My Journey to Heaven: What I Saw and How It Changed My Life (6 page)

I believe I was at one of these gates, one of three in one wall of a four-sided, cube-shaped fortification surrounding that beaming city called the heavenly Jerusalem.

John saw four walls and twelve gates, but I have no idea which one I was at, or which direction we were facing. If “my” gate was inscribed with the name of Dan, Reuben, Levi, or one of the other tribes, I didn’t recognize the markings as such.

Plus, this passage says each gate will be attended by an angel, and I saw Peter, not an angel.

And the gates I saw were not pearly. That’s right—not pearly!

Now, where does that belief come from, that heaven’s gate is “pearly”? Is it just some kind of folktale or story, passed down through the ages? Actually, the Bible offers real evidence for that concept, found in Revelation 21:21, in which the gates are actual huge pearls that cover the twelve entrances to the city: “And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; each one of the gates was a single pearl” (NASB).

As I tell you my story, there will be a few times where I just can’t explain what I saw. This is one of those times. Other heavenly travelers have seen pieces of the gate that they have described as pearly; I believe them. I also believe I was given a different vision, an image of heaven that included a gate made of heavy, dark wood and covered in twinkling lights. I’m at peace with that, and I hope you will be too. Rather than try to be as smart as God, we should just quit while we’re ahead.

A final note on this matter: my trusted spiritual advisors have prayed with me and for me as I’ve come to terms with my time in heaven, and they have suggested that perhaps the gates will indeed be enormous pearls when the New Heaven and the New Earth come to be, in God’s timing and plan. After all, I was given a hint of the Intermediate Heaven, the place believers go now when they die. It’s a different place from the New Heaven and New Earth we will inhabit after Christ’s return. That’s a very important distinction to make, so please take note.

My spiritual advisors could be right, or maybe it’s another answer altogether. Pearly or not, I’m so grateful I had the chance to stand in the shadow of that marvelous gate!

Was Anyone Turned Away?

When I share my heaven experience with people, I always get the same question: “Did you see anyone turned away at the gate? Did anyone ever come back out the same way they went in?” And the answer is no. No one ever came back once they were inside the doorway.

Why is this question such a burning issue for people? I think many folks, even believers, struggle with feeling 100 percent secure in where they will spend the afterlife. They suffer from uncertainty, and secretly wonder,
Is it possible that I might be turned away?
They wonder too about their loved ones who have gone before them. Maybe those loved ones were not vocal in their faith or were not living their lives according to God’s will for them before they died.

People I have spoken to wonder if maybe they can work harder to get into heaven. I always say, accept Christ first, that’s the key. Folks always seem to want to put the cart before the horse.

You would be amazed at the questions I have been asked, and the fears people harbor, deep in their hearts.

In my mind, every person there was meant to be there. By the time I got to the door, there were fifty or sixty people behind me. We were, all of us, God’s children, followers of his Son, destined for the kingdom of heaven. Everyone in front of me was quickly admitted to the presence of God, his Son, the angels, their loved ones, and all of the saints gathered there together.

I was at the top of the line, next to go inside that door of doors. And then abruptly the door swung open, and I was face-to-face with my best-loved person from the Bible, apart from Jesus, the apostle Peter.

W
hen the man opened the door, he stuck out his hand, eyes lit up in friendly welcome.

“Hello, Marv, my name is Peter. Welcome to heaven.”

The man who stood before me, holding the door of heaven open, was the apostle Peter himself, the “rock” on which Christ built his church, and Jesus’s dear friend.

I must admit—I gaped at him. How could I not? He had always been someone I admired and related to in the Bible, and here he was thrusting out a hand for me to shake.

Maybe I was too distracted by all the sights and sounds while I was in line at the gate, but I didn’t put together who he was before he introduced himself.

That’s when the lightning bolt hit me.
Peter!
I thought,
Oh my goodness! It just doesn’t get any better than this.
(Actually, it did get better, because that’s heaven. Just when you think you’ve never been happier, somehow you have another experience that tops the one before.)

Peter had a strong, confident handshake, and the look in his eyes was warm and open. Even though he was one of Jesus’s twelve disciples, and one of history’s most famous and admired men, Peter was as humble and down-to-earth as the guy who mows your lawn, cuts your hair, or catches your fish. He really did seem just like a fisherman, with a scrubby beard, shaggy hair, and clothes that looked like he had been wearing them for 1,000 years of hauling in nets and gutting fish.

He wore a fabric belt knotted around his waist, and his robes were dark and grayish, made of a heavier material than the gauzy white fabric the angels’ robes were made from. Not one bit fancy or “heavenly.”

It was fascinating to me how Peter’s clothes seemed to be real work clothes, genuine fishing garb, durable and warm, made for the cool winds on the sea. It’s always colder on the water, and his robes seemed designed for that.

He wore sandals.

Peter stood about five feet ten inches tall, solid and husky, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He was built like a wrestler, or maybe a bodybuilder who doesn’t take lifting weights too seriously but nonetheless is quite bulked up. I got the feeling if you were to find yourself in a conflict with him, Peter would stand there like a rock and fight you head-on. He had the manner of one determined; I knew that this guy, as a fisherman, would fish his heart out even if the waves were ten feet high.

