Eternal Choices

Beautiful Gates- Eternal Hope

The story posted below is a true account of the night I gave my life to Jesus Christ. I pray it will minister to you. Allow yourself to get swept into the truth of Heaven, the beauty of Jesus, and the reality that we all must make that decision- what will we experience...Heavens' Gates or Hells' Flames?

A Decision Made in Eternity

          “Can you even understand what he is saying?”, a fellow student whispered to me. It was the fall of 1997, and we were sitting in a college algebra class listening to a first-generation Chinese professor attempt to holler instructions across the vast auditorium of nearly 150 teenagers. “Um…no…sorry. I can’t make out a word.” I answered back sheepishly. Truth-be-told, I had not been able to grasp one concept he had droned on about in the nearly three-week eternity that was the class so far.

          As he continued to ramble on about facts and figures, that sounded as much like his foreign accent as they did make sense, I began to drift away to a much more pleasant place in my mind. I gazed around the class and sized up my fellow classmates. Most of them were people like me; freshman, or what the upper class-men referred to as fresh-meat. This was my first semester in college, my first time away from home, my first time trying new things, my first everything. I was terrified to say the least. Even though I was at UT Arlington, which was only 27.8 miles from my mom’s house (yes, I had clocked it down to the tenth of a mile), it felt like I was on another planet. In another galaxy. In a totally different universe. I felt so alone.

          My reverie was interrupted by the voice of my professor calling out, “that’s all for today class” in his syrupy-thick accent. “How in the world do they expect us to learn algebra from someone who barely has a grasp on the English language?”, I asked myself. Math came hard enough for me when I could understand what the teacher was saying. I felt like the huge room was caving in on me. It was like sitting in a large amphitheater, watching a dramedy unfold on the stage. Except, I seemed to be the only one having any trouble fitting into this “college life”. Hearing as though through a foggy, rain-soaked forest, I listened to the voices of the jovial collegiates gathering their things, laughing and discussing where they were headed next.

          “Hey, Jennifer!", a chipper voice reached out. Before me stood a girl I barely recognized, but her friendly face shone like a million sunrises on my dreary thoughts. “Hi!”, I answered back brightly. Would I find a friend at last? I held my breath for what seemed an eon. “I just wanted to give you one of these flyers. Our church is putting on this production, and I thought you might be interested in coming.” She handed me a bright green piece of paper with some advertisement written on it for a play. My heart sank just a few feet. “Oh, well…thanks.” I muttered. I tried to paste my smile back on, but she had already moved on. I guess her friendly smile was the requirement for her task. It would be hard to pass out flyers for a church play with a scowl on. I gathered my things and turned to walk out of the room.

          As I was walking across the commons, heading to my next dreaded lecture, I glanced at the paper she had handed me. “Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames!” the flyer screamed out. Pictures of what I assume were angels and demons wrestling over the body of a very comically drawn stick man were placed in the circle of words. It gave the location, date, time, and all other pertinent information at the bottom of the flyer. Something sparked inside of me, just a small flicker of hope that I was yet to recognize. I shoved the flyer into my protruding backpack, and trudged the rest of the way to my own version of hell.

          But I could not get that flyer out of mind.

          I tried to stop thinking about it during my next two classes. I tried not to think about it as I ate lunch at my isolated table in the back of the dining room, with my nose buried in a thick novel. I tried not to think about it as I walked back to my dormitory apartment, where I knew what waited for me. My overly-confident roommate. A junior who was about to apply for the nursing program; the same program I had sought education at UT for. Would I receive encouragement and affirmation from her? NO! All I ever heard was the wails and cries of her frustration- “Oh My Word! You will be so lucky if you EVER make it into this program Jennifer! It is next to impossible”. “Great”, I thought!

          The LAST thing I wanted to do that night was sit and listen to another two-hour lecture about how incredibly difficult the nursing program was at UT, and how only a few people that apply get in. What was I supposed to do after two years of college if I didn’t make it in? Just sit and stew like a tomato? No way José! I already hated college. I hated this school. I hated my roommate. And I hated myself for thinking that I could EVER possess what it took to make it in this arena.

          I dug that flyer out of my backpack and picked up my phone. “Hey babe, someone in my algebra class gave me a flyer to a play tonight. Wanna go with me?” I had dialed my boyfriend, Jon. I wanted to go, just for kicks, but I didn’t want to do another thing alone. Jon was busy doing his own thing. He had stayed with his parents right after high school. He didn’t go to college- was just gonna try a trade school or something. “Sure”, he said, “what time should I pick you up?” “Just meet me here at my place, and we will go in my car.” I answered back. We confirmed that he would arrive approximately 7 pm, and we would head out.

          As we walked into the church building, that spark that had lit within me a few hours earlier began to pulsate. I could literally feel the rhythm of the room, and sense the electricity in the air. I turned to ask Jon if he noticed something funny about this place, but he had wandered off to look at some literature set up on a table. He was the son of Assembly of God Missionaries, so being in a church was nothing new for him. In fact, it was nothing new for me. I had been in and out of church most of my high school years; although it was mostly on a social basis. Church can be fun; if there are enough lights, sounds, and friends to keep it interesting, right?

          We found a seat in the middle of the auditorium, and I began to look around. There were so many people. This must either be a great play, or church is just the happening place to be on a Wednesday night. The lights began to flicker, signaling people to locate their seats and allow the play to begin.

