SpiritualReality

Heaven, Hell, Revelation, Theology, Salvation

The Heavens Opened (by Anna Rountree)

A Short Sample of
The Heavens Opened
by Anna Rountree
(click here for The Priestly Bride) [German]
Please purchase this book at Amazon.com.

(MP3 Sample Reading)

The Attack

The sound was ancient and terrifying.
Startled, I spun around to see a colossal battering ram relentlessly moving under its own power across a desert basin. Its wooden wheels were at least sixty stories high, and they groaned and yawned under the extreme weight they bore. Blasphemies were carved into its black battering arm, the end of which was the iron head of a goat.
Although it moved slowly, people on the desert floor seemed helpless to avoid its path; they were crushed as it rolled over them. Screams filled the desert valley and ricocheted off distant rock formations, filling the desert basin with terror.
Slowly the battering ram topped a sandy hill and began to pick up speed going down the other side. Breathless from shock, I clawed with my hands and dug with my feet into the deep sand of the hill in order to reach the top and watch its path.
It picked up tremendous speed as it plunged down side of the hill into a deep valley. In its path at the bottom of the hill was a walled city. Both city and wall were the color of the sand and seemed to be half sunk into it, almost reclaimed by the sand from which they had come. In faded Lettering on the side of the wall, I could read: THE CHURCH.


The battering ram was massive, and the adobe wall of the city did not look strong. With brutal impact, the goat’s head smashed into the wall and continued through it. It plowed through houses and buildings, losing little of its speed. When it broke through the wall on the opposite side of the city, it slowed to a stop, settling into the sand.
A strange silence fell.
Occasional screams broke this silence. They came from those who had been mutilated or from those who recognized that a loved one had been killed. But stranger than the silence was the fact that few sought to escape across the rubble of the wall—few.
Then slowly, all by itself, the battering ram began to start up the hill again, moving in my direction. The goat’s head on the end of the ram was laughing, exhilarated, as if drunk with blood.
I thought it might see me, so I left the top of the hill and began to run in the opposite direction. As I ran, I frantically scanned the desert basin for a hiding place. I could hear the huge wheels laboring as they carried the battering ram toward the top of the hill again.
Suddenly an angel began to fly beside me. “Where can I hide from the battering ram?” I shouted as I ran.
“The battering ram rolls relentlessly over all the earth now. Up high,” the angel said, “up higher than it can see is the only safe place. Let me show you.”

The Escape

WITH A WAVE of the angel’s hand, a stairway appeared, touching the earth and reaching beyond my view into heaven. I moved to the base of the stairs and looked up. I was still heaving from running.
The angel flew beside the stairs, higher than its base on earth, and waved me upward: “Come on!” the angel shouted. “The ram is coming, and we don’t want him to see this stairway. Come on!”
There were no hand rails on the narrow stairs. The stairs were clear like glass, which can be slippery. I could hear the battering ram rolling; although I was still panting, I began to run up the stairs.
“Faster!” the angel called.
I kept my eyes on the stairs. In his hands the angel had a scarlet cord fastened to the stairs at the bottom. I could hear the battering ram getting closer, but the angel pulled the cord and brought up the first section of the stairway, like attic stairs that can be lowered and raised.
“Hurry!” the angel urged.
I continued to run up the steps, breathless. The angel pulled the thin rope, and another section of the stairs rose.
“Keep climbing,” the angel said, although now his tone of voice was less urgent.
With a mighty effort, I completed the stairs and turned to make sure I had indeed escaped. The battering ram was directly below, rolling beneath us as the third section of the stairs was pulled up.
“You were safe after climbing the second set of stairs; but to be really safe, you needed to pass the third,” he said.
As the battering ram rolled past, I tried to catch my breath and settle myself. Only then did I look around.
“Where am I?” I asked.

