The Soul's Journey to the Afterlife
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About this ebook
This is a book that will allow you to explore your faith, your beliefs, and your relationship with God. It will allow you to examine your traditions and rules regarding religion, worship, and prayer. It will allow you to ponder your journey, raise questions and examine your thoughts on love and forgiveness.
Many of us understand that our time here on earth is a mere passing wind. But what if we could prepare for the afterlife while in this life? Is this in fact what we are doing, or not? Is our relationship with God really as close as we think it is? If we were to leave this earth today, what legacy would we want to leave behind for our family and future generations?
Journey with the author as she explores these questions and more.
Nicole James Rubio
Nicole is a playwright, drama and fantasy author. She spent many years dreaming about becoming a published author and wrote plays and poems in her leisure. Then one day, her husband said, “Babe, if you want to write, then write. I gotcha.” That was her push to began her career as a writer. Before completely diving into writing as a business, she was a court reporter, court reporting instructor and owner of a court reporting firm. The field really helped her with her writing in terms of punctuation, grammar and editing, along with the ability to type 225 wpm, and dictation at 325 wpm, but it also slows her down, because she has been trained to correct errors as she's types, then proofread the sentence, then proof it again. Therefore, it can be extremely hard for her to do a rough draft as quickly as most other writers. In addition to writing, Nicole is an avid reader. She enjoys reading books that allow her to escape and visualize. Anything with a supernatural overtone will grab her attention immediately, even if it's a comic book. Topics dealing with angels, faeries, portals, dimensions, gods and mythology are books of interest as well. Nicole writes under the pseudonym Von Cook, for topics dealing with religion and Biblical instructions on spiritual warfare. On a personal note, she has two sons and lives in Florida with her husband. She enjoys bicycling, camping and the theater. Her greatest love is traveling to places that allow her to escape the noise of the world.
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The Soul's Journey to the Afterlife - Nicole James Rubio
DEDICATION
To my wonderful husband, Felix, and my sons,
Brandon and Jordon
RESURGAM
There is no death! Our stars go down
To rise upon some fairer shore;
And bright heaven's jewelled crown
They shine for evermore.
There is no death! The dust we tread
Shall change beneath the summer showers
To golden grain or mellow fruit,
Or rainbow-tinted flowers.
The granite rocks in powder fall,
And feed the hungry moss they bear
The fairest leaves drink daily life
From out the viewless air.
There is no death! The leaves may fall,
The flowers may fade and pass away;
They only wait through wintry hours
The coming of the May.
And, ever near us, though unseen,
The fair immortal spirits tread;
For all the boundless universe
Is life; there are no dead!
~ Attributed to Bulwer Lytton
INTRODUCTION
The Soul's Journey to the Afterlife was written during a time when I was searching for God. I have spent a lot of years searching for God and looking for Jesus. During the time of this novel, I was looking for the attributes of Jesus in others and the love of God in professing Christians and I didn't see them. Instead, I saw strife, unforgiveness, anger, jealousy, judgmental thinking, and more. Not only within my own family, but with my in-laws as well, even among friends. I would observe people who go to church every Sunday or Saturday and within the hour, after leaving service, the gossip starts, the strife begins, the jealousy is apparent, and will last until the next Sunday right before the pastor says, Let us pray.
I began to wonder, What is it all for?
Why attend Church? Why do we believe what we believe; if we even believe it at all? And then I was reminded of the scripture where Jesus says, These people draweth nigh unto me with their mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but their heart is far from me
(Matthew 15:8). Then I thought, Jesus if people are worshiping in vain, what's the point of it all? From that question began what I call The Soul's Darkest Hour.
The Soul's Darkest Hour, is an hour where you contemplate everything you have ever been taught. It's an hour where you contemplate every single belief you ever had as a child. All the questions that were left unanswered and all the questions left to be discovered. All the hours that you've spent in Christian/Catholic schools, even Sunday school. It's an hour where you truly walk the path of free will.
Free will... what is free will? We've heard it mentioned in the Sunday sermon. We may have even heard it mentioned in Christian movies and television shows. But what does it mean exactly? We talk about choices, we talk about the good and the evil, right and wrong, but we rarely focus on the in-between, which is free will.
Free will is the process of deciding to go either right or left, up or down. It's the process of deciding whether or not to do good or evil. Do I get my revenge on this person? Do I perform illegal actions? Do I say what is always on my mind? Do I choose to love or hate? Do I attempt to make improvements on myself or stay as I am? Do I make judgments about people I do not know or be godly towards them? Do I give others grace and mercy when they hurt me? Do I follow God, the enemy or the masses? This is what free will is all about. It's the decision before the decision. It's the space in-between.
It was this space in-between that lead me to Seminary College. I was still searching for God, perhaps I'd find him there. Granite, I learned a lot. And the lowest grade I ever received while in attendance was a B, and that grade was received because I rushed through the assignment. It was after receiving that B when I discovered that God was always in reach. I was simply in a rush and was running to find him. Then I heard the still small voice within saying, Stop looking for me in other people, you won't always find me there, but be still and know that I AM.
