Heaven Is for Real: A Little Boy's Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back (12 page)

TWENTY-SEVEN SOMEDAY WE'LL SEE

I remember the first time we spoke publicly about Coltons experience. It was during the evening service on January 28, 2007, at Mountain View Wesleyan Church in Colorado Springs. During the morning service, I preached the sermon, a message about Thomas, the disciple who was angry because the other disciples, and even Mary Magdalene, had gotten to see the risen Christ and he hadnt. The story is told in the gospel of John:

Now Thomas (called Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, We have seen the Lord!

But he said to them, Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.

A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, Peace be with you! Then he said to Thomas, Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.

Thomas said to him, My Lord and my God!

Then Jesus told him, Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.1

This story is where we get the familiar term doubting Thomas, someone who refuses to believe something without physical evidence or direct personal experience. In other words, a person without faith.

In my sermon that morning, I talked about my own anger and lack of faith, about the stormy moments I spent in that little room in the hospital, raging against God, and about how God came back to me, through my son, saying, Here I am.

People who attended the service that morning went out and told their friends that a preacher and his wife whose son had been to heaven would be telling more of the story during the evening service. That night, the church was packed. Colton, by now seven years old, sat in the second pew along with his brother and sister while Sonja and I told the story of his experience as well as we could in the space of forty-five minutes. We shared about Pop, and Coltons meeting his unborn sister; then we answered questions for a good forty-five minutes after that.

About a week after we got back to Imperial, I was down in my basement office at home, checking e-mail, when I saw one from the family at whose home Sonja and I and the kids had stayed during our visit to Mountain View Wesleyan. Our hosts had friends who had been at the church the evening of our talk and had heard the descriptions of heaven Colton had shared. Via our hosts, those friends had forwarded us an e-mail about a report CNN had run just two months earlier, in December 2006. The story was about a young Lithuanian-American girl named Akiane Kramarik, who lived in Idaho. Twelve years old at the time of the CNN segment, Akiane (pronounced AH-KEE-AHNA) had begun having visions of heaven at the age of four, the e-mail said. Her descriptions of heaven sounded remarkably like Coltons, and our hosts friends thought wed be interested in the report.

Sitting at the computer, I clicked on the link to the three-minute segment that began with background music, a slow classical piece on cello. A male voice-over said: A self-taught artist who says her inspiration comes from above. Paintings that are spiritual, emotional . . . and created by a twelve-year-old prodigy.2

Prodigy was right. As the cello played, the video showed painting after painting of angelic-looking figures, idyllic landscapes, and a profile view of a man who was clearly meant to be Christ. Then a shot of a young girl filling a canvas with color. But these didnt seem to be paintings by a young girl, or even of an adult learning to paint portraits. This was sophisticated artwork that could hang in any gallery.

Akiane began painting at the age of six, the voice-over said, but at age four she began to describe to her mother her visits to heaven.

Then Akiane spoke for the first time: All the colors were out of this world, she said, describing heaven. There are hundreds of millions of more colors we dont know yet.

The narrator went on to say that Akianes mother was an atheist and that the concept of God was never discussed in their home. The family did not watch television, and Akiane didnt attend any kind of preschool. So as the little girl began to tell her stories of heaven, then depict them first in drawings, then paintings, her mother knew she couldnt have heard these things from another person. Slowly, her mom began to accept that Akianes visions were real and that therefore, God must be real.

I think that God knows where he puts our children, in each family, Mrs. Kramarik said.

I remembered what Jesus told his disciples one day when they were trying to keep some kids from bothering him: Let the little children come to me.3

I made a mental note for future sermons: Akianes story showed that God can reach anyone, anywhere, at any age even a preschool girl in a home where his name had never been spoken.

As I watched a montage of Akianes artwork play across my computer screen, the narrator said, Akiane describes God as vividly as she paints him.

At that point, a close-up portrait of the face of Christ filled the screen. It was the same likeness Id seen before, but this time with Jesus looking directly into the camera, so to speak.