Paradise

“PARADISE,” THE ANGEL smiled, as he tied the cord holding the
stairs to a docking post. A sign above the post read STAIR PORT.
I looked out over the most beautiful park I had ever seen.
There were gentle rolling hills, beds of subtly colored flowers, and grass as uniform and green as the rolled lawns of English manor houses. A walking path crossed this part of the park. There were also quiet pools, a stream, and luxuriant trees that on earth would have provided shade, but there was no shade or any shadows here. A soft light emanated from everything growing.
Beautiful, I thought.
“Yes, isn’t it,” the angel answered.
I did not seem surprised that he read my thoughts. I turned to look at him; only then did his appearance register with me. He looked to be six feet two or six feet three inches in height and in his mid-thirties, if I were gauging by human years. He had brown curly hair and wore a brown, transparent, full-length robe. Underneath the thin brown robe, I could see that he had on blue-and-white-striped work overalls, the sort one might obtain in the store of a farming community. The thought struck me that the brown over-robe was so thin that it was probably cool to wear when working.
A coil of rope crossed his shoulder and chest, circled in a wide loop near his waist, and returned across his back to the shoulder again. He wore a white belt, from which hung a white tool pouch. This pouch looked a little like the hand tool belt worn by telephone repairers. He was unlacing a pair of silver-tipped, brown, high-topped work boots as he spoke to me.
“No shoes up here,” he smiled. “This is holy ground.” I looked down at my own feet and saw that they, too, were bare.
He stood up, putting the boots under his arm. “You’re safe
here,” the angel continued, “All of that is down below.”
“What was that?” I asked.
“The great enemy of our Lord and of His church.” “But it was destroying the church,” I exclaimed.

The Two Churches

“SOME OF IT may be destroyed-that which calls itself the
church,” he continued. “It has a sign saying it is the church, and many live behind that sign. But the church-the real church-escaped; the real church is alive and can run faster than any battering ram can roll. It’s clumsy, really; but if you are dead stones, if you are not alive, then of course it is more than any man-made structure can resist. However, the real, living church of Jesus Christ can hide in caves, float on the water, or climb into Paradise. A member of the real church will know where the hidden stairs are located. That person can call for help, and we will let down the stairs so that he can escape. The real church is more agile than the battering ram. Living stones have feet.”
Then, like someone who had just remembered his manners, he said, “Would you like some refreshments? It would help you.”
“All right,” I said, trying to get my bearings.
A tray of fruit floated to US. “Here you are,” the angel said, gesturing toward the tray, “a choice.”
I reached to make a selection of fruit. Some varieties I had seen on earth, and some I had not. All were without blemish. We both made selections and began to eat.
“You need to get acquainted with the locations of the hidden stairs,” he continued.
“Is there a map?” I asked.
“No,” the angel laughed. “The map is in the Spirit. By following His leading, He directs you to the hidden stairs.”
I glanced toward the stair port. “These stairs look like glass,”
I said.
“Light,” the angel replied. “Nice, aren’t they?” “Do people ever fall off these stairs?”
“Not if they keep their eyes on Jesus,” he chuckled, “but I wouldn’t advise looking over the side. You might get wobbly doing that.”
“This is good fruit,” I exclaimed.
“Yup, everything’s good up here,” the angel said, mimicking a cowhand.
I laughed, bemused. He was not anything like my idea of an angel. “What is your name?” I asked him.

The Angel Azar

“AZAR,” THE ANGEL said, “I’m the one who answers when you call for help.”
“Is there only one of you?” I asked.
“You mean for the whole earth? Oh no, I couldn’t take care of the whole earth. We’re assigned to a small number to whose call we will respond, more or less according to lifestyle. Sometimes a stunt person will need one of us all by him or herself, but usually we can handle five. The boss chooses who they will be.”
“The boss?” I said.
“Well, our immediate boss, not the Lord; no, I mean the angel in charge of helps. While you are living on earth, I’m the one who will answer your call for help. So don’t take up mountain climbing,” he laughed.
He amazed me.
“Had enough fruit?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” I said. The tray of fruit disappeared.

