Tours to the beginning of creation
It would be great if we went to heaven and God set up angels to give us a tour of the creation.
If that ever happens, this would be a great line for an angel to say:
"Good morning, and thank you for flying Intergalactic. We know you have a choice in interstellar carrier and appreciate your custom. If your travel plans for today do not include the beginning of creation, now would be an excellent time to deplane. Make sure your safety harness is secure, your tray table is up, and your gravity couch is in an upright position. Jumping to light speed...now."

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A new visitor
The bridge at the Blue Ridge exit seemed sturdy enough, with its reinforced steel beams and concrete. But something happened one night when the coal train was passing across, and so several tons of metal had suddenly collapsed without warning, landing on the roof of a Corolla, crushing the driver, Robert X, to death.
The pain had been excruciating. He had felt his bones breaking to pieces
and When he finally lost consciousness, he thought it was the end, but he found himself awake once more, in his right mind, and feeling no pain.
He awoke in a meadow filled with chirping birds, sunshine, and calm, warming breezes. Sitting up, he could see a huge wall, like the fortifications of a castle, and at one end, some distance away he spotted a gate.

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Something I've just realized
For some time, it bothered me that people not only mocked this journal, but also mocked the Christian depiction of heaven, or the concept of heaven period. It sickened me that they would write essays about how they loved their Macbook Pro and their pickup trucks and movies, but spit on the greatest thing that could ever exist, heaven.
But then I thought about criminals and drunks. You wouldn't invite a serial killer to your child's birthday party without armed guards. And even then it's a bad idea. You wouldn't invite a bunch of mean drunks to your child's birthday party, if you wanted your child to have a pleasant time. If you brought them to Chuck E Cheese, you'd get kicked out. If you're a drunk or a criminal or don't care about providing a safe environment for kids, you'd think this is a great idea ("YEAHH!"), but normal people think it sucks.
A similar idea applies to heaven. People are condemned to hell because they spit on the idea of heaven, they mock the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, and discard it all as trash while they gleefully go about their empty, debased and sinful lives. Sometimes these people are worse than serial killers, because sometimes a serial killer can repent and recognize how important Jesus is to them, and how deeply they need to go to heaven, while someone else seemingly "better" can leave people's lives twice as broken and pain filled, and not care one iota about where they're spending eternity.
It's like having a club where they're giving away free money, with the condition that you have to dress up, and these people arrive naked, and drunk. Sorry, no money for you. Now go away. Forever.
I guess I can't teach you mockers gratitude. That word is foreign to you. That's why you casually laugh away the idea of your own sinfulness, and your need for Jesus to cleanse your soul. Go away, you mockers. You can go to a ha-ha place.

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C5: Wish Granted
Mark sat down at a table filled with strangers, staring at the repast. It was like a casino buffet, with barbecue and pizza, Cajun cornbread and crawdads, rotisserie chicken, crab, shrimp, lasagna, breads, meats, side dishes, filler items, gourmet items, and he had cranberry punch soda and a chocolate milkshake at his spot.
He looked over at Jesus with a frustrated glare.
The next moment, Jesus stood behind him.
Mark turned his chair around. "Why."
Jesus looked unsurprised, but didn't reply.
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C4: The glum guest
Mark followed Jesus into an immense banquet hall with tiers containing huge amounts of tables, and a main bottom floor holding more than a thousand tables. He looked up at the Jesus praising banners and religious signs, feeling a bit out of place.
He sat down at one of the tables.
A merry dance began in an area to the side of the room, one more splendid than any marriage dance ever done.
Mark stayed in his seat, looking at Jesus. "I'm still frustrated. What was it you wanted me to do with my life? And don't give me that line about serving you, because it didn't give me any damn specifics. I want specifics! What job was I supposed to do? I tried the wrong ones. I want you to tell me what one you designed for me. The one where I'd be a success and wouldn't have to worry about finding a job every two weeks. Was it pastor? Was that what I was supposed to do?"
Jesus told him the answer.
"What about all that stuff the college guidance counselors told me? Was there any merit to that, or were there truly no jobs in that field?"
Jesus gave the answer.
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62: Call Center
After working on his project for a few hours, Jason went outside for a break. He strolled down the platform, coming to a long brick building extending for blocks. He walked in a sliding glass door and saw rows of angels seated at desks, speaking into microphone headsets. Flat dish shaped objects sat on their desks, next to tablet computers.
He walked up to one of the angels and someone handed him a headset, sans microphone. A hologram of a woman appeared on the dish in front of him.
"Hello, Tara Black," said the angel. "My name is Ruben, an angel of the Lord. The reason for this communication is basically to explain why you will be spending an eternity in hell."
"There's been some kind of mistake," said the woman. "I don't belong here!"
"Actually, Tara, you do."
"Look. Rabbi Ben Zion Kravitz said that as long as I don't accept Jesus as my savior and live a good Jewish life, I am guaranteed a place in heaven. This is obviously a mistake."
"Okay," said the angel. "If we go by that criteria, I'd say you're still missing the mark. The law states that only a perfect Jew can get into heaven by their own merit."
"But I'm a good Jew! I kept the commandments! I don't belong here! You've got to get me out of here! You've got to believe me! I kept the commandments! This place isn't even supposed to exist!"
"Actually," said the angel. "Our records show several instances of idolatry, covetousness, hatred and rebellion, as well as multiple counts of murder."
"Excuse me! Murder?"
He laughed.
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Requests wanted
What is in your heaven? What wishes and dreams would you like to see fulfilled there? Reply to this post and give your suggestions and I'll write a post about them.

