“Heaven is real! The Amazing Story of a Little Boy's Journey to Heaven and Back By Lynn Vincent, Todd Burpo. Lynn Vincent - Heaven is real! The amazing story of a little boy's journey to heaven and back Heaven is real the story of a boy

Todd Burpo, Lynn Vincent

Heaven is for Real: A Little Boy's Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back

© 2010 by Todd Burpo

© AST Publishing House, 2015

© 2010 by Todd Burpo

© Translation into Russian, Vik Sparov, 2015

© AST Publishing House, 2015

God as a creator deserves all credit! And the facts presented in this book confirm this truth in a new light. I've known Colton since birth. Already in early childhood, he was characterized by a keen interest and desire for the spiritual. I remember at the age of about three, sitting on my lap, he looked me straight in the eyes and asked if I wanted to go to heaven when I died. Then he said to me, "You must always have Jesus in your heart." I warmly recommend this book to everyone: it gives a new perspective on the reality of God, who is often hidden and invisible, but at the right time always comes to the rescue.

Phil Harris,

Superintendent of Wesleyan Churches, Colorado-Nebraska District

Colton's story could have become part of the New Testament, but God in the 21st century chose to speak to us in the person of a child who, with his sinless eyes, saw and revealed some of the secrets of the heavenly abode. The book captures attention, and the truth strikes the imagination, causing a thirst to learn as much as possible.

Jo Ann Lyon,

chief steward of the Wesleyan Church

The Bible describes paradise as the dwelling place of God. This is a real place that will one day become an eternal abode for all who have given themselves to God. In this book, Todd Burpo talks about his son's experience when he had an operation to remove an acute appendicitis. This is an honest, sincere and touching story that brings hope to the hearts of all those who believe in eternal salvation.

Robert Morris,

pastor of Gateway Church, Southlake, Texas

There are many NDE stories, but I haven't read them; I didn’t read it simply because I didn’t know if the author could be trusted. But as soon as I read the title of this book on the cover, I opened it and, imagine, then I could no longer close it. Why? Yes, because I know the author of the book well and believe him. Todd Burpo gives us a wonderful gift: he and his son lift the veil over eternity, giving us a sneak peek at what lies beyond.

Everett Piper,

president of Wesleyan University, Oklahoma, author of Why I'm a Liberal and Other Conservative Ideas

A beautifully written book that gives a glimpse into heaven, gives courage to doubters and awe to believers.

In this beautiful and well-written book, Colton, a four-year-old boy, experienced a near-death experience (NDE) while under anesthesia.

As a scientist, I have studied over 1600 cases of NDE and I can rightly state that typical NDEs can occur in anesthetized children at a very early age. But even with this experience of NDE, I believe that Colton's case is dramatic, exceptional, and inspiring to Christians around the world.

Geoffrey Long,

MD, Founder of the NDE Research Foundation, Author of The Evidence for Afterlife: The Science of NDE

Heaven Is Real is a wonderful book. It once again confirms how important faith is in our life - it is important for both children and adults.

Timothy P. O'Holleran,

M.D.

Some stories just can't be told. They live on their own. The book you are holding in your hands is one such story. But she will not stay with you for long; it seethes and bubbles, and in the course of your conversations it will inevitably break out in search of those who have not yet heard of it. I know it will happen to you because it happened to me too.

Phil McCallum

Senior Preacher, Bothell Church, Evergreen Community, Washington

Like the parents of a child who experienced something amazing and inexplicable by earthly standards, I celebrate with this family and share their joy at the victory - the presentation and publication of this incomparable story.

I tell you truly, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus the Nazarene (Matt. 18:3)

Gratitude

In preparing Colton's story for publication, we were able to work not only with dedicated professionals, but also with considerate and genuinely caring people. Undoubtedly, their knowledge and experience made a great impression on Sonya and me, but we were even more captivated by their character and cordiality.

Phil McCallum, Joel Needler, Lynn Vincent, and Debbie Wickwier not only poured their lives into this book, but spiritually enriched our entire family. Without their incredible efforts and spiritual sensitivity, the book "Paradise exists in reality" would never have turned out to be so wonderful.

We offer a daily prayer of thanksgiving to God for bringing these gifted and talented people together to help us tell Colton's story. Each of them has become a real blessing for us.

Sonya and I consider it an incomparable honor and privilege to call them our friends.

Prologue
Angels at Arby

Independence Day celebrations evoke patriotic parades, mouth-watering smells of grilled barbecue, sweet popcorn and a night sky lit up with flashes of light. But for my family, the last days of this holiday in 2003 were a big event for a completely different reason.

Sonia, my wife, and my kids and I planned to go to Sioux Falls, Dakota to visit Sonia's brother Steve and his family. And at the same time to look at Bennett, nephew, born two months ago. Plus, our kids, Cassie and Colton, have never seen a waterfall before. (Yes, yes, there are famous waterfalls in Sioux Falls, which are called Sioux Falls.) But this is not even the main thing. The main thing is that since that memorable trip to the city of Greeley, Colorado, which we undertook in March, which turned into a terrible nightmare for our entire family, we left our hometown of Imperial, Nebraska for the first time for a long time.