He had a rounder face, and his dark hair was straight, not curly or wavy, mostly gray, and hung down to his neck, but it wasn’t too long (spoken like a clean-cut banker).
Here’s another typical older guy who needs a haircut
, I thought.

Peter seemed to me to be about fifty-five years old, give or take a few years. His eyes were grayish with a blue tint—that surprised me a bit, since most Jewish men have brown eyes—and his nose fit his face, which is to say it was a pretty good-sized, strong, normal nose. Peter had a really nice smile, and thankfully, he was smiling at me.

Peter seemed pleased and happy to see me, and his manner was warm, personable, confident, and friendly, all the traits I looked for when I used to hire people—or not hire them, as the case could sometimes be.

When I ran a bank, I would interview people for the top positions, and I would look for people I could trust right off the bat. Peter spoke in a way that made you believe what he was saying was true.

When conducting interviews, I could talk to someone for five minutes, and there would be something off about the tone of their voice or the fidgety look in their eyes, their shifty mannerisms, and I wouldn’t hire them, even if they paid me.

Over countless interviews, I was always looking for people who were confident and decisive, but not too aggressive, kind but not a pushover. We had all kinds of customers at the bank, including those who never smiled a day in their lives and would make your day miserable if they could. My job was often to find employees who could serve those kinds of customers. Peter would have been one of those guys I would have hired. I kept a lot of secrets over the years as a banker, and I could tell Peter would have made a trustworthy secret-keeper.

Wow—the one and only Peter, standing in front of me! Peter, the Rock, a friend, disciple, apostle, sinner, and saint. He was more than an inspiring figure in Scripture; to me, he was like a friend I knew well. Maybe a role model or mentor would be an even better description. Peter was just like me in some good ways and not-so-good ways. And now it seemed like we two determined, decisive men (not to mention two stubborn mules) could actually be real, face-to-face friends.

He stood a couple of feet away, a comfortable distance to have a conversation with someone. We made a little bit of small talk—don’t ask me about what. Maybe I was too excited about meeting my Bible hero, but I honestly can’t recall what we chatted about those first few moments. I am pretty sure it wasn’t about the weather.

“I’ve got to tell you, Peter. You were always one of my favorites in the Bible,” I said.

“Why is that?” he asked, curious and smiling slightly.

“Because you messed up about as many times as I did in my life,” I answered.

Peter got a big, wide smile on his face and nodded his head, as if to say,
Uh huh, I know that’s true!
The apostle and I understood one another perfectly.

Peter did blow it a bunch of times. He was a hothead, and he sometimes got his priorities messed up. At times, his judgment was flawed, just like the rest of us.

But he was a good, strong follower of Christ, someone who dropped his fishing nets to take up a life of risk and danger for his Master’s sake.

This shaggy guy standing before me, wearing fishing clothes and nodding with an understanding gleam in his eyes—Peter helped change the world!

Who Was Peter?

I had always been intrigued by Peter’s life as I knew it from the Bible, but after meeting him face-to-face, my interest in him got a lot stronger. Who was this gatekeeper to the kingdom of heaven? What was his life like?

The scruffy fisherman met Jesus through his brother Andrew. The two brothers came from the fishing village of Bethsaida, which means “place of nets” or “fishery.” (That would be like me coming from a town called “Lots of Banks.”) Day in and day out, they lugged their nets into old boats and tossed them out, hoping for a good haul of tilapia, the money catch of the Sea of Galilee. Today, tilapia is even nicknamed “St. Peter’s Fish.”

The brothers, who came, not surprisingly, from a fishing family, were living in Capernaum, a lakeside town at the northern end of Galilee, when Jesus called them to let their fishing nets fall and become his disciples, fishers of men.

The first thing Andrew did after meeting Jesus was run to find his brother, so Peter could meet this Messiah too.

And the first thing his Savior did was give Simon a new name: “Jesus looked at him and said, ‘You are Simon son of John. You will be called Cephas’ (which, when translated, is Peter)” (John 1:40–42).

Peter, of course, means “rock.”

After they met and Jesus gave him his new name, Peter rarely left his Messiah’s side, traveling with him in his ministry and quickly becoming the leader and spokesman of the twelve disciples (of whom seven were fishermen).

Obviously, Peter was a grown man when Jesus chose him to be one of his closest disciples, which means he was probably born around the end of the first century BC.

He was also a married man, according to Mark 1:30, the account of Jesus healing Peter’s mother-in-law.

I wonder . . . before Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law later on, what did Peter’s wife think about her husband suddenly quitting his job, and the only means of income they likely had known, and following some renegade prophet? I wish I had been a fly on the wall the day Peter came home and made that announcement!

We know he lacked any formal education, as did John, also one of the “inner three” group closest to Jesus. Acts 4:13 says this: “When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were
unschooled
,
ordinary men
, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus.”