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A3: "Hi, God."
The two strolled through a giant inner corridor, passing crowds of people. Sally was surprised to see so many faces she recognized. She stopped and talked to uncles and people she knew from church, then stared out a large window overlooking a garden. She pointed to it. "Is that Eden?"
"I don't think so," said Christina. "Eden is a few miles away from here." She took Sally's hand, leading her down the path a bit. They came to a large, low buffet table loaded with pizzas, macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches, cookies, candy and glasses of Koolaide.
After stuffing their faces, they went on, coming to a vast, round, library-like gray room with a glass floor. As they walked across the glass, a dolphin swam under them, squeaking and waving a flipper. Sally laughed and waved back at it.
She looked up and saw a tapestry depicting Noah's ark. As she stared at it, the waves crashed and the boat rose on the water.
"Wow!" she giggled.
"Yeah. Those are cool," said Christina. "Let's go talk to God."
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C3: Mark's book
People sat around the tables, chatting. Some had books in their hands. The covers seemed oddly familiar. He noticed one lying out on a table. He picked it up and stared at it. He could have cried. It was his book. His title. His name on the cover. His story inside the cover. A printed paperback.
Seeing a little redhead boy reading one of the books, he sat down next to him. "Hey, kid. Whatcha reading?"
"_______," said the boy. "It's pretty neat. It's like a science fiction story and an inspirational romance story put together in one book."
"You...like it?"
"Yeah. I'm not sure why nobody on earth published it. It's good stuff. Are you going to see the movie?"
"M-movie?" He stammered. "You're kidding."
"Nope. You think you're going to write another?"
"I...I don't know. It was supposed to be sort of a test run to see if I could get anywhere in the business. I didn't bother to write the sequel because there was no demand for it."
"Well you've gotten somewhere now."
Mark sighed. "Well, I would write a sequel, but since there's no conflict in heaven, I'm not sure it will be worth the effort."
"You don't need conflict to write a story in heaven, mister. You've just got to have an idea and a desire to get it produced. People have longer attention spans here."
He nodded. "Thanks. I'll definitely think about it."
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Christmas in heaven
I don't post Christmas wish lists on my journal because 1. Nobody will get me the items I listed, 2. I live with the expectation of getting great treasure in heaven.
So, it would be nice if I could get a Macintosh with Illustrator and tons of animation software, well, it's okay if I don't. There's something better than that in heaven.
It also saves me a boatload of money to think this way.
I think if I had the "spend spend spend now now now" perspective of most bipolar folks, I would have gone bankrupt by now.

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One example of a mansion in heaven
(Swiped from http://katayamma.livejournal.com/431637.html who swiped it from some other website, but I'm offline as I write this).
Kitchen is actually a GNC franchise, Power Bars and Red Bulls aplenty. There's a Chocolatessen. Master bedroom has an on-call masseuse and sports therapist. Study has every language reference book ever written, including now-useless titles like Learn Javascript 2.0! and C++ Programming for Windows 95. One of the garages houses a Hummer, and others contain your H2, and H3, with room for an H4, if they ever invent one.
It is a roost for griffons, with griffons roosting in it. Guests enjoy a home theater with 37 different sports channels. Outside is the moat that protects home from goblin invaders (except the nice ones, and they're all nice) and extended family.
C.F. Blueprints: http://katayamma.livejournal.com/431637.html
Evil computer might not be available, however.

