52stories

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I started up the first set of steps, the children behind me still chanting words of encouragement. At the first landing, I was met by a small man, cloaked in robes of deep purple. His face was nearly hidden, and he didn’t look up as he asked, “Up or down?”

I thought for a minute. Of course I was trying to go up. Why would he ask?
“What are my options?”
“Up or down.”
I looked back at the kids, who were all pointing to the top of the steps, gesturing wildly for me to answet correctly.
“Up, I guess.”
“That is correct. Proceed, Mark.”
“How do you know my name?”
“You are expected. Please proceed, and stay on the steps.”
He sat down in the corner of the landing and folded his arms. His head dropped and his breathing slowed.
With no other choices obvious, and with his adminition to continue, I went up the next flights of steps. At the next landing, there was another man. This one was standing tall, dressed in robes of bright orange.
“Hello, Mark. I’m glad you’re here. I am going to answer some of your questions.”
Good, I thought. Now we’re getting somewhere..
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“You died in the bus accident, Mark. I’m sure you knew that already. But these steps are the qualifications you need to enter the eternities. You will be asked questions about your life and feelings at each landing, and your answers, and any discussions, will be used to determine your worthiness to continue.”
“What question are you going to ask?”
“I have two questions. You may not pass if you give the incorrect answers, and I already know the truth, so please answer honestly.”
This was scaring me. I was getting tested, and I never had a chance to get ready. I suppose there isn’t a cram test for getting into heaven. Well, maybe the death bed confessions. But I never had a death bed.
“Okay. I’ll do my best.”
“I’m sure you will. My first question is, have you killed anyone?”
“No, of course not.”
“Very good. My next question is, have you ever denied that there is a God?”
I didn’t think I’d ever done that. My mom and dad always taught me about God, and I went to church with them until I left home. Since then, while I wasn’t much of a church goer, I know I always believed in God, and visited a lot of churches with various girl friends.
“No, I know there is a God.”
“Wonderful. You may continue upwards.”
‘Thanks.”
“That wasn’t too hard, was it?”
“I guess it makes me think, and to be honest, I never thought too deeply about what I’d need in order to qualify for heaven. If this is the kind of questions I need to answer, I should be okay.”
“Just remember to answer honestly. We know the answers. If you are ready, and have no more questions, you can continue.”
He held out his hand, and I took it in a handshake. He hand was warm, and his face smiled so gently, I knew it was full of caring.
“Thanks, ” I said.
He released my hand, and pointed up the steps to the next landing.
This was going well. But I was worried about the questions that would follow. The first landing was easy, and the second not much worse. What would they ask as I got closer to the top?
At the next landing, there were two ladies, in yellow robes, seated behind a desk. On the desk were several notebooks, filled with papers. I could see lots of hand-written notes, and many of the pages had been dog-eared.
“Hello Mark,” said the lady on the left. “My name is Mary, and this is Elizabeth. We have your life books here, and would like to ask a few questions about choices you made in your life.”
I felt sick. This was it. I knew I hadn’t been nearly perfect. I think I tried hard, but how much was good enough?
Elizabeth continued, “In these books are all the things you’ve done in your life, the actions and thoughts, the intentions. We do our assessment on a point scale, where good things and bad things each receive a certain number of points. If you’ve done well, we let you continue.”
“Ouch,” I blurted.
“Don’t worry,” said Mary. “You’re score is actually quite good. Not great, mind you, but very good.”
“You see, we look at intentions and thoughts a lot. And while you’ve done a few things we would prefer you hadn’t, there are many more times where you’ve followed the right path,” explained Elizabeth.
“So, what questions do you have?”
They went through the books for a few minutes, asking me about cetain actions, asking why for some of them, how I had come to the decisions, what promptings i had received. In the end, they seemed pleased with the answers.
“Mark, we have a good feeling about you. But we cannot make a final judgement. That will happen later in this climb.”
“So I can go on?”
“Yes,” said Mary. “You have done well here. We are pleased to send you further up the steps. Good luck.”
They started to close the books, and gather all the loose pages. I stepped around the table, and started up the next set of steps.
The next few landings were very similar. Copies of my life story, or life book I guess they called it, were available on each landing, and the people in each place asked questions about various parts of my life. One landing was all about how I took care of my body, which they called my temple. Another landing revolved around how I treated my family. The next set of questions talked about my dealings with friends, girl friends especially. That one scared me the most, but I guess I had treated them well enough.
Finally I got to the last landing before the top. A man in teal robes met me with his hands outstretched. I entered the circle of his arms, and he hugged me as if I was the prodigal son returned.
“Mark, I have one more questions before you rise to the top.”
“Okay. I think I’m ready.”
“I’m sure you are. My question is this. Do you feel worthy to enter into Heaven?”
There it was. The question I didn’t have an answer for. He must have seen my thoughts in my face, because he quickly reached into his pocket and handed me some headphones.
“What are these for?”
“Mark, put them on. I want you to listen, and say aloud the last words you hear.”
I put on the headphones. I could hear the sounds of the bus, the children laughing and playing. Then, screaching tires, a few screams from the back. I could feel the bus in my bones, feel the last turns I was making as I tried to avoid the drunk driver. And then, quietly, I heard the words he wanted me to repeat.
“Oh, God, please don’t let these kids get hurt.”
Tears streamed from my eyes unbidden. I took off the headphone, unable to listen to more. I handed them back, and told him what words I had heard.
“Mark, your last thoughts were about those children, not about yourself. Did you know that the direction you aimed the bus would mean certain death for you?”
“I didn’t have time to think about it.”
“That is the point. You only thought about those children, the little children of Father who were in your care. You, Mark, are here because you deserve it.”
“Then,” I asked tentatively, “my answer is yes?”
He came back and hugged me again.
“Yes, yes, yes. You are a worthy son, and we welcome you back.”
“Are you Saint Peter, then?”
“No, I am know as Jesus.”
“But I thought Peter let people into heaven.”
“He does. He was the man on the first platform.”
“That was Peter?”
“Yes. He hasn’t been feeling well. Usually, he is much more demonstrative.”
“Wow. So now what?”
“Now, you may enter the gates of Heaven, right up here at the top of the steps.”
“Thank you,” I said. I let go, and started up the final steps. At the top, I could see the children, laughing and jumping, happy to see me coming up to meet them. Behind me, the man in white robes telled, “Take the Chevy.”
I ran into the childrens’ arms, and cried as I felt the love they shared with me,.
“Where do we go now?”
“Over here,” said Jesse. They led me to a row of cars, of all things, a couple dozen feet from the top of the steps. The first one was the Chevy. It was a beauty, a white behemoth like my dad had when I was young. Much cleaner, and no dents or dings.
I opened the door, and saw a note and map on the front seat.
“Please take the children with you, and follow the route on the map. There you will find the place where you’ll all stay.”
“Come on kids,” I yelled. “Get in. We’re going home.”