A Matter of Life and Death

“Most of us know that our physical body is mortal and the time will come when we lay it aside. Yet our western culture has a severe phobia around death and dying. It is a thing we do not want to acknowledge let alone talk about. Mainstream science and medical materialism assume that consciousness is an activity of the brain, and when the brain dies, so do we.

Research into this field is challenging the materialistic model. There is now an international conversation taking place on the question of what it means to live in a body, and what it means to let it go.”

J Douglas Bottorff

Those of you who are familiar with my ministry know of my interest in near-death research and the stories of those who have clear memories of their near-death experiences. My primary interest in this field of study is for the wealth of knowledge it offers concerning the nature of the soul. The overwhelming conclusion is that the soul does not die. This thing we call death is but the laying aside of the physical body. The soul itself continues on an incredible adventure. The proper words elude those who try to tell their story because we have no language for it. The vast majority return with an understanding that does not usually include traditional religious views of judgment, heaven, and hell. Their experience is one of incredible freedom and unconditional love beyond anything they have known in their earthly experience. Most are extremely reluctant to return to the confines of their physical body and often feel anger toward those responsible for their resuscitation.

For me, the value of this research is that it demonstrates that our spiritual essence is far more advanced than we have imagined. The brain and body impose restrictions that lead us to believe we are spiritually incomplete, and that our work on earth is to further advance the soul, to become closer to the image and likeness of God that we were created to be. This incompleteness is apparently an illusion. For example, a person who leaves their body during a surgical procedure will know the thoughts of everyone on the medical team. If they pass into the waiting room, they know the thoughts of their loved ones. All communication is telepathic. All vision is direct seeing, often in a 360 degree field. The constraints imposed by our physical senses probably make our experience in a body more manageable. Some people retain this psychic component and “hear” the mental chatter of the public. They find this disconcerting and feel the need to remove themselves from the crowd.

A common feature with many experiencers is their frustration in trying to tell loved ones that they are okay, that they are having an incredibly beautiful experience. Those with a body cannot hear what they say. The body is our physical interface for audible and visual communication. Out of the body we have incredible vision and hearing, but these spiritual senses operate at a much higher frequency. We cannot communicate in familiar ways. Loved ones will often appear in vivid dreams or visions. Though these are fleeting, they are usually convincing. Those who experience such visitations know the difference between a typical dream and an actual communication.

Another aspect of the NDE that is comforting to those of us who remain is that we are told our loved ones are greeted either by deceased relatives or by beings of light who are there to assure, comfort, and guide them. These relatives or beings are often described as incredibly loving and accepting, giving the distinct impression that they have always been known by the one making the transition. It is usually they who inform the experiencer that they may proceed or they must go back because it isn’t their time yet. Those who report to us their story obviously either made the choice to return to their body or were informed they had to come back. Most do not wish to return but they still find themselves back in their body.

This raises a very interesting question. They are told they must return because it isn’t yet their time. Yet they are rarely told what it is they must do when they return to their body. Researchers say it takes about seven years for the person to integrate this experience into their earthly life. They have been to a place few of their family or friends understand. Professional help is difficult to find, though the internet has made this much easier. It seems that the work many of them find meaningful and most helpful is to go public with their story.

This has given rise to groups like the International Association for Near-Death Studies, https://iands.org/home.html, which provides much needed resources and a welcome community to those struggling with their NDE or with issue of death overall. Another excellent site containing over 5,000 stories is NDERF (Near-Death Experience Research Foundation).

As a minister, I have long recognized two aspects of losing a loved one through death. First, there is the initial sense of loss and the deep pain this causes, especially when a death is unexpected. Grief is a natural part of this initial phase and I do not believe there are any quick cures for it. Nor should there be. Grief can trigger an important process of self-reflection and prompt a deeper understanding of life.

This is the second aspect of losing a loved one through death. The experience can prompt us to consider a much broader comprehension of what it means to be human, one that transcends our normal daily concerns with living. Most of us know that our physical body is mortal and the time will come when we lay it aside. Yet our western culture has a severe phobia around death and dying. It is a thing we do not want to acknowledge let alone talk about. Mainstream science and medical materialism assume that consciousness is an activity of the brain, and when the brain dies, so do we.

The good news they are bringing is that there is no death, that our negatively dark attitudes toward it are misplaced. Inquiring minds are not only bringing new and refreshing light on this subject, they are also probing deeply into the experience of children who recall verifiable details from former lives. Though I have no memories of previous lives, I can easily accept that this is not my first rodeo.

While we do not want to glorify the subject of death, we want to open our minds to thinking about it in a healthy, curious, and freeing way. While our sense of loss cannot and should not be denied, our grief is momentary. I have come to accept that the gift of sharing the life of another is in fact an experience that lasts an eternity.

[Note: Since I published this article, our son has passed.]

The Passing of our Son

February 2, 2024 2 Minutes

Dear friends,

I want to let you know that Beth and I, and our daughter Audrey, were informed last Tuesday that our son, Ashley, passed from this plane. He lived in the Los Angeles area. The cause of death appears to be heart related, though the coroner’s report is inconclusive at this point. This is the kind of news no parent or sibling wishes to receive, yet here it is on our doorstep. This news has triggered an emotional journey ranging from shock and grief to feelings wafting in like a warm breeze that carries the promise of a new Spring of comfort and meaning.

Over the last forty-five years, I have conducted many funeral services, but always as the comforter, the pastor, the counselor, the one whose purpose was to inspire a higher vision of this sometimes baffling experience of life in a body. It has been my role to help others navigate through what can feel like an earthly maze, with each turn often leaving us with more questions than answers. I have done my best to show others there are answers, to step back and see life as the soul sees it–eternal, beautiful, meaningful, and lived with purpose.

I have also acknowledged the pain of loss, the feeling that even the broadest perspective of life and death cannot sooth. And now I am presented with this side. The mind floods with a mix of memories and the overwhelming sadness that we will never speak to our son again, never hear his voice, or feel the warmth of his hug. It is a void nothing can fill. The comforting words of family and friends are a much needed and appreciated healing balm that is so important on this unexpected journey. Ultimately, however, this is a path that every person in our place must walk alone. Beth, Audrey, myself, our family, and those who were closest to Ashley are, in one sense, walking through this together. Even so, we are each called upon to find within ourselves that fountain of strength, wisdom, and vision that enables us to rise from this darker pain of loss to the bright light of joy of what has been gained by knowing this beautiful soul.

It was at the moment of conception that Ashley announced to me that he was on his way. He arrived on April 20, 1978. I felt him as a very warm and peaceful presence, unlike anything I had experienced. At the time I did not know what had happened, but I soon found out. I experienced it once again when Audrey announced her coming. This time I knew our family was growing. When I think of this, I am reminded of a line from James Dillet Freeman’s poem, The Traveler: “Our life did not begin with birth, it is not of this earth.” I’ve always had the sense that our children intentionally joined Beth and me on our journey. Ashley now continues his life in another way, another dimension, and we will miss him terribly. But we are also grateful that he stepped in and shared with us this part of his eternal life. He leaves us with a gift we will always cherish.

Beth and I thank you for your prayers and positive thoughts in this challenging time. Ashley has moved into his next experience in living, and we see his every step lighted with the love of God.

This has given rise to groups like the International Association for Near-Death Studies, https://iands.org/home.html, which provides much needed resources and a welcome community to those struggling with their NDE or with issue of death overall.

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