To be honest, during the last trip, one of our children almost died. You can call it crazy, but at that time we were possessed by some vague fears and forebodings, and sometimes it came to the point that we simply did not want to go anywhere. As the pastor of the local church, I do not believe in superstition, and I myself am not superstitious, but some supernatural part of my being that was beyond my control told me that as long as we were under the home roof and connected to our home, we were safe. But in the end, reason—and an irresistible desire to see Bennett, the nicest kid in the world, according to Steve's words—took over. So we stuffed our Ford Expedition SUV with our personal belongings and whatever else we needed to last a week, and got ready to head north.

Sonya and I agreed that it was best to drive at night, because although we fasten the four-year-old Colton to the seat with a seat belt, but this is always done against his will ("I'm a big boy, dad!" - He usually resents), and so at least there is hope that most of the way he will just sleep. So it was about 9:00 p.m. when I pulled my Ford out of our parking lot, drove past my pastor, Crossroads Wesleyan Church, and pulled onto Highway 61.

A clear, cloudless night stretched over the plains; in the dark velvet sky the crescent of the moon shone brightly. Imperial is a small farming town tucked into the northern border of Nebraska. With its two hundred souls and no road lights at all, it was one of those towns where there are more churches than banks, and where at lunchtime the farmers (shod, as always, in Wolverine boots, in caps from John Dear and with pincers hanging from the belt, intended for repairing hedges), returning from the fields, habitually flocked and settled in the local family cafe. So our children, six-year-old Cassie and four-year-old Colton, were burning with impatience to quickly get to the “big city” of Sioux Falls to see their newborn cousin.

Ninety miles from the town of North Platte, children chatted and played, and Colton, posing as a superhero who fought global battles to match his own, managed to save the world from destruction seven times in this time. It wasn't even ten when we drove into this town of 24,000 whose greatest claim to fame is that the town was the birthplace of the most famous cowboy and showman in the Wild West, Buffalo Bill Cody. North Platte is the last point of civilization (or at least the last civilized stop available to us) that we passed that evening before rushing northwest through vast expanses of cornfields, where there is nothing but fallow deer, pheasants and rare farm houses. Therefore, we planned ahead of time to make a stop here to fill the gas tank, and along with our own stomachs.

After refueling at a gas station in Sinclair, we drove down Jeffers Street, and as I passed the traffic light, I suddenly remembered that if we had turned left, we would eventually have reached the Regional Medical Center, the same one where we spent in March was fifteen nightmarish days, most of them on their knees praying to God to save Colton's life. God heard our prayers, but Sonya and I have since joked bitterly about this, that this difficult experience cost us many years of life.

Sometimes laughter is the best way to let go of life's tough moments, so as I rounded the corner, I decided to tease Colton a little.

"Hey, Colton," I said, "if we turn right here, we'll end up in the hospital again." Do you want to go back to the hospital?

He laughed in the dark.

No, dad, I don't! Better take Cassie. She definitely wants to go to the hospital!

His sister (she was sitting next to him) also laughed:

- Well, I do not! I don't want to go there either!

Sonya from the passenger seat turned to her son, whose child seat was located just behind mine. I didn't see him, but I vividly imagined his short crew cut and blue eyes that shone in the dark.

“Colton, do you remember the hospital?” Sonya asked.

“Yes, Mom, I remember,” he replied. “It was there that the angels sang to me.

Time inside the machine seemed to stop. Sonya and I looked at each other, exchanging a silent question: "He did he really say that, or did I hear it?”

Sonya leaned towards me and whispered:

“Did he tell you about angels before?”

I shook my head.

- And you?

She shook too.

I turned to Arbi's, pulled into the parking lot, and turned off the engine. The white light of a street lamp seeped in from the street through the windows of the car. Somehow I turned around in my seat and turned to face Colton. I remember at that moment I was struck by how small and childishly fragile he was. It was still a very small boy, in whose voice one could clearly hear genuine (and sometimes baffling) sincere innocence. If you are a parent yourself, you will understand what I mean: this is the age when a child, pointing a finger at a pregnant woman, can (very loudly) ask: “Daddy, why is this aunt so fat?” Colton was still in that rather limited space of life where neither tact nor perfidy was known to him. All these thoughts flashed through my mind as I tried to figure out how to respond to my four-year-old son's claim that angels sang songs to him. Finally I made up my mind.

“Colton, did the angels sing to you while you were in the hospital?” Is that what you said?

He nodded his head quickly.

What did they sing to you?

Colton rolled his eyes, slanting them slightly to the right, his characteristic reminiscence posture.

“Well, they sang “Jesus Loves Me” and “Jesus Fought for Jericho,” he replied seriously. - I asked them to sing "We will stir you up" 1
"We Will, We Will Rock You" is a song by Queen from the album News of the World (1976). – Hereinafter, the translator's notes.

But they didn't want to.

Cassie giggled softly, and I noticed that Colton's answers sound quite casual and prosaic, as a matter of course, and he answers quickly, without a hint of confusion.

Sonya and I exchanged glances again, as if to say, “What's going on? Did he imagine it or dream it?

And there was another unspoken doubt: “How are we supposed to react to this?”

And then a completely natural question arose in my head.

“Colton, what did those angels look like?” I asked my son.

He laughed happily, as if remembering something.

Well, one of them looked like Dennis's grandfather, although it wasn't him because the grandfather wears glasses.

Then he immediately became serious.

