Today I attended the funeral of Robert Weaver. He was in the news, the man who was killed in an attack from a black bear near Delta Jct at his cabin on George lake. He was also the father to my friends Becky and Brittany, and a member of my church-Travis had worked with him and his wife alot recently in the family history center where they were directors, and Travis provides tech support.
The thought I shared with Becky weighed on my mind for a while. My father was also taken in an unexpected and non peacable manner, and that fact bothered me for a long time. You can't help but be bothered at the idea that his last moments were spent in pain and fear. It bothered me for a long long time, untill I had a realization--which realization take a little back story to understand.
When I was maybe 14 I went to a Sunday Evening Discussion for Youth. At church earlier in the day they had given us "tickets" to put our name on for the disscussion that evening. When we showed up and turned in our "ticket" we "boarded a plane" (it was a bunch of chairs set up in rows like plane seats, and they had youth leaders walking through offering small drinks and refreshments. They told us to fasten our seat belts and that we would reach our destination shortly, then started a film. Knowing this was pretend, I thought maybe the film was part of the lesson, but 2 minutes in when we had all kinda settled and relaxed, there was a loud boom and the lights went out and the TV shut off, and a brother came to the front of the room, informed us we had crashed and there were no survivors-and then instructed us to follow him silently. He led us through several rooms where scriptures were read reguarding the state of those who die and where our spirits go. The last room being the dimmed overflow to the chapel with the dividers to the chapel sligtly ajar so we could see part way in, that it was brightly lit-----and one by one our names were called and we were asked to pass through into the chapel (a representation of spirital paradise, or the Celestial kingdom). As we walked in one by one there were ward members dressed in white temple clothes, with smiling faces and warm hugs to greet us. The rest of the evening was a small testimony meeting, but what I took away from that was how happy I felt, how peaceful and wonderful it was as I saw familiar faces and was called in by name.
Now, with that experience, I gained a testimony. And what I know is that that small representation was limited by mortal experience and by mortal minds and feelings-and that though it may not be a perfect representation, I am certain that when we pass through the veil into the next stage of our existance, I know that it is a peaceful and happy experience. I know, that we will see familiar faces, and that we will recognize the voice of our Spiritual Father. I know that while my dad, and while Bro Weaver suffered pain and fear in their mortal death, spiritually they were received to greater peace and joy than we can imagine.
No comments:
Post a Comment