          As the lights dimmed, the entire theater was thrown into utter black. I could barely see my hand in front of my face. I reached out instinctively and grabbed Jon’s hand, and he chuckled at my innocence. The voice of an old woman could be heard from the stage, moaning and crying out in pain. “Oh Lord, how much longer are you going to leave me on this forsaken earth? My husband is gone. My family is gone. I am broken in my body and tired. I want to come home. Jesus! Please!” In an instant, glorious light shone from the stage, and the feeble old woman was now running back and forth across the stage with the fervor of a small child. The lights began to slowly illuminate in the middle of the stage, where a grand stairway sat guarded by angels and two beautifully ornate doors opened as one. A man, splendid as the sun, dressed in white robes pure as fresh snow, descended from the doors to meet the woman on the stage. She fell to her knees, crying out “Jesus! Master!”. He gently assisted her to stand and she embraced him. Together they ascended the stairs and went through the open doors as one.

          I didn’t even realize I had been holding my breath, as I released the stale air from my lungs. It was beautiful; watching someone meet Jesus. Seeing the look of utter enchantment encompass her face as she watched her Savior descend the stairs to meet her, and welcome her into His heaven.

          Just then, a horrendous screeching sound accosted our ears, filling the auditorium with pain. The room, once again black as pitch, pulsated with evil laughter. The stage, barely lit this time, revealed a mother and daughter pantomiming a drive in their car. You could hear their voices softly above the rise and fall of maniacal laughter in the background, and the eerily soft music that grated on my every nerve played on. “Mommy, don’t you want to hear about what we learned in our Sunday School class?” A little girl’s voice melodically chirped from the backseat of their car. The distracted mother glanced back and answered briefly, “Of course honey, just not right now. Mommy’s busy driving.” The little girls face fell a bit as she pressed on, “Mommy, won’t you come to church with me on Sunday? They have a special place we can sit together and hear the man talk to us about Jesus. Oh mommy! Jesus is so wonderful! I met Him a few weeks ago, and He makes my heart so happy! I wish you would meet Him too!” The mother again looked back, this time with more aggravation in her voice “Yes, sweetie. I told you I would try to come sometime. You know mommy is just very busy, and I don’t really have time for chur…” Her voice was cut off by a squeal and a scream, as the car plunged over the side of a bridge. There was a sickening thud, and then the cur-splash of the make-believe water resonated through the room. Then there was silence. An eerie silence.  Not the same beautiful silence we had encountered in the first parody. A sickening, gut wrenching silence. Black figures began to slink across the stage. We saw the young mother and her small child come stumbling onto the stage. “Where are we mommy?” “I don’t know honey.” The mother whispered in a fearful voice. Something black brushed past her. Then another pulled her hair. One began to tug at her arm. One by one, they came. The tormentors. And kicking and screaming and agonizing, they drug her off the stage, with her little girls’ screams following.

          I sat in disbelief. What kind of play was this? I gingerly reached up to touch the tears that were soaking my cheeks. I didn’t even know I had been crying. I turned to Jon, who was looking on in amazement. I started to open my mouth to say “let’s get out of here”, when it happened. That glorious music swelled and broke the darkness. The light from the middle of the stage, where the doors to “heaven” stood, pierced through the shadows and illuminated every inch of the auditorium. The little girl, now sitting in a crumpled heap on the stage, shoulders quivering with her sobs, was oblivious to what was happening. The doors opened, and once again, Jesus descended the stairs. He reached the small child, and tenderly gathered her in his arms. She considered his face, beaming with a love to outlast the ages, and softly smiled. She touched his beard, and ran her fingers through his soft brown hair. She buried her head against his breast and softly whispered, “Jesus”, as he turned and walked back up the stairs with her safely in His arms.

          I was undone. What in the world was going on? The reality of the play hit me like a million sandbags. Heaven's gates. Hell's flames. One by one, the parodies rolled past. Some that had made their decision to follow Christ were welcomed with the glittering sounds of heaven and the warm embrace of Jesus. Others, who had chosen to reject His salvation, were drug off stage by the evil black things. The tormentors. The small flicker that was now a flame became a burning fire within my soul. I could hear the Lord asking me, “child…which route do you choose?" I screamed inside. I was desperate for the play to be over, in order that I might answer His question to me. As I figured, having been a part of enough church services for familiarity, once the play was concluded the pastor took the stage. He began to talk to us of brevity of what we had just witnessed. He proclaimed in a loud, booming voice “Tonight! Tonight, you must make a choice. Heaven or hell. What will it be?”

          Jon started to gather his things, oblivious to my tear stained cheeks and red eyes. He looked up in amazement. “Jennifer? Are you ok?” I silently pleaded with him to walk with me to the front. I ached with every fiber of my being to run with the speed of a cheetah, but I was too nervous to make that trek alone. “Do you want to go forward?” he asked quietly. I simply shook my head in affirmation and turned to move. As I stepped out of my seat, I felt lighter and lighter with every inch. I kept my gaze locked on those steps in the middle of the stage and that light that still shone gloriously from the open doors of “heaven”.

          When we arrived at the front, the minister looked around at the crowd that had gathered. He smiled; a genuine and loving smile at each of us, and said, “Jesus is well pleased with your response. I would like to lead you in a simple prayer that will seal the decision you have made to place your trust in Him.” As I worked through each word of that prayer, professing my faith not only in the Jesus I had witnessed on the stage, but also in the fire that was blazing within my heart, I felt whole. I felt clean. I felt as renewed as a spring sunrise that warms the dew from a fresh field.

          As we all filed out of that auditorium, I glanced back at the cast lined up outside in the foyer. The eyes of “Jesus” met mine. We locked gazes for what seemed to be an eternity, and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so gently. I felt Him whisper in my heart, “I love you. You will never be alone again.”