The Suggestion

“Now,” THE ANGEL continued, “you can return the way you came. The present danger is past, but I would suggest that you take the path to the throne room. You must be here for a reason, but that knowledge has not been given to me. Your Father can tell you why you have come.”
“My Father?” I said, glancing out into the park, lost in reflection. It seemed inconceivable, not only that I was in Paradise, but also that I could go to see my heavenly Father as a child might go to see an earthly one.
“Certainly,” he said, reading my thoughts. “Just take the path.”
“Does this path lead to the throne room?”
“All paths here lead to God. They are not like the paths on earth.”
I looked toward the path as if it were a distant horizon too far away to reach.
“Go on,” he laughed. “Go see your Daddy. I’ll be here when
it’s time for you to return.”
I turned to search his face.
“Don’t you want to know why you’re here?” he asked. “Yes,” I laughingly exclaimed.
He threw up his hands and shrugged, as if to say, “Well?” “Thank you,” I said earnestly.
He smiled at me and spoke quietly, “The Creator of the universe desires your company. Don’t keep Him waiting.”
I smiled and showed him that I was stepping onto the path. He called after me, “I’ll be here when it’s time to return.”
I waved to him, acknowledging that I had heard. Then, somewhat breathlessly, I set my face toward the throne room.

Sandcastles

MUCH TO MY amazement, the path on which I had begun to walk seemed to be in motion, like a conveyor belt or a moving sidewalk. I looked down at my bare feet standing on its smooth, advancing surface.
It was then that I noticed another pair of feet beside mine. I was not traveling alone. I looked up into the face of a large angel.
“Hello,” he said formally.
“Hello,” I answered. He was about seven feet tall, with blond hair that seemed to have lights in it. Perhaps the light was within him and shone out through his head and then his hair. I could not tell. His face was grave with the demeanor of authority.
He wore a long white robe and had large, strong, white wings.
“Who are you?” I continued.

Angel of Promises

“I AM A messenger,” the angel replied.
I could feel power emanating from him. “What kind of messages do you deliver?” I asked.
“Promises,” he said. “I help to bring God’s faithful promises to mankind.”
“That’s a big job,” I quipped. (I was hoping he’d become less formal.)
“Very,” he nodded stiffly.
He didn’t. So, I thought, perhaps all angels are not alike.
This spirit is very serious, like an ambassador. Suddenly I remembered that he knew what I was thinking. “Have you been delivering promises on earth?” I asked aloud.
“Yes,” he said, pausing to weigh his words, “yours.” “Mine!” I exclaimed.
“Yours,” he reiterated. “When you came into the kingdom, the Lord told you that you would see into heaven, did He not?”
“Yes,” I answered vaguely, looking out over the passing landscape. I was searching my memory. “That was years ago.”

The Promise

WHEN I CAME to the Lord twenty years before, it was a time of miracles. At that time He spoke to me several promises that related to my life on earth. Although I did not keep these pledges in the forefront of my thoughts, I realized that He was fulfilling most of them daily. But this one promise, this amazing promise, had not been fulfilled. At first I looked and longed for its fulfillment; after a time, however, immediate demands crowded out anticipation until truly I had forgotten. “Nothing happened,” I continued, “and … ” My voice trailed off. I started to say that I had forgotten.
“However, God has not forgotten,” he said, “and the fullness of time has come.”
I hardly heard him for I was trying to piece together the past with this present.
“Being ignorant of God’s ways does not negate their functioning,” he said. “Of course, great unbelief does hinder.” “But what does it mean?” I asked, searching his face.
“I do not have the authority to tell you. Ask your Father.
The Revealer of Mysteries will reveal this mystery to you.”
I was lost in the wonder of it, so he continued, “Our God is faithful and true, and He loves you.”
It seems that at times of great impact or distress, one can think of the most unusual things. Suddenly I wanted to know his name. “What is your name?” I asked.
“Seek for me in Scripture. Your Father wishes you to grow in confirmation from the written Word of all that you see and hear. Seek for my name,” he said, and then he was gone.