Hes pure, Akiane was saying. Hes very masculine, really strong and big. And his eyes are just beautiful.

Wow. Nearly three years had passed since Coltons surgery, and about two and a half years since he first described Jesus to me that night in the basement. I was struck by the similarities between his and Akianes recollections: all the colors in heaven . . . and especially their descriptions of Jesus eyes.

And his eyes, Colton had said. Oh, Dad, his eyes are so pretty!

What an interesting detail for two four-year-olds to key in on. After the CNN report concluded, I rewound it to that second portrait of Jesus, a startlingly realistic picture that Akiane painted when she was eight. The eyes were indeed strikinga clear, greenish blue under bold, dark brows with half the face in shadow. And I noticed that his hair was shorter than most artists paint it. The beard was also different, fuller somehow, more . . . I dont know . . . casual.

Still, of the literally dozens of portraits of Jesus wed seen since 2003, Colton had still never seen one he thought was right.

Well, I thought, may as well see what he thinks of Akianes attempt.

I got up from the desk and hollered up the stairs for Colton to come down to the basement.

Coming! came the reply.

Colton bounded down the stairs and popped into the office. Yeah, Dad?

Take a look at this, I said, nodding toward the computer monitor. Whats wrong with this one?

He turned to the screen and for a long moment said nothing.

Colton?

But he just stood there, studying. I couldnt read his expression.

Whats wrong with this one, Colton? I said again.

Utter silence.

I nudged him in the arm. Colton?

My seven-year-old turned to look at me and said, Dad, that ones right.

We were pretty sure no painting could ever capture the majesty of the person of the risen Christ. But after three years of examining Jesus pictures, we did know that Akianes rendering was not only a departure from typical paintings of Jesus; it was also the only one that had ever stopped Colton in his tracks. Sonja and I thought it was interesting that when Colton said, This ones right, he hadnt known the portrait, called Prince of Peace: The Resurrection, was painted by another childa child who had also claimed to visit heaven.

Finally getting an idea of what Jesus looks like wasnt the only interesting thing that came out of our visit to Mountain View Wesleyan. It was also the first time we realized how Coltons encounter with his sister in heaven would impact people on earth.

After the service that evening in January 2007, a young mother came up to me, her eyes brimming with tears.

I lost a baby, she said. She was stillborn. Would your son know if my babys in heaven?

The womans voice trembled, and I saw that she was physically shaking. I thought, Oh, Lord, who am I to answer this question?

Colton had said there were many, many children in heaven. But it wasnt like I could go and ask him if hed seen this womans particular child. Still, I didnt want to just leave her hanging in her grief either.

Just then, a little boy of about six or seven came and stood beside the woman, clinging to her skirt. And an answer came to me.

Maam, do you believe God loves me? I said.

She blinked away her tears. Well . . . yes.

Do you believe he loves you as much as he loves me?

Yes. Yes, I do.

Then I nodded at her young son beside her. Do you believe God loves your son here as much as he loves Colton?

She paused to process that question, then answered, Yes, of course.

Well, if you believe God loves you as much as he loves me, and you believe he loves your living son as much as he loves my living son, dont you believe he loves your unborn child as much as he loves mine?

Suddenly, the woman stopped trembling and smiled. I never thought about it that way.

I breathed a prayer of thanks to the Holy Spirit, who had clearly shot down power, giving me an answer for this grieving woman, because I can tell you right now, Im not smart enough to have thought of it myself.

That wouldnt be the last time Coltons story put me or Sonja in the position of trying to answer some monumental questions. But sometimes, people who walked through the experience with us have had some questions answered for themselves.

As I mentioned earlier, before we were released from the hospital in North Platte, nurses kept filing in and out of Coltons room. Before, when nurses visited our room, theyd check Coltons vitals and write stuff on charts. Now they came with no medical business whatsoeverjust stole glances at this little guy who, only two days before, was beyond their medical capabilities but who now was up in his bed, chattering and playing with his new stuffed lion. During that time, one of the nurses pulled me aside. Mr. Burpo, can I speak with you for a moment?

