----Nearly 26 years ago, when as an unsaved single girl I gave birth to my daughter, I evidently died during the delivery. Though I awoke in intensive care, and nurses confessed that I had lost a dangerous amount of blood, no one admitted to me what had really happened. But I knew. How? Because I was taken to hell. The remembrance of the experience isn't acute (it's more like having a memory of a memory), but that is because it would be impossible to live in this life with the burden of such a memory. One would go insane.
I was raised in a "dysfunctional" family--sexual, emotional and physical abuse, drunkeness, a promiscuous mother. . .etc. By the time I was nineteen I was ready to deliver my second out-of-wedlock child (the first, born right after my 15th birthday, had reluctantly been relinquished for adoption). My only contact with Christianity were some vague recollections of attending Sunday School at a neighborhood church one summer--probably because my hung-over step-father wanted to get us four noisy children out of the house for a few hours on Sunday morning. The experience made NO sense to me: my clearest memory of that church was of marching around a large basement room with all of the other children, waving banners and singing "Onward Christian Soldiers." I felt more than a little stupid about the whole thing. Growing up, I knew nothing about sin, heaven, hell, faith in Christ. . .in fact, my spiritual interests tended more toward Ouija boards and hokey seances.
In any event, during the time in question I started labor for my daughter, went to the hospital, was placed in a room by myself (my mom was at the hospital, but I requested that she stay outside the room), and almost immediately started hard labor. Nurse rushed in and, realizing that the doctor was NOT going to make it on time, stuck a gas mask over my face and instructed me to start counting backward.
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It would be comparable to watching your children being horrendously tortured, and being able to do nothing about it, knowing the agony would go on before your face for all eternity, that you would feel every torture they felt, with no possible means of escape. Only it would be even worse than this. Nothing I could tell you would describe the horror. |
The next thing I recall is being in a place of incredible torment, with other tormented souls all around. The interesting thing is that the torment I felt was caused by being confronted with all the sins I'd committed, finally knowing how awful they were, and that there was now no way to ever escape this terrible heritage. The blinders were taken from my eyes, so that I had a geniune knowledge of the utter horribleness of sin. It was not only knowledge, however--it was actually seeing all of my sin (and the ongoing sin of others still on earth) all at one time, and not being able to escape or do anything about it. It would be comparable to watching your children being horrendously tortured, and being able to do nothing about it, and knowing the agony would go on before your face for all eternity, and that you would also feel every torture they felt, with no possible means of escape--only it would be even worse than this. Nothing I could tell you would describe the horror I remember feeling.
In this place there was someone (I don't know if it was the Lord, but suspect it may have been, since whoever it was evidently had the "keys" to hell) that I was pleading with; interestingly, I wasn't pleading for my own sake. The sense of hopelessness was so total, and the knowledge that I DESERVED this horrible fate so definite, that it never crossed my mind to ask for mercy for myself. No--I was observing the horrible sins of my mother, and begging FOR HER SAKE to be allowed to come back and warn her about the terrible things she was doing. Somehow, I knew she needed Christ, though until this time in my life I knew nothing of the plan of salvation. Keep in mind that I also knew nothing of the Biblical story of Lazarus and the rich man, though this experience closely parallels it!
The next thing I remember is waking up, and nurses scurrying around. My daughter (Praise God!) had been born hale and hearty. I tried to tell others about the experience I'd had--but no one wanted to hear it. It was all VERY real to me for several weeks, but the circumstances of my life kept me so preoccupied (my mother disappeared with a boy-friend, so I had to scurry around to find a place for me and my baby daughter to live) that eventually the memory seemed more like a dream. I could liken my memory of being in hell to that of giving birth: I recall that it was really awful, but the experiential remembrance of it has mercifully faded away. I never for one second have doubted the reality of what I experienced.
Within a year the Lord placed Christian people in my life, who showed me the way to salvation. It's been a long, difficult journey, but He has redeemed every event of my life, and brought healing in His wings. I now have a wonderful husband, four grown children, and a prospering writing career. And I know that I have hardly begun to taste of the mercies of God. Hallelujah!
I hope this gives you some insight about the subject of hell. People have tried to convince me that there is no such place. I know better. Perhaps those of you who read this will pray for me to have an open door with my mother. She has never really listened to my exhortations with anything other than perfunctory interest. . .claims to have been "saved" with her cousin as a little girl. While she's settled down with one man for many years now, it is plainly obvious that there is not one iota of spiritual fruit in her life, and that she is still in need of reconciliation with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. A heavy smoker all her life, she recently started coughing up blood. . .and I'd had a burden of prayer for her for several weeks prior to this. I believe that she has only a short time, and would ask that you agree with me in prayer that our heavenly Father will soon draw her by His Spirit to repentance and faith in Jesus Christ.
God bless and keep you --until we all meet in heaven!
Brenda Imus