The Tour

BEFORE I COULD adjust to his sudden disappearance, I heard the distinct sound of a voice projected through a megaphone, as on a bus tour: “Pleasant hills, soft turf, cool streams … ”
I turned to see a winged angel deftly weaving in and out of people farther ahead of me on the moving path, sort of like a ticket collector on a merry-go-round. He too had on a white robe, but on his head was a blue hat on which was embroidered TOUR GUIDE. Around his waist was a silver belt from which hung a silver coin exchanger. However, I never saw him ask anyone for the price of the tour. His voice was high and as loud as a barker at a fair; he was pointing out areas of interest in Paradise. “All streams flow from beneath the throne. All proceed from the same source,” he said, weaving through a group of people. “We’ll stop here so that you can enjoy this site.”
The moving path stopped, and people farther up the line got off to look at the view. The tour guide turned to answer someone’s question, so I too got off, walked over to a stream, and sat beside it. It was the first time I had been able to look more closely at the flora of Paradise.
The grass looked like grass, but its properties were undeniably different. You could walk on it, and it would return to its former position once the pressure had been removed from it. There were several, formal plantings of flower beds near the stream, but again, these were not flowers as we know them on earth. They were perfect.
I stretched out my whole body at the water’s edge and put my hand into the stream. Cool. But, is it water? I asked myself. No, I thought, I believe it’s light. A group of angels passed overhead. They were flying in a wedge formation like a flock of geese. When I returned to look at the water, another face was looking into the stream with me.

The Sand Pile

“HELLO,” A CHILD’S voice said.
I turned and sat up to face her. “Are you on tour?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered, staring at her. She appeared to be a child of about five or six years old, but she was shining. She had no wings, and her eyes looked old beyond the years displayed in her small stature. She wore a pale calico pinafore over a faintly colored, short shift. Her hair was curly and tousled as if from play. She looked like a little girl, but every so often I could see through her arm or leg and knew her to be a spirit. She was intriguing.
“Have you just begun the tour?” she questioned. “Yes, I think so. Why?” I asked.
“I wanted you to come play with me,” she said. “Play with you?” I said incredulously.
“In my sand pile,” she said. “Can you come?”
Just then the tour guide walked over to us, and I stood. I was torn between getting to know this small spirit and continuing my tour.
“May I go with … what is your name?” I asked her, bending
over to question her as one might question a child.
“Crystal Clear.”!!
“May I go with Crystal Clear for a few minutes?” I asked the tour guide.
“Oh, all right,” he said. “Meet us at the almond grove when
you finish.”
“How will I find it?” I asked.
“Crystal Clear will show you the way.”
“Yes, I will,” she said excitedly. “Come along with me.”

The Lesson

SUDDENLY WE WERE on a vast shore line, but there was no sea. It looked as though the beach was still there, but no ocean. In the sand were all manner of red and blue children’s buckets and shovels.
“Haven’t you always wanted to build a sand castle?” she asked.
I chuckled, “Well, not really, Crystal Clear.”
“Yes, you have,” she continued. “Think about it. You’ve wanted to build on earth, and all of that is sand. When the tide comes in, it goes away. Even the tools for building remain longer than a sandcastle, for the tools are from God. But if you use them to build on sand instead of in eternity, what do you have? A waste of time,” she shrugged. “You have wanted a sandcastle. It’s silly really, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” I said quietly. I did not want to admit it, but she was right. I had wanted a home and financial security and to accomplish something-for God, of course-but I had tunnel vision for the life on earth. I had Christianized the gospel of the world and bought into my own packaging. It was a bitter thing to hear that the focus of my life had been fleshly and worthless to God, and that I had not gotten away with it.
“Do you want to play?” she continued cheerily.
I felt a little sick. I thought I would change the subject.
“Why such a large sand area?” I asked.
“Many want to build on sand, so we let them. It gets it out
of their systems, you know. Maybe if you build on the sand right now, you would feel, ‘I’ve done that.'”
“It seems a silly thing to do,” I said stonily.
“Well, yes, it does. However, building on the earth is really the same: silly toys that are long forgotten here, toys that do not even gather dust in the attic but disintegrate and are totally forgotten here—a waste of God’s precious time,” she said much too breezily.
I had the taste of a copper penny in my mouth. “Is it all right if we do not play today?” I asked.
“Oh, all right,” she said. “Do you want to join the tour?”
“I don’t know,” I said dazed. I felt as though I had been hit by a truck. “I like your name, Crystal Clear,” I said acidly. “It’s apt.”
“Maybe a little rest,” she said, as if she had not heard my remark. “Now, remember to come back to see us. We love you here; do keep in touch.” She held up her tiny hands, and I held up mine to reciprocate. Light came from hers into mine and knocked me softly backwards.
I lay on the air, as someone might lie on a gurney while being wheeled through hospital halls. My arms were across my chest, and I floated down the path like a patient returning from surgery.

