Not long ago my wife and I hosted a small group meeting at our house – you know, the thing where a few couples from church get together for some bible study, finger foods, and conversation about faith.
Wow – that just sounded scarily churchy-cliche and conventional. But really, it was refreshing, as our group became comfortable talking about the questions and doubts and acceptance of the mystery of God’s work in our lives.
During our last meeting, towards the end of the evening after we had all probably shared far too many intimate details than anyone had ever planned to, one gentleman, a recently retired manager from an aerospace company, stunned us with a story of his near-death afterlife experience.
I have read about things like this, but never met anyone who had personally experienced it.
I forget even what prompted his story, other than the collective longing we were expressing for a closer connection to God’s purpose in our everyday lives. The room got quiet as this gentleman began to describe how he was literally pronounced dead one day in a helicopter while being flown to the city hospital. He went on to talk about the sensation of leaving his body, going towards a light, the feeling of indescribable peace and love, recognizing loved ones from the past – “not as bodies, but as streams of light…”, the whole nine yards.
He was not being dramatic or trying to gain attention. This very technical, factual, man was being vulnerable in a way that you get the feeling didn’t happen too often.
Then, he said he was somehow given a choice to return, and he did. Back into the searing pain of his body. He paused, unsure of what to say next, while the rest of us felt chills washing over our limbs as the fire crackled.
You would think this type of intensely spiritual life-after-death experience would have a profound impact – a renewed sense of purpose, gratefulness, a bigger, better perspective on dealing with all the stress and harshness of our lives. And this man was no different – at first.
Once he recovered from his severe illness, he vowed to live differently, not to get caught up in the things that suddenly seemed so trivial, to appreciate life more fully, to be more loving and giving and ever-aware of God’s greater purpose.
“So what was it like when you went back to work?” I asked, thinking about the major attitude adjustment I had coming upon entering my office the next morning.
“Well,” he said, “I was able to hold on to that positive and peaceful point of view for about six months. But then, unfortunately, I got sucked right back into the grind.”
“Oh.”
We didn’t quite know what to say after that. It was a bit disappointing and anti-climactic, to say the least. He knew it. too.
“Look,” he said, trying to explain himself. “The intensity of the job just forces you back into it. You can’t be a leader and not pay attention to the details of the job you are doing.”
Maybe he is hyper-responsible, or a perfectionist. Maybe his job was just really difficult. Maybe he was getting massive pressure from his boss.
But still, after an after-life experience?
And I was thinking, here’s someone who has actually experienced the bliss of God’s heavenly light, and still he has trouble maintaining perspective at work. If he can’t do it, will it ever be possible to have a responsible job and remain spiritually grounded?
I’d like to give you some tips and pointers right now, but instead, I think we’ll just stew on this for a little while.