“Daddy, it was Jesus who told the angels to sing to me, because I was very afraid. And I got better.

Jesus?

I looked at Sonya again: she was sitting with her mouth open. I turned back to Colton.

Was Jesus there?

My son nodded and replied as if it were an event no more remarkable than the appearance of a ladybug in our yard:

Yes, Jesus was there.

Where exactly was Jesus?

Colton looked me straight in the eyes.

“I sat on His lap.

If conversations, like trains, had stopcocks, one of them would be activated right now. Speechless in amazement, Sonya and I looked at each other, exchanging another silent message: "We should have a serious talk about this."

We got out of the car and the whole family went to Arbi, from where we left a few minutes later with a bag full of food. On the way, Sonya and I managed to exchange a few remarks in a half-whisper.

“Do you really think he saw angels?”

- BUT Jesus?!

- Right, I don't know.

- Maybe it was a dream?

- I do not know. He speaks very confidently.

As we got into the car and Sonia distributed the roast beef sandwiches and potato chips to everyone, I suddenly had another question.

“Colton, where were you when you saw Jesus?”

He looked at me like he was asking, "Didn't we just talk about this?"

In the hospital, where else! Well, when Dr. O'Holleran dealt with me.

“Dr. O’Holleran took care of you twice, remember? I asked. Colton had emergency appendicitis surgery at the hospital, then bowel cleansing surgery, and then we took Colton one more time to have his keloids removed, but it wasn't at the hospital anymore, it was at Dr. O'Holleran's clinic. Are you sure it happened in the hospital?

Colton nodded.

Yes, in the hospital. When I was with Jesus, you were praying and your mother was talking on the phone.

There was no doubt about it: it was a hospital. But God! How does he know where we were then?

“Colton, but you were in the operating room,” I said. How did you know what we were doing?

“I saw you,” Colton said simply and convincingly. “I came out of my body, looked down and saw the doctor taking care of my body. I saw you and mom. You were alone in a small room and prayed, and your mother was in another room, also praying and talking on the phone.

These words of Colton touched me to the core. Sonya looked at me with wide eyes (I have never seen such wide eyes in her eyes), but she did not say anything - she simply stared and nibbled a sandwich with an absent look.

I couldn't bear more at that moment. Silently, I started the engine, pulled the Ford out onto the highway, and headed for North Dakota. On either side of the I-80 we were speeding along were endless pastures, dotted here and there with ponds and duck pools that gleamed silver in the moonlight. It was very late, and soon the children, as we had foreseen, fell asleep peacefully.

Looking at the road that stretched before me, I recalled with amazement what I had just heard. Our little son told something absolutely incredible - and confirmed it with credible information, and one that he simply could not know. We did not tell him what we were doing and what we were doing while he lay in the operating room, being in a state of anesthesia, that is, logically, unconscious.

I asked myself over and over: How did he know about it? But by the time we crossed the South Dakota state line, I had a completely different question on my mind: Could this really happen?»

Chapter 1
Insectarium

Our family trip, which eventually turned into a nightmare, was intended to be a holiday trip. I myself, in early March 2003, was to travel to Greeley, Colorado, on business to attend a meeting of representatives of the Wesleyan District Council of Pastors. And it all started in August 2002; then our family got pretty bad, because we embarked on a thorny path full of misfortunes and failures: seven months of incessant injuries and illnesses, including a broken leg, two operations and suspected cancer, and all this multiplied by financial difficulties; our bank account was so depleted that when receipts and payment notices came in the mail, I could almost hear the sucking sounds they made. Fortunately, these difficulties did not affect my modest pastor's salary, but they thoroughly undermined our main financial stronghold, our private business - the ground garage doors that we owned. And our medical problems also cost us a lot of money.

But by February, the situation seemed to have radically changed for the better: we recovered and stood on our feet. And since I still had to go, we decided to turn the business trip into a significant event, a kind of turning point in our family life - a little rest, fun, refreshment of mind and soul, and with new hope to move on with life.

Sonya learned from someone about a very nice place, very popular with children. It was outside Denver and was called the Butterfly Pavilion. Widely advertised as a "zoo for invertebrates", the Butterfly Pavilion opened in 1995 as a teaching and learning center designed to educate people about the wonders of the world of insects and sea creatures of the sort that normally inhabit the tidal waves and salt lakes that remain after the tide. In those days, at the entrance to the zoo, visitors were greeted by a huge colored metal sculpture of a praying mantis in a prayer pose. But in 2003, this giant insect was no longer on its usual pedestal, and the pavilion's squat brick building, located about a fifteen-minute drive from downtown Denver, also did not beckon with a colorful slogan: “Attention! Kids, this is for you! But inside the children, and especially children of the age of Colton and Cassie, the same mysterious world of miracles awaited.

The first room we entered had the funny name "Crawl, crawl, and you'll find it." It was an insectarium - a room filled with terrariums, where all kinds of creeping and crawling creatures were placed, from beetles and cockroaches to spiders. One structure, the Tarantula Tower, attracted Cassie and Colton like a magnet. This terrarium tower was, exactly as advertised, a glass-protected natural habitat for all sorts of hairy, thick- and thin-legged spiders that either captivate you with their appearance or make you shiver.

