I’ve read many accounts of experiences in which people who do not know Christ claim to have gone to Heaven, or its outskirts, and were reassured by a “being of light” that all is well with them. I’m convinced that though some have had real supernatural experiences, the one who reassured them was not Jesus. Obviously, Satan has great vested interests in deceiving unbelievers into thinking that what awaits them after death is a place of serenity rather than of eternal punishment. Scripture says, “Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:15).
Years ago, one of my friends, a trustworthy and credible doctor, recounted an experience that really disturbed him. He observed a patient who appeared very close to dying have terrifying and inconsolable visions of where he was about to go upon his death. He actually recovered, but when the doctor attempted to share the gospel with him, the man remembered his dreadful experience as a wonderful dream of Heaven. This incident wound up as a story thread in my novel Dominion:
Clarence called Ollie from the hospital to update him on his father.
“You won’t believe this,” Ollie said. “Norcoast is in the hospital. He attempted suicide.”
“What? Which hospital?”
“Right where you’re calling from—Emanuel.”
Clarence went to the front desk to get Norcoast’s room number. He’d just been moved off critical condition and out of ICU but was still under close monitoring. Clarence went to his room on the fourth floor and stood over him. The councilman was drained of color, pale and pasty. Unconscious, he lay very still. Clarence stood over him for ten minutes before Norcoast started to move. He shuddered and trembled. He started mumbling, appearing to be seeing things and hearing voices.
“O God, they’re trying to get me.” Clarence backed away from the tortured voice. “Monsters, demons attacking me.” His arms flailed. “It’s so hot. Hurts so bad. No. Stay away. Don’t hurt me.” After a few minutes of incoherence, he calmed down a little, then spoke again, eyes closed. “Gone now. Where is everybody? I’m so alone. I’m burning up! Help me!” He screamed out, writhing, soaking himself in sweat, casting the sheets to his side and bumping against the bedrails. Two nurses ran into the room.
Clarence backed out of the room, shaken. He went directly to the hospital chapel and prayed fervently for his father, but even more fervently for Reggie Norcoast.
The next morning Clarence came early to the hospital, first visiting his father, who was unconscious. Then he went up two floors to visit Norcoast. The door was closed. A nurse told him the councilman had had terrible hallucinations all night, but he was now awake and out of trouble.
Clarence peeked in the door. Norcoast, usually vibrant and healthy, looked pale and peaked, like a man who’d been through a wringer. Clarence knocked lightly on the doorframe.
“Hello, Reg, can I come in?”