Redeemed By The Blood

It was just a regular day. I was around eighteen at the time, not really paying attention to my surroundings — just going through the motions, driving to work. I’d done that drive so many times before that I didn’t even have to think about it. I’d stop, go, turn — all on autopilot. The light ahead turned green, so I pressed the gas and started moving forward, calm and confident, not expecting anything to go wrong. An eighteen-wheeler on my right side sped through a red light, aimed directly toward my vehicle. I couldn’t even describe the impact. One moment I was driving and the next I was suspended in the sky. I didn’t register that a giant vehicle had slammed into my side of the vehicle. If there was pain, it seemed to vanish instantaneously upon contact. When I opened my eyes next, I was about a hundred yards or so in the sky, merely floating, removed from my body. Below me, the pick-up truck had been crushed sideways and twisted like a sponge. The vehicle was crumpled and curled inward. Glass was strewn across the concrete. The ambulance and police vehicles had blocked off the scene; their cars positioned with flashing lights, directing traffic to one lane away from the scene. And from above where I floated, I saw my body and the top of my head, which was a bloody mess with cuts everywhere. All from the collision of that eighteen-wheeler. As I watched them wrench the metal of the vehicle apart, I felt a peace unlike anything I had ever experienced previously. Such peace was unattainable even by being high. I floated naturally and easily. I was ready to fly away, to follow the clouds wherever they led. But suddenly, two men floated near me with great ease. They might have been angels, but reflecting on it now, I don’t think they were angels. I think they were men from Heaven, speakers from God. They had long white hair and long white robes with long white beards. They shone as if the sun was right behind them, glittering brightly. If I had been back in my body, I would have been blinded by the sight of them. One was on my left side and the other on my right side. I was looking back and forth at them as they were talking to me. I heard their voices loud and clear, but their mouths didn’t move. “The Lord is going to send you back,” they told me. I had no trouble with clarity at this time. All I knew was that I didn’t want to go back. Below, there was so much pain. In this space, I was removed from it. “I don’t want to go back. I want to go with you guys,” I replied. This sense of peace was what I had spent my whole life chasing without even realizing it. How could I leave this? “The Lord has plans for you,” they said. “You’re not finished. He’s going to send you back. He has a plan.” There was no arguing with these angelic figures. They didn’t listen to my protests as they flew away, vanishing amongst the clouds. When their figures had faded, I was still up in the air, just looking for about five or seven seconds longer, watching below as the paramedics and firemen managed to remove me from my truck. My body truly resembled death—one look at me and you’d expect that I’d never breathe again. Paramedics placed my mangled body on a stretcher which they loaded into the back of a bustling ambulance. And then, darkness overcame me.