Angels in Training

AN ANGEL BEGAN walking beside me as I floated down the path.
“Whom do you seek?” the angel asked.
“I thought I was going to see my Father in the throne room,” I answered.
“He is everywhere, but this is not the throne room.”

The Terraced Waterfall

I HAD FLOATED to the edge of a pool; I began descending to rest on the grass. The pool was at the base of a high, terraced waterfall. Lavender flowers and hanging greenery grew on the ledges of the fall. A fine mist hung over the pool, caused by the impact of the falling water.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“One of the gardens,” the angel said. “It’s peaceful here. Why don’t you rest,” he suggested, and then he was gone.
There was something soothing in the sound of the waterfall, something restful, but there was also someone humming a lovely melody. The sound vibrated through me, touching every part of my body. Then a high voice began to sing:

There is a place where travelers rest, And lay their heads in peace. Returning to the Eagle’s nest,
All war within will cease.
o Lamb of God,
Our heart’s desire,
o Truth in Word,
Eternal Fire,
o Lamb of God, God’s chosen Son,
Receive them when Their race is run.

At the song’s end, slowly a figure formed from the mist of the waterfall. I sat up to watch this unusual sight.

Heather of the Mist

“WHO ARE you?” I asked.
“I am Heather,” the figure said. “I tend this part of the garden.
Sometimes the path leads beside still waters or into perfumed gardens,” she smiled.
I lay back on the grass, for I was weary and still recovering from my experience at the sand pile.
She continued after a pause, “Do you wish to grow in spirit or in the natural?”
“In spirit, most of all,” I said.
“Then cultivate obedience,” she said. “Your Father loves you.
I know that, or you would not be here. You would not have access to Him nor be able to enter these perfumed gardens.”
“Tell me of these gardens,” I said.
“There are many, each filled with untold delights. I suppose, being on the path, you always expect to arrive in the throne room?” she asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“But your Father wants you to see more of His beautiful land.”

The Question

SUDDENLY I SAT up, looking at her intently. “Heather, what do you do here?”
“We grow in God. Also, I tend this small part of the garden.
But we do not toil here. We live for what you would call spiritual growth.” Then returning to the subject she was addressing before my question, she swept her hand in a wide semicircle. “The areas to visit are without end and beyond compare.”
“I seem to be alone here,” I said, “but I know there are others.”
“Yes, but your Father is answering your prayers to grow and learn. He decides how each child should be taught,” she smiled. “For you there is private tutoring here. One on one. Ask what you will.”
“I’m so at peace in this place,” I shrugged. “I find it difficult to think of things to ask.”
“I’ve heard that,” she mused.
I could think of one question only, for which I felt I already knew the answer, but I asked: “Do you have fellowship here?”
“Yes, we are happy. Actually, there are many of us around, but I alone am sent to you, so you see only me.”
“Why are you called Heather?” I asked.
“For the flowers that grow in the midst of the falls,” she smiled, looking up at the high, terraced garden.