Cassie and Colton took turns climbing a three-step ladder to see the inhabitants of the upper floors of this "tower". In one terrarium, a hairy Mexican white tarantula occupied a corner, whose external skeleton was described in the accompanying text as "painted in a pleasant pale color." Another terrarium contained a red and black tarantula native to India. One of the most feared-looking inhabitants of this reserve was the “skeleton” tarantula, so named because its hind legs were divided into segments by white stripes, so that the spider itself looked like a skeleton on an x-ray. Later, we learned that this tarantula is special and has a rebellious spirit of a tramp: once he somehow managed to get out of his prison, invaded a neighboring cage and ate his neighbor for dinner.

Rising up in his chair to get a better look at what this rebellious tarantula looked like, Colton glanced at me and smiled, and this smile really warmed my heart. I felt my neck muscles relax, and somewhere inside me, it was as if some kind of valve suddenly opened, releasing excess tension, the emotional equivalent of a long inhalation and exhalation. For the first time in all these months, I suddenly felt immensely happy to be with my family.

- Wow! Look over here! Cassie exclaimed, pointing to one of the terrariums. Slightly awkward and lanky, my six-year-old daughter was surprisingly lively and agile, a trait she inherited from her mother. Cassie pointed to a sign that said, “Goliath bird-eater. Females reach a length of more than eleven inches.

The specimen in front of us was only six inches long, but it was massive and thick, like Colton's wrist. He stared through the glass with fixed and wide eyes. I looked around and saw Sonya wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Apparently, one of the attendants also saw this expression on Sonya's face, as he immediately came up and made a short speech in defense of the tarantula.

Todd Burpo, Lynn Vincent

Heaven is real! The Amazing Story of a Little Boy's Journey to Heaven and Back

Todd Burpo, Lynn Vincent

Heaven is for Real: A Little Boy's Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back

© 2010 by Todd Burpo

© AST Publishing House, 2015

© 2010 by Todd Burpo

© Translation into Russian, Vik Sparov, 2015

© AST Publishing House, 2015

God as a creator deserves all credit! And the facts presented in this book confirm this truth in a new light. I've known Colton since birth. Already in early childhood, he was characterized by a keen interest and desire for the spiritual. I remember at the age of about three, sitting on my lap, he looked me straight in the eyes and asked if I wanted to go to heaven when I died. Then he said to me, "You must always have Jesus in your heart." I warmly recommend this book to everyone: it gives a new perspective on the reality of God, who is often hidden and invisible, but at the right time always comes to the rescue.

Phil Harris,

Superintendent of Wesleyan Churches, Colorado-Nebraska District

Colton's story could have become part of the New Testament, but God in the 21st century chose to speak to us in the person of a child who, with his sinless eyes, saw and revealed some of the secrets of the heavenly abode. The book captures attention, and the truth strikes the imagination, causing a thirst to learn as much as possible.

Jo Ann Lyon,

chief steward of the Wesleyan Church

The Bible describes paradise as the dwelling place of God. This is a real place that will one day become an eternal abode for all who have given themselves to God. In this book, Todd Burpo talks about his son's experience when he had an operation to remove an acute appendicitis. This is an honest, sincere and touching story that brings hope to the hearts of all those who believe in eternal salvation.

Robert Morris,

pastor of Gateway Church, Southlake, Texas

There are many NDE stories, but I haven't read them; I didn’t read it simply because I didn’t know if the author could be trusted. But as soon as I read the title of this book on the cover, I opened it and, imagine, then I could no longer close it. Why? Yes, because I know the author of the book well and believe him. Todd Burpo gives us a wonderful gift: he and his son lift the veil over eternity, giving us a sneak peek at what lies beyond.

Everett Piper,

president of Wesleyan University, Oklahoma, author of Why I'm a Liberal and Other Conservative Ideas

A beautifully written book that gives a glimpse into heaven, gives courage to doubters and awe to believers.

In this beautiful and well-written book, Colton, a four-year-old boy, experienced a near-death experience (NDE) while under anesthesia. As a scientist, I have studied over 1600 cases of NDE and I can rightly state that typical NDEs can occur in anesthetized children at a very early age. But even with this experience of NDE, I believe that Colton's case is dramatic, exceptional, and inspiring to Christians around the world.

Geoffrey Long,

MD, Founder of the NDE Research Foundation, Author of The Evidence for Afterlife: The Science of NDE

Heaven Is Real is a wonderful book. It once again confirms how important faith is in our life - it is important for both children and adults.

Timothy P. O'Holleran,

M.D.

Some stories just can't be told. They live on their own. The book you are holding in your hands is one such story. But she will not stay with you for long; it seethes and bubbles, and in the course of your conversations it will inevitably break out in search of those who have not yet heard of it. I know it will happen to you because it happened to me too.

Phil McCallum

Senior Preacher, Bothell Church, Evergreen Community, Washington

Like the parents of a child who experienced something amazing and inexplicable by earthly standards, I celebrate with this family and share their joy at the victory - the presentation and publication of this incomparable story.

I tell you truly, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus the Nazarene (Matt. 18:3)

Gratitude

In preparing Colton's story for publication, we were able to work not only with dedicated professionals, but also with considerate and genuinely caring people. Undoubtedly, their knowledge and experience made a great impression on Sonya and me, but we were even more captivated by their character and cordiality.