I've taken different paths since then and throughout my life. However, I never lost my faith in God, the Creator of All and I always held to the belief that Jesus existed. I have learned much. I have experienced the supernatural, and I have seen God at work, as well as the enemy at work in many forms. I have come full circle, believing as a did in my youth, before the indoctrination of the pastors beliefs and the traditions of men. Casting aside many ideals that we were never meant to do or become, then seeing God through the eyes of trust, admiration and love. These three, but the greatest of all is — love.
~ Nicole James Rubio
CHAPTER 1
Anywhere But Here
The church bell rang at exactly 9:55 am, as it did every Sunday morning, while people briskly walked toward the door. The parking lot was filled as usual, even down the street many were walking after they parked their vehicles on the curbs of homes with unknown occupants. Rain, sleet or snow, this was the norm every Sunday, rather it was the 8:00 am or 10:00 am service. It was best to get there early to avoid a ½ mile walk to the door, give or take a few steps. Screaming toes in high heels is not a way to begin a Sunday service, but many women will endure the pain. I am just not one of them.
Many Sundays it appears as if most arrive at the church at the same time... late. It's amazing how quickly people lose their religion when searching for a parking space; and the SUVs seem to always arrive early enough to take up two. How convenient. I did my usual and placed my belongings on the pew. It's my way of holding the seat until I return. The highlight of the morning is getting ready to occur. The battle for the last parking space which I often view from the church doors.
Get ready!
Finally, one is spotted... by three other drivers as well. Who will rev their engine first? Who will when the war closest to the door? The man driving a BMW who looks to be around 25 years old? Perhaps the older gentleman driving a Honda Civic with his wife on the passenger side, and two children in the back? Or the great Mrs. Bennett, driving a Cadillac, who has been here since the church's expansion back in the 1980s? Who will back down? Who will be stubborn?
There they go!
It was close, but the BMW won the race again! I guess that's why they call it the ultimate driving machine. Better luck next time, Mrs. Bennett. Look at him, getting out of his BMW and proudly locking his door with the click from his keys as if he just won the Indy 500. Well, at least he held the door open for the woman on crutches, who is not to be confused with the elderly woman with the walker. I suppose looks and youthfulness played a role in his decision.
Despite the church bells ringing minutes prior, the lobby was filled with chatter and people standing similar to clicks in high school. How could people have so much to talk about before the day really began? Even the ushers were attempting to direct the crowd into the sanctuary, This way. Service is getting ready to begin,
an usher said. Some followed the usher while a few decided to take their meeting into the ladies room.
Suit yourself, ladies, I thought, and went to my seat.
The gospel choir readied themselves to march in and many scrambled to get a seat beforehand clearly interrupting those who have been seated for quite some time, patiently awaiting the start of service. Excuse me Ma'am is this seat taken?
a woman asked. I looked over in annoyance and responded, No.
Great. Time to shift.
While some members have their names written on the pew seen only by them, I was not one of them; however, I oftentimes became slightly irritated when we had to shift for latecomers. It has always been my luck to shift directly behind a women wearing a big hat. Terrific. I will admit that every negative emotion I tried to suppress oftentimes revealed itself in the place we call — church. Sadness, anger, annoyances, rudeness; just to name a few, appeared from out the blue. And most of the time, before the service even started.
Then finally, the music director gave the cue, and the organist began, and the choir marched in and shortly thereafter, Mrs. Bennett did too. I wondered where she parked.
Time for us to stand.
Church has so many traditions. I never really understood why and I still don't. We stand, then we sit, we pray, then we don't. We stand for a reading but not all readings. We have a tradition for the second Sunday, but not all Sundays. Testimonials on the third Sunday and the fourth Sundays are up in the air. Some services we'll receive a bulletin and others we won't. The early morning service is over shortly after an hour, but the next service can go on and on and on.
Anywhere but here.
It was the 1st Sunday of the month. A time when the pews are a bit more crowded. The choir seems to have acquired more members and all the associate pastors and deacons of the church are in attendance. I glanced around the church and anxiously waited for twelve o'clock to arrive. Not that service would be over at twelve, but that it would be over soon thereafter... I hoped.
As time passed, I discretely glanced at my slow-moving dial on my wristwatch. I listened to the pastor go on and on about his wife; his best friend, Anthony; his daughter, Rachel, and finally, the lack of tithing from the members. I watched him jump up and down, run across the aisle, dance the 1, 2 Step and then — the sermon ended.
Hallelujah!
Shortly thereafter, we readied for communion as the choir sang, Let us Break Bread Together. It is such a beautiful song; however, if a person doesn't understand the meaning of communion, or is not in tune with Source, one is simply reciting the lyrics and going through the motions as I often did.
Minutes felt like hours.
We waited patiently for the bread and wine — no, bread and grape juice to be distributed. Those in the first few pews often glanced over their shoulders conspicuously; perhaps wondering how much longer until everyone received their fair portion. That was one reason why I stopped sitting near the front of the church on communion Sunday. The wait was dreadful and patience has never been my strongest virtue.
Meanwhile, the pianist continued to