A few weeks ago, something happened. To be completely honest, I’m still not entirely sure what happened. Most might say it was a dream, but to me, it felt very different. I believe it was more of an experience than a dream. It occurred in the middle of the night. I had been asleep—completely unaware—when suddenly, I became fully aware– fully conscious. I found myself untethered and being pulled by an overwhelming force through a place I had never seen before. I’m not even sure it was a “place” in the traditional sense; it felt more like an atmosphere or a dimension beyond physical understanding. I was moving at an indescribable speed, faster than anything I’ve ever known, faster than anything that could be measured. Instinctively, I began calling out for Jesus and searching for Him. I was disoriented, but not afraid. Even in my bewilderment, I felt a strange sense of peace and safety. I wondered if I had died and was entering eternity. I questioned whether I was experiencing the rapture.
“For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.”
(1 Thessalonians 4:16–17, KJV)
In that space, in that fragment of a moment, nothing that mattered before mattered anymore. I was untethered. Everything I had once considered important—my job, my plans, my worries, my identity—suddenly felt irrelevant. None of it mattered. All that remained was me, stripped of flesh and status. Just my soul. My soul was all of ME that was left.
“While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”
(2 Corinthians 4:18, KJV)
“For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.”
(1 Timothy 6:7, KJV)
And then, just as suddenly as it began, I was back—back in my body, in my bed, fully awake, fully aware, soberly shaken but not afraid. The temporary untethering of my soul has provoked a realization that has permanently shifted my perspective.
I’m sharing this because that experience gave me a new level of clarity. I’ve always known—at least intellectually—that our soul is eternal. But until this experience, I had never truly felt the weight of that truth.
“He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world [eternity] in their heart…”
(Ecclesiastes 3:11, KJV)
“Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.”
(Ecclesiastes 12:7, KJV)
It’s left me examining myself, and asking questions I can’t dismiss: What would be left of me if my flesh, and all the identity tied to it, were gone? Would Jesus recognize my soul? Would I even recognize myself? What part of me have I been investing in? Have I been investing more in the outward, temporary part of me than in the inner, eternal one?
“For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.”
(1 Samuel 16:7, KJV)
If all that’s left in the end is my soul—would it bear any resemblance to who I claim to be? Is my soul healthy? Is it thriving? Or is it starving? Is my soul recognizable? Is there any substance to it?
“For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”
(Matthew 16:26, KJV)
“For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.”
(2 Corinthians 4:16, KJV)
If I could somehow take a picture of my soul, what would it look like compared to my flesh? Would my soul have any defining features, any weight, any glow—or would it be barely there? I know what I look like on the outside. I know who I am in the conventions of society. But who am I without that?
“Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning… but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible…”
(1 Peter 3:3–4, KJV)
That question, to me, has been soul-changing. It has provoked me to reconsider how I spend my moments, what I value, and where I place my attention, what I allow to hold my focus and energy, and what parts of me I am investing in. Because one day, I will leave this earth. And when I do, only one part of me will make it.
“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth… But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
(Matthew 6:19–21, KJV)
I want that part to be recognizable. I want my soul to be whole, vibrant, and overflowingly full of Jesus—so much so that it radiates His presence and reflects His identity. When all else is stripped away, I want what remains to be unmistakably His. I want my soul to be so intertwined with Him that there’s no way to tell where I end and He begins.
2 Corinthians 3:18 (KJV):
“But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord”
This experience has prompted me to be more intentional than ever before. To examine and evaluate more purposefully the things I allow myself to partake of. My senses are heightened and the awareness of eternity is on alert, causing me to exercise caution in what part of myself I am feeding. My desire and hope is that when my soul is untethered from my body, all that remains will be the part of me that is defined and shaped by Him—recognizable and bold, a testimony of His glory, a reflection of His mercy, and undeniable evidence of His divine authority, faithfullness, and love.
“But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us,
Even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved;)”
— Ephesians 2:4-5
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