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Forgiving
The incident where my friend criticized my story about heaven happened a long time ago. I was trying to forget it. And I forgive him. But, unfortunately, I can't help but remember it when I write stories about heaven. It's inextricably tied to the story, and that really sucks.
I don't know. Maybe it's my manic depression. I was at Bear Creek Lodge in Saint Joseph, and I couldn't sleep, and my chemically unbalanced mind kept returning to the incident. I was thinking about writing a story about heaven when the old insult popped in my mind. I couldn't sleep, so my mind was wandering. I was trying to go to my happy place, a vision of what heaven is like, when that pain intruded on my thoughts.
But it could be my manic depression. I get angry a lot, at things that happen years ago. Maybe it's because I didn't properly deal with the emotions at the time, so they keep popping up, unresolved. I tend to stuff my feelings away instead of dealing with them sometimes.

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About this group
This is a place where I dream of a better world. A world that is superior to this hunk of rock, this earth that we are forced to occupy. If you don't believe in heaven, you wouldn't understand why I am not content with this less than perfect world. I pity you because you cannot dream. I pity you because you can only see what is in front of you. I pity you because you probably also do not believe in Jesus, and you are going to hell.
But on the other hand, I think that once Christians are in heaven, they will see that the people condemned to hell belong there. They will see that these people were allowed to live long and productive lives, but they showed a consistent, lifelong contempt for Jesus. A contempt so abominable that it cannot be excused by a bad childhood or any number of unfavorable life situations. The Christians will see how the gospel message was wasted, how these unbelievers learned everything significant about Jesus and his love, but still treated him with the utmost hatred. And they will be satisfied to see them rot in hell, for they will have deserved it at this point. They will see the stubborn, cold hearts, and realize that nothing could have been done. God had sent His messengers to them at the best and worst times in their lives, and they only scorned them.

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Story C, part 2
He entered a large room with a throne surrounded by smaller thrones. He knelt before the large one. "Well, God, I'm here. I haven't done my job very well, so please be merciful to me for Jesus' sake. I know I deserve hell, but please forgive me."
"Welcome, Mark," said a voice. "You are forgiven. Welcome to heaven."
"Lord?" said Mark. "Could I ask you a favor?"
"Yes."
"I want to see how people got all those jobs that I applied for. I want to see why they got it instead of me. I want to see how worthy they were to get them."
A screen appeared in the air, and Mark saw scenes from the human resources departments he'd applied to. And soon, it all became clear. He saw where the young and uneducated were hired, and how he was turned down for being overqualified. He saw how all those companies reviewed applications, what they were really looking for, and how all those job hunting booklets were wrong. He saw the popularity games. He saw random picking and computerized deception. He saw the mis-filing, the laziness, the "file 13's." He saw the underqualified being hired for the most pointless and superficial of reasons, and he was content to know that it wasn't always his fault he'd been unemployed all the time. But he also saw saw what he had done to get on the bad side of his reviewers.

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Misinterpreted quote
Some time ago, someone criticized this story by taking a quote out of context and misinterpreting it. They do the same thing with the bible, so it's no wonder that they misinterpret other works as well. The specific quote they misinterpreted was a line where Jason asks God about hell. What I wrote was, "Jason asked God if there was a hell. God responded with something deeper than a simple yes." This unbeliever critic quoted this line out of context, using it to argue that there was no hell, even in the story. He hated the rest of the story, but he latched onto this solitary line because I messed it up. His interpretation was far from my original meaning, which was that, God explained hell in better detail. That's really all I meant. Saying that there is no hell is actually a shallow answer, not a "deep" one, despite what this critic said. A shallow, popularity seeking person is one that thinks that God grades on a curve, and that somehow all people can go to heaven. There is a hell, despite what this critic said, and, unfortunately, if this critic doesn't change his religious beliefs, he will end up going there. I don't care if people don't like this story or LJ group. What's important is that people believe in Jesus. The fact that this critic doesn't believe in Jesus brings great sadness to my heart. Being an old friend, he seems to think that we will meet again in heaven, but if his beliefs don't change, we won't.
There is an absolute truth. Not everyone can be right. There cannot be multiple paths to God. God is not a god of confusion. To simultaneously validate all religions would be a denial of the truth. If Jews don't agree with this, they don't deserve a country, and it's no wonder they're losing turf in the middle east.
I think what this person failed to understand was that attacking my faith in Jesus would not push me to believe what he believes. It wouldn't. Instead, it would push me towards atheism. Atheism makes a lot more sense than Conservative Judaism. Atheism doesn't claim that "there are many paths to God." Without Jesus, that would be the option I'd choose. Either that, or I would join Orthodox Judaism, a religion with strict rules and none of this touchy feely nonsense about there being "multiple paths to God."
I'd like to see him misinterpret this!