Phil McCallum, Joel Needler, Lynn Vincent, and Debbie Wickwier not only poured their lives into this book, but spiritually enriched our entire family. Without their incredible efforts and spiritual sensitivity, the book "Paradise exists in reality" would never have turned out to be so wonderful.

We offer a daily prayer of thanksgiving to God for bringing these gifted and talented people together to help us tell Colton's story. Each of them has become a real blessing for us.

Sonya and I consider it an incomparable honor and privilege to call them our friends.

Angels at Arby

Independence Day celebrations evoke patriotic parades, mouth-watering smells of grilled barbecue, sweet popcorn and a night sky lit up with flashes of light. But for my family, the last days of this holiday in 2003 were a big event for a completely different reason.

Sonia, my wife, and my kids and I planned to go to Sioux Falls, Dakota to visit Sonia's brother Steve and his family. And at the same time to look at Bennett, nephew, born two months ago. Plus, our kids, Cassie and Colton, have never seen a waterfall before. (Yes, yes, there are famous waterfalls in Sioux Falls, which are called Sioux Falls.) But this is not even the main thing. The main thing is that since that memorable trip to the city of Greeley, Colorado, which we undertook in March, which turned into a terrible nightmare for our entire family, we left our hometown of Imperial, Nebraska for the first time for a long time.

To be honest, during the last trip, one of our children almost died. You can call it crazy, but at that time we were possessed by some vague fears and forebodings, and sometimes it came to the point that we simply did not want to go anywhere. As the pastor of the local church, I do not believe in superstition, and I myself am not superstitious, but some supernatural part of my being that was beyond my control told me that as long as we were under the home roof and connected to our home, we were safe. But in the end, reason—and an irresistible desire to see Bennett, the nicest kid in the world, according to Steve's words—took over. So we stuffed our Ford Expedition SUV with our personal belongings and whatever else we needed to last a week, and got ready to head north.

Sonya and I agreed that it was best to drive at night, because although we fasten the four-year-old Colton to the seat with a seat belt, but this is always done against his will ("I'm a big boy, dad!" - He usually resents), and so at least there is hope that most of the way he will just sleep. So it was about 9:00 p.m. when I pulled my Ford out of our parking lot, drove past my pastor, Crossroads Wesleyan Church, and pulled onto Highway 61.

A clear, cloudless night stretched over the plains; in the dark velvet sky the crescent of the moon shone brightly. Imperial is a small farming town tucked into the northern border of Nebraska. With its two hundred souls and no road lights at all, it was one of those towns where there are more churches than banks, and where at lunchtime the farmers (shod, as always, in Wolverine boots, in caps from John Dear and with pincers hanging from the belt, intended for repairing hedges), returning from the fields, habitually flocked and settled in the local family cafe. So our children, six-year-old Cassie and four-year-old Colton, were burning with impatience to quickly get to the “big city” of Sioux Falls to see their newborn cousin.

Ninety miles from the town of North Platte, children chatted and played, and Colton, posing as a superhero who fought global battles to match his own, managed to save the world from destruction seven times in this time. It wasn't even ten when we drove into this town of 24,000 whose greatest claim to fame is that the town was the birthplace of the most famous cowboy and showman in the Wild West, Buffalo Bill Cody. North Platte is the last point of civilization (or at least the last civilized stop available to us) that we passed that evening before rushing northwest through vast expanses of cornfields, where there is nothing but fallow deer, pheasants and rare farm houses. Therefore, we planned ahead of time to make a stop here to fill the gas tank, and along with our own stomachs.

Heaven is real! The Amazing Story of a Little Boy's Journey to Heaven and Back Lynn Vincent, Todd Burpo

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Title: Heaven is Real! The Amazing Story of a Little Boy's Journey to Heaven and Back
Author: Lynn Vincent, Todd Burpo
Year: 2010
Genre: Foreign esoteric and religious literature, Religion: other

About "Heaven Is Real! The Amazing Story of a Little Boy's Journey to Heaven and Back By Lynn Vincent, Todd Burpo

What awaits us after death? Will there be a void there, or a new world more beautiful than ours? Will we be happy there, who will we meet, and what will happen after we get there? All these questions already have answers from people who, for one reason or another, found themselves on the verge of death, left our world for a moment and saw out of the corner of their eye what awaits each of us beyond the line.

Lynn Vincent and Todd Burpo book Heaven is Real! The Amazing Story of a Little Boy's Journey to Heaven and Back" is the story of a child about what he saw when he left our world.

Colton was only four years old when he needed an urgent and complex operation. Something went wrong and the child died for a while. During the journey of his soul, he visited a place that everyone calls Paradise. He told his amazing story about what exactly happened to him there. There is solid evidence to support the boy's words. So, for example, the baby could not know that his parents had an unborn girl whom Colton met in heaven.

Colton's father is a church minister in the city where the family lives. That is, the whole family believes in the Almighty. But no one could even imagine that their child would be able to reveal to the world his amazing story about what is happening there in Heaven.

Colton himself, as described in the book “Heaven is real! The Astonishing Story of a Little Boy's Journey to Heaven and Back, by Lynn Vincent and Todd Burpo, tells how angels sang songs to him. There is even humor here, because the boy asked them to sing a modern song, but the angels refused. They looked like his grandfather, but they weren't. They sang only because the child was afraid, and after the songs he calmed down. Also, Colton talked about the fact that the angels sang at the request of Jesus, who had a child and sat on his lap.

