Doubting Thomas, God and Me
Doubting Thomas, God and Me
[Sacred Light: Breathing in God]
By Dennis L. Siluk
This is a story about an awakening. At the time I experience this happening, I thought it could be what my true calling might be. Also, what my next step in life was going to be. Maybe even a truer purpose for me on Earth.
This profound inner awakening I call the Sacred Light, happened one evening in 1984, in my home city of St. Paul, Minnesota, USA. After taking a bath, and in prayer, a white light began to pour into my whole body simultaneously, like a process of osmosis. I could perceptively feel an ocean of white light, ardent; it engulfs my entire body, like a canopy. I felt somewhat in a trance. This trance and light allowed me to travel in an instant throughout my body, mind, and soul, to a higher level of understanding. (No I was not on LSD, or any kind of drugs.)
Within this light and mist a hand appeared. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I went out to touch it. I felt like St. Thomas trying to touch Christ’s wounds. Realizing now, Christ—to insure Thomas of his identification, said to him: “Do you not believe it is me (something on that order).”
To jump ahead of the story, when I came out of this experience, I felt like I was almost returning to my body. I had experienced a freedom that seemed no one hand entirely new existed; on the other, I almost questioned reality, but whom really can, I mean, someone can tell me all day long this didn’t happen, but it did. So it didn’t matter what anyone said, but my mother believed me.
Let me go on, a white light, mist began to pour simultaneously engulfing my entire body. Like a canopy enveloping me. It filled the whole room with a light only heaven could provide I believe. If hell had it, God help us all. The profound inner awakening I was experiencing during this time, resolved one haunting, if not concerning issue I had buried deep within my mind. I knew now, or at least understood now, or at least felt I did, the Biblical inner answer to the statement: there is no crying in heaven.
This was something that had bothered me for a long while, not sure why, it just did. I had looked at that question a number of times before, as I was experiencing over fifty-visions during this period in my life [see the book the: ‘Last Trumpet & The Woodbridge Demon,’ for an update on the visions if you are curious]. I could never come to a comfortable understanding. I guess to me it was always an unanswered statement-question. One of those that could not be answered, so you bury it under a rock and never move the rock in fear it will frustrate you to death. This was a question I believed only God could answer. Thus, he showed me. I’m really doubting Thomas at I suppose (sorry to say).
If this question is simple to the reader of this story, he or she is or was more in the spirit than I was. I made it into a question I suppose, but only for lack of understanding, and understanding clearly, if indeed that makes sense. I think often times, we pretend to understand (an issue, question) in response to not knowing the answer, as a result, being ashamed for not having the answer. A control issue perhaps, we all want to have the answers don’t we. Or we want to tell God: sure I understand, if you say so. But this is not the understanding I was about to get.
The question goes as follows: If I were to die and go to heaven, and my friend was to die and go to hell [and you can surely put, mother, father, grandfather, whomever you like, into the equation, I put friend only because it is easier to except I believe] why would I not be sad, cry a tear. Maybe feel mad or be angry with God, at God. Maybe even hate Him. This was my dilemma.
I once was at an old folks facility (now they call them, Long Term Care Facilities; actually I was to many of them, many times). But this time, I met a woman there who I tried to minister to, not that I am a minister, I am not, but none-the-less, I did try to help her spiritually. She stated to me she’d rather go to hell and be with her father more than going to heaven to be with God; yes indeed, she blew my mind; being without her father was tragic. I couldn’t quite understand that. If I remember right, she couldn’t understand why God would even consider putting him in hell. I didn’t say he went or was in hell, so don’t get me wrong, I just couldn’t assure her he was in Heaven, and that was what she wanted. She had brought the question up to me. And stated:
“I’d be ok with going to heaven, if I was sure my father was there, if not I do not want to proclaim anything. I want to be with him.”
Yes indeed, simple and to the point, she knew what she wanted. She asked for assurances that he would be there, before she would ask God into her life. I couldn’t give them to her. If that was not unconditional love, I’m not sure what is. And in a like manner, if that is not blasphemy I dare say what it might be. But that is a story in itself. There would be no crying, no tears in heaven, I knew this now, as I moved my hand away from the transparent hand I had tried to touch, God‘s Son‘s I believe. The answer to my question was given to me, and it would remain in me after I had returned to the fresh body I had received. My body and mind fully understood, yes, God, not me, moved the rock that I had buried so long ago. I think God knew (in part, I hope so) I was not a complete, doubting Thomas, simply, a poet that needed to experience, feel—in my case, even, trying to touch his hand. God forgive me if I offended You, but I came out the wiser—I think.
