkler’ hit, I had spent much of my life yearning for marriage. Would I now spend the rest of my earthly existence yearning for those ‘sparklers’? I marveled that I had survived those astounding sensations ripping through my body. It seems our pre-resurrection bodies are not designed for such sensory overload. I smiled. By surviving those ‘sparklers,’ I had not only cheated death, it felt like I had pulled off the most daring robbery in the universe and stolen some of heaven’s treasures.

My grin broadened. What wonders are ours for the taking! What daring exploits we can achieve if only we abandon faith in our abilities and supposed goodness, and drive our faith deep into the bedrock of the living Christ. But it’s Jesus’ victory. He didn’t cheat death. He paid the full horrific price.

I pondered for a moment Christ’s power to vaporize impossibilities, his eternal glory, his unapproachable perfection, and the matchless beauty of his moral courage as love propelled him to endure inconceivable torment for those who detest him. These inexhaustible riches, and so much more, are all there for the taking for everyone who heroically clings to faith, and refuses to waste what the eternal Son paid such a stupendous cost to make available to us.

I despised my pride as I recalled the exalted Lord of glory, the majestic King of kings, on his knees and then flat on the ground, romping with children – no, not even children; entities many of us in our arrogant ignorance would drag several notches lower than that. In my mind’s eye I saw again their glee and how, though devoid of sophistication, such uninhibited delight in him is the highest praise.

Then the memory hit of that dizzying experience that left me floundering in indecision as to who is privileged and who is not. Truly, when all is revealed, all our rantings against God’s temporary tolerance of injustice will come crashing down and we will stand in naked embarrassment at our unfounded accusations against the One who is forever good and forever right. He is always kind, always unselfish, always wise. What joys, what moral heights, what endless fulfillment await those who yield to his perfection!

My grin faded as I recalled my not-so-impressive escapes from those beastly angels. They had promised to return. Was that threat cancelled now that I’m back on earth? I thought for a moment and guessed that if they considered there were as little as a ten percent chance of conning me into being their slave, they would give it a go. I took to heart Peter’s warning, “Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” I relaxed a little, however, at the memory of Paul’s words, “The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet.” It might be tough and it might be scary but that’s how it will end for those who keep clinging to Christ.

Like a frenzied bird in a cage, my mind kept darting back and forth over all I’d recently witnessed. My thoughts flashed back to the angelic song that had wrung tears from my hardened heart as it opened my eyes to the ecstasy of discovering more of the boundless wisdom of God.

I had barely recalled lamenting lost opportunities to deepen my understanding of God’s ways when my mind whizzed forward to me squandering prayer and Bible time in that round room. I determined to do better from now on.

Before I could dwell on that, my mind was off again; this time almost overwhelming me with memories of the unexpected elation I felt when harmonizing with nature in that amazing forest. Losing my legs could hardly be more devastating than losing that wondrous connection with the rest of God’s creation.

Then my mind bolted to the entrancing beauty of that vast aquarium. It was just a flash because the next moment I was savoring the memory of that garden that seemed to have special healing powers. I had never been so alive. In a split second the words, “For me to live is Christ” came bounding into my consciousness. Then my mind fled to another of Paul’s famous statements, “I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far . . .”

How could I ever again be content with this grimy planet I was doomed to languish on for who knows how many years?