Moreover, the whole story of Colton is like moving a child from the ward to Heaven and back. That is, the kid talked about angels, but at the same time he clearly remembers what happened at that time in the operating room. According to him, dad was praying at that time, and mom was calling someone on the phone. And there are a lot of such details and amazing coincidences in the book by Lynn Vincent and Todd Burpo.

To believe or not in this story is up to each reader. Of course, there are skeptics who can find a lot of inconsistencies. Besides, it's just a book, and you can write whatever you want in it. But there are those who just want to believe in something bright and beautiful, that after death another world awaits us, where we will meet our dead relatives and become truly happy.

The book Heaven is Real! The Astonishing Story of a Little Boy's Journey to Heaven and Back By Lynn Vincent and Todd Burpo is simply the astonishing story of a boy who managed to see what many of us can only guess. This is a real journey to Paradise, where there are Angels who sing songs and calm everyone who is worried and afraid. Everyone should read this story, if only because it is written in a very exciting and unusual way. The expressions of the baby himself are very adult and there is no reason not to believe him.

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Todd Burpo, Lynn Vincent

Heaven is for Real: A Little Boy's Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back

© 2010 by Todd Burpo

© AST Publishing House, 2015

© 2010 by Todd Burpo

© Translation into Russian, Vik Sparov, 2015

© AST Publishing House, 2015

God as a creator deserves all credit! And the facts presented in this book confirm this truth in a new light. I've known Colton since birth. Already in early childhood, he was characterized by a keen interest and desire for the spiritual. I remember at the age of about three, sitting on my lap, he looked me straight in the eyes and asked if I wanted to go to heaven when I died. Then he said to me, "You must always have Jesus in your heart." I warmly recommend this book to everyone: it gives a new perspective on the reality of God, who is often hidden and invisible, but at the right time always comes to the rescue.

Phil Harris,

Superintendent of Wesleyan Churches, Colorado-Nebraska District

Colton's story could have become part of the New Testament, but God in the 21st century chose to speak to us in the person of a child who, with his sinless eyes, saw and revealed some of the secrets of the heavenly abode. The book captures attention, and the truth strikes the imagination, causing a thirst to learn as much as possible.

Jo Ann Lyon,

chief steward of the Wesleyan Church

The Bible describes paradise as the dwelling place of God. This is a real place that will one day become an eternal abode for all who have given themselves to God. In this book, Todd Burpo talks about his son's experience when he had an operation to remove an acute appendicitis. This is an honest, sincere and touching story that brings hope to the hearts of all those who believe in eternal salvation.

Robert Morris,

pastor of Gateway Church, Southlake, Texas

There are many NDE stories, but I haven't read them; I didn’t read it simply because I didn’t know if the author could be trusted. But as soon as I read the title of this book on the cover, I opened it and, imagine, then I could no longer close it. Why? Yes, because I know the author of the book well and believe him. Todd Burpo gives us a wonderful gift: he and his son lift the veil over eternity, giving us a sneak peek at what lies beyond.

Everett Piper,

president of Wesleyan University, Oklahoma, author of Why I'm a Liberal and Other Conservative Ideas

A beautifully written book that gives a glimpse into heaven, gives courage to doubters and awe to believers.

In this beautiful and well-written book, Colton, a four-year-old boy, experienced a near-death experience (NDE) while under anesthesia. As a scientist, I have studied over 1600 cases of NDE and I can rightly state that typical NDEs can occur in anesthetized children at a very early age. But even with this experience of NDE, I believe that Colton's case is dramatic, exceptional, and inspiring to Christians around the world.

Geoffrey Long,

MD, Founder of the NDE Research Foundation, Author of The Evidence for Afterlife: The Science of NDE

Heaven Is Real is a wonderful book. It once again confirms how important faith is in our life - it is important for both children and adults.

Timothy P. O'Holleran,

M.D.

Some stories just can't be told. They live on their own. The book you are holding in your hands is one such story. But she will not stay with you for long; it seethes and bubbles, and in the course of your conversations it will inevitably break out in search of those who have not yet heard of it. I know it will happen to you because it happened to me too.

Phil McCallum

Senior Preacher, Bothell Church, Evergreen Community, Washington

Like the parents of a child who experienced something amazing and inexplicable by earthly standards, I celebrate with this family and share their joy at the victory - the presentation and publication of this incomparable story.

I tell you truly, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus the Nazarene (Matt. 18:3)

Gratitude

In preparing Colton's story for publication, we were able to work not only with dedicated professionals, but also with considerate and genuinely caring people. Undoubtedly, their knowledge and experience made a great impression on Sonya and me, but we were even more captivated by their character and cordiality.

Phil McCallum, Joel Needler, Lynn Vincent, and Debbie Wickwier not only poured their lives into this book, but spiritually enriched our entire family. Without their incredible efforts and spiritual sensitivity, the book "Paradise exists in reality" would never have turned out to be so wonderful.

We offer a daily prayer of thanksgiving to God for bringing these gifted and talented people together to help us tell Colton's story. Each of them has become a real blessing for us.

Sonya and I consider it an incomparable honor and privilege to call them our friends.