Sure, I said.

Wondering what was up, I followed her into what appeared to be a small break room. She closed the door behind us and turned to face me. Her eyes held a deep sparkle, as though something new had just blossomed inside her.

Mr. Burpo, Ive worked as a nurse here for many years, she said. Im not supposed to tell you this, but we were told not to give your family any encouragement. They didnt think Colton was going to make it. And when they tell us people arent going to make it, they dont.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment; then she plunged on. But seeing your boy the way he is today, this is a miracle. There has to be a God, because this is a miracle.

I thanked her for sharing with me, then said, I want you to know that we believe this was God. Our church got together and prayed for Colton last night, and we believe God answered our prayers.

The nurse looked at the floor for a moment, then back up at me again and smiled. Well, I just wanted to tell you that.

Then she left. I think maybe she didnt want to hear a sermon from a pastor. But the truth was, she didnt need a sermonshed already seen one.

Speaking of Coltons experience in heaven, people have said to us, Your family is so blessed!

In the sense that weve had a glimpse through the veil that separates earth from eternity, theyre right.

But I also think, Blessed? We watched our son almost die.

Its fun to talk about heaven, about the throne of God and Jesus and Pop and the daughter we thought we had lost but will meet again someday. But its not fun to talk about how we got there. Recalling those terrifying days when we watched Colton cling to life still brings tears for Sonja and me. To this day, the miraculous story of his visit to heaven and the story of almost losing our son are one and the same event to us.

When I was a kid, I always wondered why the cross, Jesus crucifixion, was such a big deal. If God the Father knew he was going to raise his Son from the dead, how was that a sacrifice? But now I understand why God doesnt view Easter as just the endgame, just the empty tomb. I understand completely. I wouldve done anything, anything, to stop Coltons suffering, including trading places with him.

The Scripture says that as Jesus gave up his spirit, as he sagged there, lifeless on that Roman cross, God the Father turned his back. I am convinced that he did that because if he had kept on watching, he couldnt have gone through with it.

Sometimes people ask, Why Colton? Why do you think this happened to your family? Ive had to say on more than one occasion, Hey, were just ordinary people from a one-horse town in Nebraska. The best we can do is tell you what happened to us, and hope that you find it encouraging, like the nurse in North Platte who maybe needed to see a miracle to believe there is Someone greater than ourselves. Or the woman at Mountain View Wesleyan who needed a glimmer of hope to help her cope with her grief. Or Sonja, who needed salve on her own maternal wounds. Or like my mother, Kay, who after twenty-eight years of wondering, finally knows she will one day meet her father again.

When you look at the book of Revelation and other biblical teachings about heaven, its kind of fragmented. As a pastor, Ive always been very conscious about what I share about heaven from the pulpit, and I still am. I teach what I find in Scripture.

Because I had a lot of questions that I didnt have answers for, I didnt spend much time thinking about heaven on a personal level. But I do now. Sonja and I both do, and weve heard from a lot of people that Coltons story has them thinking more about heaven too. We still dont have all the answersnot even close. But now we have a picture in our minds, a picture we can look at and say, Wow.

I love the way my mom sums it up: Ever since this happened, she told me, I think more about what it might really be like in heaven. I accepted the idea of heaven before, but now I visualize it. Before, Id heard, but now I know that someday Im going to see.

EPILOGUE

Just over seven years have passed since an ordinary family trip turned into a heavenly trip that changed all our lives. People have often asked us why we waited so long to tell Coltons story. Well, there are a couple of reasons. First, though its been seven years since the hospital ordeal, our emergency dash from Greeley to the doctor in Imperial turned out to be only the beginning of the story. As youve read in these pages, we received the details of Coltons extraordinary journey in bits and pieces over a period of months and years. So though its been some time since his brush with death, the rest of the story took a while to unfold.

Then, when we began to share with others what had happened, many people told us, You should write a book! to which Sonja and I responded, Us? Write a book? Yeah, right.