The Angel Clara

“HELLO, ANN,” A woman’s voice spoke from behind us. “Heather,” the voice continued, as we turned our faces toward her.
“Clara,” Heather responded; she quickly rose to face her. Heather turned to me. ‘This is Clara, who is very beloved us here.”
I rose to my feet also. “Hello, Clara,” I said. She was absolutely the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. This angel looked very womanly and had a soft light coming from her head area. The light seemed to gather into streaks of light as it radiated outward from that glow. She parted her botticellian, golden-red hair in the center and caught it in a multiple bun arrangement at the nape of her neck. She wore a white, draped garment similar to the designs adopted by Roman worn before the time of Christ. The garment was gathered and belt beneath what would be the bust area in a human. Her eyes were an intense blue.

Clara’s Invitation

“I’VE COME TO take Ann to a training session,” Clara continued. “What kind of training?” I asked.
“Of the healing angels,” she smiled.
“Oh,” I said softly, for she amazed me by speaking of area that was of great interest to me. “I would like that but … ,” I grappled for the words as well as for direction, “I’m on my way to the throne room.”
“This is on your way,” she smiled. “Your heavenly Father is
offering you this opportunity.”
I looked to Heather for guidance.
“I would go if I were you,” she affirmed. “Would you like to drop by?” Clara asked. “Yes,” I said enthusiastically.
Clara laughed. “Thank you, Heather. She seems wonderfully refreshed.”
“Yes, thank you, Heather,” I added, turning to her, but
already she was fading into the mist of the waterfall, smiling and holding up her hand to acknowledge our departure as she disappeared.
We too left suddenly.

The Annex

IMMEDIATELY WE WERE outside of a very large building that had a small sign over its double doors: THE ANNEX. It was a short distance from an equally large building that had a sign written in a language that I could not read.
I thought to myself, I wonder if travel is at the speed of thought here?
We entered the building.
It was a huge auditorium much the same as the municipal auditoriums in major cities. There were a number of tiers, as well as the main floor. Angels filled the building. They all wore white armbands with a large red cross on each band. They seemed to be attending a lecture.
Their instructor was on an elevated platform before a gigantic, clear board that looked similar to lucid plastic. He held a long pointer with which he would add colored-light illustrations to the board by touching it. He did not draw or write, but pointed only; they appeared on the board complete in their design.
Clara began to make her way to the front of the auditorium.
The angels remained attentive, but they moved aside so that we could pass down the aisle. We stood near the raised platform, and I could see the instructor more clearly.
He had a crew cut and wore white armbands with a red cross on each band. He also had stripes on his sleeves.

Angels of Healing

I TURNED TO look at the faces of the angels. They looked like the United Nations of angelhood, representing many nationalities. I supposed that the Lord would send them on assignments all over the world. They were very intent upon the lecture.
The instructor continued, “You realize that you play an important role in verifying our Lord’s victory in the area of health. The enemy will use any wile to attempt to bring into a place of unbelief those to whom our God assigns you. He is a master of unbelief. He has succeeded mightily with humankind in general and with the elect specifically. It is often easier for the redeemed to believe our Lord will provide for financially than to believe He wants His people well. healing revival is about to begin. Instead of one, we will be assigning two of you to each person slated for the gift of healing.
“We want you to learn to work together now. We have some badges for you to fasten to those receiving this gift.”
He held up a badge. It was green with red letters: ONLY BELIEVE.
“We have a large number of the redeemed who will be here later, who will act like believers on earth. Don’t be discouraged by what they say to you. They are here to show you exactly what you might be facing with your charges. Some of the replies they will give you will seem fantastic, but they are usual. You will be able to see how effectively the enemy eroded belief in the Lord’s gracious provision of health. Work through this dismay now. We’ve given you a ‘buddy system’ for this revival. There are to be many, many with the gift of healing this time around. Any questions?”
“When will this be?” an angel shouted from far back in the “The Lord God, the Almighty, knows this. You just get ready!” he called to the angel asking the question. “He did say, ‘Soon’: can tell you that much. That is the reason for this mobilization and intensification of training. Any other questions?”
There was general silence.
“All right, I want you to rally back here after your work with the redeemed. Do not, and let me repeat this, do not individually question the redeemed so that you ‘bone up’ before this workout. We want the full impact of their answers to hit
you together. If there are no other questions, you are dismissed.”
There was a great deal of movement as the angels rose and began talking to one another while leaving. Clara and I started up some stairs toward the top of the platform. The instructor was clearing the transparent board as we reached the top.