Prologue
Angels at Arby

Independence Day celebrations evoke patriotic parades, mouth-watering smells of grilled barbecue, sweet popcorn and a night sky lit up with flashes of light. But for my family, the last days of this holiday in 2003 were a big event for a completely different reason.

Sonia, my wife, and my kids and I planned to go to Sioux Falls, Dakota to visit Sonia's brother Steve and his family. And at the same time to look at Bennett, nephew, born two months ago. Plus, our kids, Cassie and Colton, have never seen a waterfall before. (Yes, yes, there are famous waterfalls in Sioux Falls, which are called Sioux Falls.) But this is not even the main thing. The main thing is that since that memorable trip to the city of Greeley, Colorado, which we undertook in March, which turned into a terrible nightmare for our entire family, we left our hometown of Imperial, Nebraska for the first time for a long time.

To be honest, during the last trip, one of our children almost died. You can call it crazy, but at that time we were possessed by some vague fears and forebodings, and sometimes it came to the point that we simply did not want to go anywhere. As the pastor of the local church, I do not believe in superstition, and I myself am not superstitious, but some supernatural part of my being that was beyond my control told me that as long as we were under the home roof and connected to our home, we were safe. But in the end, reason—and an irresistible desire to see Bennett, the nicest kid in the world, according to Steve's words—took over. So we stuffed our Ford Expedition SUV with our personal belongings and whatever else we needed to last a week, and got ready to head north.

Sonya and I agreed that it was best to drive at night, because although we fasten the four-year-old Colton to the seat with a seat belt, but this is always done against his will ("I'm a big boy, dad!" - He usually resents), and so at least there is hope that most of the way he will just sleep. So it was about 9:00 p.m. when I pulled my Ford out of our parking lot, drove past my pastor, Crossroads Wesleyan Church, and pulled onto Highway 61.

A clear, cloudless night stretched over the plains; in the dark velvet sky the crescent of the moon shone brightly. Imperial is a small farming town tucked into the northern border of Nebraska. With its two hundred souls and no road lights at all, it was one of those towns where there are more churches than banks, and where at lunchtime the farmers (shod, as always, in Wolverine boots, in caps from John Dear and with pincers hanging from the belt, intended for repairing hedges), returning from the fields, habitually flocked and settled in the local family cafe. So our children, six-year-old Cassie and four-year-old Colton, were burning with impatience to quickly get to the “big city” of Sioux Falls to see their newborn cousin.

Ninety miles from the town of North Platte, children chatted and played, and Colton, posing as a superhero who fought global battles to match his own, managed to save the world from destruction seven times in this time. It wasn't even ten when we drove into this town of 24,000 whose greatest claim to fame is that the town was the birthplace of the most famous cowboy and showman in the Wild West, Buffalo Bill Cody. North Platte is the last point of civilization (or at least the last civilized stop available to us) that we passed that evening before rushing northwest through vast expanses of cornfields, where there is nothing but fallow deer, pheasants and rare farm houses. Therefore, we planned ahead of time to make a stop here to fill the gas tank, and along with our own stomachs.

After refueling at a gas station in Sinclair, we drove down Jeffers Street, and as I passed the traffic light, I suddenly remembered that if we had turned left, we would eventually have reached the Regional Medical Center, the same one where we spent in March was fifteen nightmarish days, most of them on their knees praying to God to save Colton's life. God heard our prayers, but Sonya and I have since joked bitterly about this, that this difficult experience cost us many years of life.

Sometimes laughter is the best way to let go of life's tough moments, so as I rounded the corner, I decided to tease Colton a little.

"Hey, Colton," I said, "if we turn right here, we'll end up in the hospital again." Do you want to go back to the hospital?

He laughed in the dark.

No, dad, I don't! Better take Cassie. She definitely wants to go to the hospital!

His sister (she was sitting next to him) also laughed:

- Well, I do not! I don't want to go there either!

Sonya from the passenger seat turned to her son, whose child seat was located just behind mine. I didn't see him, but I vividly imagined his short crew cut and blue eyes that shone in the dark.

“Colton, do you remember the hospital?” Sonya asked.

“Yes, Mom, I remember,” he replied. “It was there that the angels sang to me.

Time inside the machine seemed to stop. Sonya and I looked at each other, exchanging a silent question: "He did he really say that, or did I hear it?”

Sonya leaned towards me and whispered:

“Did he tell you about angels before?”

I shook my head.

- And you?

She shook too.

I turned to Arbi's, pulled into the parking lot, and turned off the engine. The white light of a street lamp seeped in from the street through the windows of the car. Somehow I turned around in my seat and turned to face Colton. I remember at that moment I was struck by how small and childishly fragile he was. It was still a very small boy, in whose voice one could clearly hear genuine (and sometimes baffling) sincere innocence. If you are a parent yourself, you will understand what I mean: this is the age when a child, pointing a finger at a pregnant woman, can (very loudly) ask: “Daddy, why is this aunt so fat?” Colton was still in that rather limited space of life where neither tact nor perfidy was known to him. All these thoughts flashed through my mind as I tried to figure out how to respond to my four-year-old son's claim that angels sang songs to him. Finally I made up my mind.

“Colton, did the angels sing to you while you were in the hospital?” Is that what you said?

He nodded his head quickly.

What did they sing to you?

Colton rolled his eyes, slanting them slightly to the right, his characteristic reminiscence posture.