[Sacred Light: Breathing in God]
By Dennis L. Siluk
This is a story about an awakening. At the time I experience this happening, I thought it could be what my true calling might be. Also, what my next step in life was going to be. Maybe even a truer purpose for me on Earth.
This profound inner awakening I call the Sacred Light, happened one evening in 1984, in my home city of St. Paul, Minnesota, USA. After taking a bath, and in prayer, a white light began to pour into my whole body simultaneously, like a process of osmosis. I could perceptively feel an ocean of white light, ardent; it engulfs my entire body, like a canopy. I felt somewhat in a trance. This trance and light allowed me to travel in an instant throughout my body, mind, and soul, to a higher level of understanding. (No I was not on LSD, or any kind of drugs.)
Within this light and mist a hand appeared. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. I went out to touch it. I felt like St. Thomas trying to touch Christ’s wounds. Realizing now, Christ—to insure Thomas of his identification, said to him: “Do you not believe it is me (something on that order).”
To jump ahead of the story, when I came out of this experience, I felt like I was almost returning to my body. I had experienced a freedom that seemed no one hand entirely new existed; on the other, I almost questioned reality, but whom really can, I mean, someone can tell me all day long this didn’t happen, but it did. So it didn’t matter what anyone said, but my mother believed me.
Let me go on, a white light, mist began to pour simultaneously engulfing my entire body. Like a canopy enveloping me. It filled the whole room with a light only heaven could provide I believe. If hell had it, God help us all. The profound inner awakening I was experiencing during this time, resolved one haunting, if not concerning issue I had buried deep within my mind. I knew now, or at least understood now, or at least felt I did, the Biblical inner answer to the statement: there is no crying in heaven.
This was something that had bothered me for a long while, not sure why, it just did. I had looked at that question a number of times before, as I was experiencing over fifty-visions during this period in my life [see the book the: ‘Last Trumpet & The Woodbridge Demon,’ for an update on the visions if you are curious]. I could never come to a comfortable understanding. I guess to me it was always an unanswered statement-question. One of those that could not be answered, so you bury it under a rock and never move the rock in fear it will frustrate you to death. This was a question I believed only God could answer. Thus, he showed me. I’m really doubting Thomas at I suppose (sorry to say).
If this question is simple to the reader of this story, he or she is or was more in the spirit than I was. I made it into a question I suppose, but only for lack of understanding, and understanding clearly, if indeed that makes sense. I think often times, we pretend to understand (an issue, question) in response to not knowing the answer, as a result, being ashamed for not having the answer. A control issue perhaps, we all want to have the answers don’t we. Or we want to tell God: sure I understand, if you say so. But this is not the understanding I was about to get.
The question goes as follows: If I were to die and go to heaven, and my friend was to die and go to hell [and you can surely put, mother, father, grandfather, whomever you like, into the equation, I put friend only because it is easier to except I believe] why would I not be sad, cry a tear. Maybe feel mad or be angry with God, at God. Maybe even hate Him. This was my dilemma.
I once was at an old folks facility (now they call them, Long Term Care Facilities; actually I was to many of them, many times). But this time, I met a woman there who I tried to minister to, not that I am a minister, I am not, but none-the-less, I did try to help her spiritually. She stated to me she’d rather go to hell and be with her father more than going to heaven to be with God; yes indeed, she blew my mind; being without her father was tragic. I couldn’t quite understand that. If I remember right, she couldn’t understand why God would even consider putting him in hell. I didn’t say he went or was in hell, so don’t get me wrong, I just couldn’t assure her he was in Heaven, and that was what she wanted. She had brought the question up to me. And stated:
“I’d be ok with going to heaven, if I was sure my father was there, if not I do not want to proclaim anything. I want to be with him.”
Yes indeed, simple and to the point, she knew what she wanted. She asked for assurances that he would be there, before she would ask God into her life. I couldn’t give them to her. If that was not unconditional love, I’m not sure what is. And in a like manner, if that is not blasphemy I dare say what it might be. But that is a story in itself. There would be no crying, no tears in heaven, I knew this now, as I moved my hand away from the transparent hand I had tried to touch, God‘s Son‘s I believe. The answer to my question was given to me, and it would remain in me after I had returned to the fresh body I had received. My body and mind fully understood, yes, God, not me, moved the rock that I had buried so long ago. I think God knew (in part, I hope so) I was not a complete, doubting Thomas, simply, a poet that needed to experience, feel—in my case, even, trying to touch his hand. God forgive me if I offended You, but I came out the wiser—I think.
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 8:04 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home