The Angelic Instructor

“HELLO, CLARA. WHO is this with you?” he teased, as an adult might tease about a child whom he knows well.
“I believe you know Ann,” Clara said, playing along.
His eyes twinkled. “Yes, I do know her. If I hadn’t told the trainees to refrain from cramming for this exam, I could have had Ann give them some of the answers they will hear on earth.”
“Now, Chabburah,” Clara smiled, shaking her head as one might when indulging an inveterate jokester. I knew what he meant, however, so I changed the subject.
“What are the stripes on your sleeve?” I asked.
“By His stripes we are healed,” he smiled tenderly, looking at the stripes.
Clara continued: “We’re taking a tour. Do you have any suggestions?”
“The hanging gardens … ” he began.
“No,” she laughed, “concerning the healing angels and the revival that is coming in the area of healing.”
He looked at a slate in his hand with mock seriousness. “Well, I see here that Ann is slated for a couple of my finest angels.”
“Me?” I questioned. “Is it possible?” I knew that God gave this giftedness to some of His children. In fact, I had stepped into a stream of such a gift at one time. It was as though God healed everyone for whom I prayed. This amazing and utterly supernatural anointing lasted for several months, and then it was gone. Why He gave it and why the anointing lifted, I never understood. Since that time, there were more questions than answers in my mind.

Classes

THE INSTRUCTOR DID not respond to my inner dialog continued, “Clara, I would suggest that she begin classes soon. She’s almost a classic example of ‘gelatin belief’ touch it and it shakes.’ I’m going to teach these classes myself,” he continued. “She can study this series at home as a correspondence course, but since she’s here right now, she could the tour the warehouse.”
Clara turned to me. “Would you like that?”
“Yes,” I said. “If the Lord is going to use me to pray for healing in others, I … well, I need to learn all that I can.”
“All right,” he said. “You can get a head start by touring next door; we’ll page you when you’re to begin your course at home. How’s that?”
“That sounds good to us,” Clara said, “We’ll begin away. Thank you.” She began moving us toward the stairs of the platform.
“Yes, thank you,” I said.

The Request

HE CALLED AFTER us, “Now don’t talk to any of the students on your way out. You might tempt one of them to stumble and ask you questions,” he chuckled. Suddenly, as if struck by a thought, he called to us.
“Wait a minute. This is really an excellent opportunity. You’re here, and … ” I could not understand what he was saying. “Would you be willing for the students to question you in order that they might hear your reasoning?” he asked. “Sometimes it’s difficult for the redeemed believers up here to remember why they thought as they thought while on earth. Would you be willing?”
“Mercy,” I laughed lightly. “Am I so tough?’
“No, no, no,” he said, putting down his slate and crossing to place his hands on my shoulders. “You’re just. .. typical of the reasoning given on earth.”
“If it would be helpful to you and the others … ” I said.
“It would,” he replied. “Good! You and Clara tour next door. We’ll page you there,” he said, going back to the large board. But almost immediately he whipped around again to look at us. “Now, don’t ask Clara about healing,” he smiled. “We want a raw example for them.”
“Okay,” I laughed.
He went back to his board, and we started down the stairs.
Immediately we were at the back of the large auditorium and exiting the double doors.
As we stepped from the building, we could see thousands of angel trainees sitting on the lawn in twos with one or two of the redeemed. They were in deep discussions.

A Short Sample of
The Heavens Opened
by Anna Rountree
Please purchase this book at Amazon.com.

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July 24, 2008 - Posted by | About Heaven, Revelation |

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