Peter was a blue-collar guy in a blue-collar place: Palestine, the area considered by educated Jewish folks to belong to
Am harez
, or “the people of the land.” This term is not as nice as it sounds. In their day, the term was used in a belittling way to describe those who were ignorant of the niceties and deeper values of Judaism and the Jewish way of life.

When Peter became a man, his home turf was very poor and terribly tense because it was occupied by the Romans. Can you imagine our country being occupied by anyone? It’s hard to even wrap my mind around it. I bet you anything the people in Palestine were fed up with Rome, and they were looking for a way out from under that heavy oppression.

And then came Jesus, who saved Peter in a way he never expected and didn’t always understand. He watched Jesus turn water into wine, transform a few fishes and loaves into a meal for a huge crowd, and even walk on water. He witnessed Jesus raising Jairus’s daughter and Lazarus from the dead, and was even given a glimpse of his Master in his truest glory, in the transfiguration on Mount Tabor. There Peter saw his dear friend talk to Moses, Israel’s greatest teacher, and Elijah, its greatest prophet, though they had been dead for a thousand years or more. There Peter saw Jesus shine as only God can shine:

Jesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain. His appearance changed from the inside out, right before their eyes. His clothes shimmered, glistening white, whiter than any bleach could make them. Elijah, along with Moses, came into view, in deep conversation with Jesus.

Peter interrupted, “Rabbi, this is a great moment! Let’s build three memorials—one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah.” He blurted this out without thinking, stunned as they all were by what they were seeing.

Just then a light-radiant cloud enveloped them, and from deep in the cloud, a voice: “This is my Son, marked by my love. Listen to him.”

The next minute the disciples were looking around, rubbing their eyes, seeing nothing but Jesus, only Jesus. (Mark 9:2–8 Message)

During my time in heaven, I received a small peek at how God shines, and I know I will never be the same.

Yet, Peter, who witnessed his dear friend’s transfiguration, still kind of blew it, interrupting the holiest of moments by blurting out his idea of a memorial! And he managed to make his gravest mistakes
after
seeing all of these wondrous things with his own eyes. The Rock became a stumbling block, more in his own way than anyone else’s, an example for the ages of how darn human we all are.

I cringe at the story of how Peter betrayed Jesus, just when he needed him most—it’s so hard to read—but I also see my own flawed heart in it:

All this time, Peter was sitting out in the courtyard. One servant girl came up to him and said, “You were with Jesus the Galilean.”

In front of everybody there, he denied it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

As he moved over toward the gate, someone else said to the people there, “This man was with Jesus the Nazarene.”

Again he denied it, salting his denial with an oath: “I swear, I never laid eyes on the man.”

Shortly after that, some bystanders approached Peter. “You’ve got to be one of them. Your accent gives you away.”

Then he got really nervous and swore. “I don’t know the man!”

Just then a rooster crowed. Peter remembered what Jesus had said: “Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” He went out and cried and cried and cried. (Matt. 26:69–75 Message)

But Jesus always saw in him the man of rock he would become after this experience of messing up so badly. Kind of like how Jesus saw in me the decent and loving husband and father he knew I could be, even though I wasn’t always decent and loving.

In my younger days, I drank too much and didn’t take my faith seriously even though I knew better. Peter thought he could do everything, just like I used to think. We all realize at some point we are not as good as we think we are. We disobey. We fail those we love.

I made a lot of mistakes in college, when I really didn’t apply myself the way I should have, not to my studies or my growth as a believer. It wasn’t until I was married and in the Army that I realized God’s way was the right way and my way was the wrong way. And then I began to build my life, step by step, on the rock of my salvation.

Jesus knew Peter felt horrible remorse over disowning him in that courtyard, so after his resurrection, he appeared to him first, before any of the other disciples. Peter, who had failed so badly, became the leader of the newborn church, as Jesus had predicted, and the very first to preach the Gospel. Jesus gave Peter a wonderful gift, entrusting his first followers under Peter’s care.

The fisherman spent the rest of his life, after Jesus died and rose again, telling others the Good News. After a lifetime of serving his Lord as a missionary, teacher, and evangelist, brave, stubborn Peter died a cruel death for his faith. Tradition tells us that Peter was crucified upside down in Rome during Emperor Nero’s terrible persecution, which began in AD 64, the same persecution Peter warned the early believers about in his first letter. They needed that letter so badly. According to historians, many Christians died heinous deaths, being torn to pieces by dogs, burned alive, or nailed to crosses like Peter.

Peter’s message to them was one of comfort and hope, full of encouragement to stand firm in Christ, like he did, to the end. Jesus’s faith in him was not misplaced—after all, Peter really proved to be a rock.

A couple of years after my heaven experience, Ruth and I journeyed to some of the Bible lands, including Rome, the place from which Peter wrote his letter of warning and comfort to the first Christians, and the city in which he likely died.

As I stood quietly at St. Peter’s tomb, under St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City, I wondered to myself about the man who greeted me so warmly in heaven. Was that earthy fisherman with the firm handshake really buried here, under this shrine of marble and gold? Many pieces of archaeological evidence suggested he was.