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(C) The Bum
It was cold. The thirty year old man lay in the alleyway, over a sewer vent, because it was warm. His clothing was ripped and it didn't fit, because he couldn't afford good clothes. He couldn't afford much of anything anymore. He had a long beard and a moustache that got into his mouth when he ate. He smelled bad. He didn't have access to a bath or shower. He didn't have a home. He had on a coat. A black coat made of artificial fibers. Most of the down had fallen out. It was ripped and dirty, and it didn't keep him very warm anymore. He'd had it for years. He had a beat-up pillowcase stuffed with rags that he used as a pillow. He slept in the alleyway, next to a rusty green dumpster, amidst bottles and trash, and rats.
He had a B.A. in Studio Art from UMKC. He had a Prepress Certificate from Penn Valley, but they were just pieces of paper. The jobs were taken. He'd been to their offices. They'd shown him the door. "Don't call us, we'll call you." They wanted him to know software he didn't know. They expected him to have experience he didn't have. In short, they didn't want him. No one did. He couldn't even get a job at a supermarket. They only hired kids. It seemed nobody wanted him. The temp agency he worked for, Manpower, never had anything. But they had him sign a contract, so that he couldn't even draw unemployment.
Then his parents and his aunt and uncle died. He could no longer pay for the house, and no one could help him. His brother was just barely making ends meet with his job. So he did the only thing he was qualified for, the only thing he could think of, the only place where he thought he could find money. He did panhandling. It wasn't enough.
The city bought their house. Someone else moved in. And he lived on the street.
Then winter came. The shelters were all full. There was nowhere for him to go. So there he lay, in the alleyway, keeping warm over a sewer vent. It smelled bad, but it was warm.
But overnight, the temperature dropped far below 0 degrees, and he froze to death.
When he awoke, he was warm, and more comfortable than he'd been in years. His lung and back problems were gone. He smelled barbecue.
He examined himself. He'd been dressed in fine clothing. A clean, pressed, comfortable suit. No uncomfortable tie. His feet were warm and toasty in a pair of brand new shoes.
He stood outside a giant gate made of a shiny white material, decorated with twelve sets of Hebrew words, etched in the surface in giant block lettering. Twelve golden angel reliefs framed the door. Crowds of glowing people stood in front of the gate, guarding it. A large wall made of jasper connected to it, extending forever in either direction. The wall connected to a gold floor, its base covered in precious stones. A light seemed to be coming from somewhere above, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from.
This has to be heaven, he thought. The one solace, the one comfort, the one hope that made his pathetic, miserable existence palatable had been realized. "Thank you, Jesus," he whispered. "Thank you, Jesus."
He walked to the gate.
The giant door cracked open. He walked through.

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A website about heaven
http://www.heavenisopen.com
I don't know about the Narnia comments on this site, but otherwise, it's about heaven, so it belongs on this community.

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61: Heaven's commercials
Jason noticed a television in the corner of the room. He turned it on and saw a kid talking about how he missed a girl named Esmerelda. He wanted her back. Jason was a bit annoyed by seeing it there. I thought there would be no commercials in heaven. He changed the channel and saw someone realizing their dreams of producing their own TV show. It was some person that always wanted to do that, but they lived in the country, in an impoverished town, so they never had a chance to do that on earth. It was a good show. But after a few minutes of the program, the kid was on the TV, talking about Esmerelda again.
Jason became a bit more peeved as he watched it, but, just then, a girl appeared at the man's door and the commercial abruptly ended, never to be seen again. Wow, Jason thought. I feel like a jerk! "Does this happen often?"
"What?" said Andy.
"These commercials. Do they just end like that?"
Andy shrugged. "Pretty much. Instead of commercials, we have little requests like that here. People get on the TV and ask to see someone, and, a lot of times, the person the ask for is there, looking for them. The TV is very handy for them to get together again."
"And once they do, they just go off the air?"
Andy nodded. "Sometimes they say thanks. That's about it."
Matt stared at the screen. "I'll never think the same about commercials again."

