Jesus is The Way
By Keith Donnellan
|I simply don't believe 99% of the accounts of people
claiming to have died and gone to heaven or hell, or of people's near death experiences. The other
1% I am skeptical of, or simply non-committal.
I have included this article only because I personally know the author, but I still cannot guarantee it's veracity.
When I was a kid I was sent to Sunday school where they taught me the basic stories of the Bible. I went to primary school and we were taught about being good, not to tell lies and to pray every night on your knees before you went to bed. I had lost my sight and left hospital a day before my 9th birthday, and then I was sent to a school for the blind where I was bullied. I left that school and went to high school where I was harassed and beaten by other kids that could see and were bigger than me. I couldn't understand what was going wrong! They taught me through Scripture to be kind and gentle, and yet I had lost my sight and was being harassed instead of being given a reward for being good, so I rebelled.
I went the way of the world and learnt how to fend for myself and instead of being a target to bullies, I became a threat to them. It was three months before my 19th birthday when the Lord removed His hand from me, and because I was without His protection, I died. A car doing over 70 kilometers per hour ran me down. The paramedics worked desperately over me while I was still laying on the road in the pouring rain but I wasn't breathing and they pronounced me dead, but just then blood trickled down the back of my throat which made me cough, and I began to breathe again. Because anesthetic would have ended my life, the surgeon could only stop the bleeding before sending me to an intensive care unit, and going to meet my parents to tell them their only son wasn't likely to last the night, as he had given me a 1 in 100 chance of living. They were taken into my room and saw something that resembled an Egyptian mummy lying on a hospital bed with countless tubes and wires coming out of various places and leading to the monitoring machines that hummed, clicked and flashed lights throughout my room. My head and body were almost entirely covered in bandages, which were stained with blood and smelt strongly of antiseptic. There was another smell and that was the smell of death. My mother kissed me for what she thought was the last time and then was asked to leave.
The next morning I was still breathing and my treatment continued without much hope or encouragement for my parents. The morning they were going to open up my skull to relieve the pressure on my brain, my surgeon walked into my room to leave instructions with the nurse prior to the operation just a short time away, when he noticed I was no longer showing signs indicative of pressure on the brain and after an examination, my operation was cancelled. He then told my parents that despite this I would be severely brain damaged and I would probably lose the ability to walk unaided. I might have a chance with crutches and calipers but due to my head injury a wheelchair might be the best alternative.
It took several operations to set my broken left ankle, the two breaks in the left femur, work on my shattered pelvic bone and set the six broken ribs that had speared into my vitals. They had bolted my dislocated left arm back into the shoulder socket and stitched up all the gashes and then the therapy began. I was given intensive physiotherapy to get my body as functional as possible and nine weeks later, I walked out of the hospital on crutches. I had grown 7.5cm in that time and that wasn't the only difference. I had changed from the inside forever and I am talking about my outlook and views on life and the people I meet.
I had been blind just over nine years when I died and I can remember what happened to me when my spiritual body left my physical body. I remember falling backwards down a very long and dark tunnel and watching the light at the top of the tunnel growing smaller and smaller the further I moved away from it, and then it went out altogether. As soon as the light disappeared I was in a total darkness that was a spiritual darkness. It was blacker than the blackest night. I relate it to being the kind of darkness that might have covered the world for three hours when Jesus died on the cross. I now know that this was caused because God had left me totally alone. The second God left me, the terror began and I believe that terror is only part of the hellish existence that awaits all unrepentant sinners, and the remainder of that horror is what is seen and endured in those eternal flames. At first I could see the light as I wasn't in my physical body and therefore I didn't have blind eyes but when the light disappeared, my blindness came back. My memory is very clear about this because I was in a spiritual world and had left my injured body behind me for a short period of time. I knew I was in hell when I stopped falling and I knew that I didn't want to look behind me because I would see things there that I never wanted to see. I remember saying to myself "I'm dead but I can't die now, I have too much to do with my life," and then I reached out to where I last saw the light.
The Lord allowed me to die because He wanted to show me what life would be like without Him. Yes, there is life after death and it is our decision how we spend the time we have on earth and where we want to spend our lives after we depart from this world. I do not believe I would have my sight if I had remained in hell because only God can restore sight but He allowed me to have vision for that brief time that I may witness what was happening to me and where I was going, so I’d be able to come back and tell others of what I have seen. No, I did not see flames or demons because I refused to look behind me but I have no doubt that they were there and coming towards me to claim me as their own. What the Lord showed me and other people when I left hospital was how quickly I recovered, both physically and mentally, from my fatal accident. It wasn't a near fatal accident because I did clinically die three times to be exact. I was walking and dancing without crutches and calipers the third day I was out of hospital and three months later I passed a brain test with flying colours. I ran in a 12 kilometre run to raise money for charity another three months later, and a week after that, I rode a tandem bicycle 280 kilometres, just to be able to say I did it. I bought myself two horses and was able to stay in the saddle despite their efforts to unseat me, because my legs had become strong again. When I was forty years old, I did five courses in computer technology for fun and got five diplomas for my effort. The lowest score I got was 89%, then I got 95%, and in the last three exams I got 100%.
Now that you have read my story and know the extent of the damage I suffered and the way I recovered so completely and quickly, do you understand why I think I was blessed to die and go through what I went through, that I might know what I know now? I do know there is life after death, I do know that we are all mere mortals and I do know that Jesus is the way, for without Him there is nothing. I know all this because, my friend, I speak from personal experience.