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60: The Hall of Fame
There was a soda machine and a floor refrigerator full of ice cream in the corner of the room. Jason went back there and made himself a Peach Nehi float. He drank it while watching the guys work on the software product.
"Did you visit the hall of fame yet?" said Andy Kim.
Jason shrugged. "Maybe. I don't remember."
"It's got a website with files and documents on it. You might want to check it out." Andy typed something in on the computer and brought up the Hall of Fame's website. He clicked a link about records or something, and it automatically brought up a page about Jason. "Here you go."
Jason sat down and looked at the screen. On it was a list of files. He opened one. He found a document describing his evangelism and service. This particular page showed a photograph of him clearing up a Suntron warehouse, talking to a guy about church. There were suggestions about what he could have said differently, and on the bottom it told him what happened to the guy after Jason was no longer working with him. There were several files just like that one, describing what Jason did right, what he could have done better, and how a particular person was eventually brought to Christ, or how that person was lost anyway. Jason wished he could have had something like that website while he was on earth, but he appreciated that he finally got a clarification about it anyway.

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A2: The Gate
Sally felt good. Comfortable. And she could smell popcorn and cake in the air. Thinking about her shoes, she looked down. Instead of overalls and a sweatshirt, she had on an odd looking white robe. She giggled. Someone dressed me up in a Star Wars costume! The outfit was warm and comfortable.
She looked around and saw a crowd of strangers. She began to get uncomfortable. "Mommy?"
Immediately after she said this, a girl her age came up to her and said, "Your mommy isn't here yet."
The girl had on a robe made of beautiful parrot feathers. Her skin was tan, her black hair put up in the Hopi style. Sally stared at her. "Why not?"
"Because you're in heaven, and she's not."
Sally felt a chill run up her spine. "I'm...in heaven?"
The girl nodded. "My name's Christina. What's your name?"
"Sally. Sally Smith."
They shook hands.
Sally frowned. "So I'm dead?"
Christina smiled. "No, you are alive in Christ!"
"But, then how did I get here?"
"Your body died. Mine did too. But they're just like old clothes," Christina shrugged. "We don't need them anymore."
Sally bit her lip. "Will my mommy be coming here soon?"
Christina furrowed her brow. "I don't know. You need to ask God that."
Sally nodded. "Well, all right. Where is God?"
"Right here, silly."
Sally looked around. "Um, God? Are you there?"
"Yes," said God.
"Um, where's my mommy?"
"Your mommy is on earth. I have a plan for her. I had to bring you here in order to fulfill my purpose for her."
"And what is that purpose, God?"
"I am working to bring her into my kingdom, but she still does not accept me."
Sally nodded sadly. "Mommy doesn't like church or Jesus or anything."
"That is why I needed to bring you here. She has plugged her ears with the things of wealth and comfort."
Sally sighed. "So when is she coming here?"
"That is not for you to know, little one. But don't be afraid. Look at all those people around you. They are all your family. They are all your mommy, daddy, sisters and brothers."
"But what about strangers, God? Mommy told me not to talk to strangers."
"Sally, this is my kingdom. Strangers are no longer a threat. There is no one here that you cannot trust. Your mother told you not to speak to strangers because you were living in a world filled with sin and evil. That world is gone now. There are no more child molesters, no more child killers, no more child abusers. Everyone here loves Jesus, and they will never, ever hurt you."
Sally swallowed. "So, there's nobody like Uncle Mike? Anywhere?"
"Uncle Mike will never hurt you again. And neither will anyone else in my kingdom."
"That's...good."
"Hey, let's play Pokemon," said Christina.
Sally stared at her. "I don't have any cards."
"Who said anything about cards?" She took a Pokedex out of her pocket. "We have the real thing here." She threw down a ball, and a Pikachu appeared in a flash of light.
Sally chuckled. "That's funny." She went over and petted the yellow creature on the head.
"Pika, Pika."
"I don't really like Pokemon that much," said Sally. "Your Pikachu is cute, though."
Christina smiled. "Thanks."
"You look like Leia."
"I do?" Christina blinked. "Jacob's wife?"
"No," said Sally. "That lady from Star Wars."
"Oh," Christina giggled. "That's a Hopi tradition. I am a Native American."
"I'm a Native American, too," said Sally.
"Um, actually, you're not."
"What is a Native American, then?"
"It means you're an Indian."
"Oh." She paused. "Can you show me how to shoot an arrow?"
Christina laughed. "Okay."
They came to a giant white gate framed by twelve golden angel reliefs. It cracked open and they stepped through.

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