“Well, they sang “Jesus Loves Me” and “Jesus Fought for Jericho,” he replied seriously. - I asked them to sing “We will stir you up”, but they did not want to.

Cassie giggled softly, and I noticed that Colton's answers sound quite casual and prosaic, as a matter of course, and he answers quickly, without a hint of confusion.

Sonya and I exchanged glances again, as if to say, “What's going on? Did he imagine it or dream it?

And there was another unspoken doubt: “How are we supposed to react to this?”

And then a completely natural question arose in my head.

“Colton, what did those angels look like?” I asked my son.

He laughed happily, as if remembering something.

Well, one of them looked like Dennis's grandfather, although it wasn't him because the grandfather wears glasses.

Then he immediately became serious.

“Daddy, it was Jesus who told the angels to sing to me, because I was very afraid. And I got better.

Jesus?

I looked at Sonya again: she was sitting with her mouth open. I turned back to Colton.

Was Jesus there?

My son nodded and replied as if it were an event no more remarkable than the appearance of a ladybug in our yard:

Yes, Jesus was there.

Where exactly was Jesus?

Colton looked me straight in the eyes.

“I sat on His lap.

If conversations, like trains, had stopcocks, one of them would be activated right now. Speechless in amazement, Sonya and I looked at each other, exchanging another silent message: "We should have a serious talk about this."

We got out of the car and the whole family went to Arbi, from where we left a few minutes later with a bag full of food. On the way, Sonya and I managed to exchange a few remarks in a half-whisper.

“Do you really think he saw angels?”

- BUT Jesus?!

- Right, I don't know.

- Maybe it was a dream?

- I do not know. He speaks very confidently.

As we got into the car and Sonia distributed the roast beef sandwiches and potato chips to everyone, I suddenly had another question.

“Colton, where were you when you saw Jesus?”

He looked at me like he was asking, "Didn't we just talk about this?"

In the hospital, where else! Well, when Dr. O'Holleran dealt with me.

“Dr. O’Holleran took care of you twice, remember? I asked. Colton had emergency appendicitis surgery at the hospital, then bowel cleansing surgery, and then we took Colton one more time to have his keloids removed, but it wasn't at the hospital anymore, it was at Dr. O'Holleran's clinic. Are you sure it happened in the hospital?

Colton nodded.

Yes, in the hospital. When I was with Jesus, you were praying and your mother was talking on the phone.

There was no doubt about it: it was a hospital. But God! How does he know where we were then?

“Colton, but you were in the operating room,” I said. How did you know what we were doing?

“I saw you,” Colton said simply and convincingly. “I came out of my body, looked down and saw the doctor taking care of my body. I saw you and mom. You were alone in a small room and prayed, and your mother was in another room, also praying and talking on the phone.

These words of Colton touched me to the core. Sonya looked at me with wide eyes (I have never seen such wide eyes in her eyes), but she did not say anything - she simply stared and nibbled a sandwich with an absent look.

I couldn't bear more at that moment. Silently, I started the engine, pulled the Ford out onto the highway, and headed for North Dakota. On either side of the I-80 we were speeding along were endless pastures, dotted here and there with ponds and duck pools that gleamed silver in the moonlight. It was very late, and soon the children, as we had foreseen, fell asleep peacefully.

Looking at the road that stretched before me, I recalled with amazement what I had just heard. Our little son told something absolutely incredible - and confirmed it with credible information, and one that he simply could not know. We did not tell him what we were doing and what we were doing while he lay in the operating room, being in a state of anesthesia, that is, logically, unconscious.

I asked myself over and over: How did he know about it? But by the time we crossed the South Dakota state line, I had a completely different question on my mind: Could this really happen?»

Chapter 1
Insectarium

Our family trip, which eventually turned into a nightmare, was intended to be a holiday trip. I myself, in early March 2003, was to travel to Greeley, Colorado, on business to attend a meeting of representatives of the Wesleyan District Council of Pastors. And it all started in August 2002; then our family got pretty bad, because we embarked on a thorny path full of misfortunes and failures: seven months of incessant injuries and illnesses, including a broken leg, two operations and suspected cancer, and all this multiplied by financial difficulties; our bank account was so depleted that when receipts and payment notices came in the mail, I could almost hear the sucking sounds they made. Fortunately, these difficulties did not affect my modest pastor's salary, but they thoroughly undermined our main financial stronghold, our private business - the ground garage doors that we owned. And our medical problems also cost us a lot of money.

But by February, the situation seemed to have radically changed for the better: we recovered and stood on our feet. And since I still had to go, we decided to turn the business trip into a significant event, a kind of turning point in our family life - a little rest, fun, refreshment of mind and soul, and with new hope to move on with life.

Sonya learned from someone about a very nice place, very popular with children. It was outside Denver and was called the Butterfly Pavilion. Widely advertised as a "zoo for invertebrates", the Butterfly Pavilion opened in 1995 as a teaching and learning center designed to educate people about the wonders of the world of insects and sea creatures of the sort that normally inhabit the tidal waves and salt lakes that remain after the tide. In those days, at the entrance to the zoo, visitors were greeted by a huge colored metal sculpture of a praying mantis in a prayer pose. But in 2003, this giant insect was no longer on its usual pedestal, and the pavilion's squat brick building, located about a fifteen-minute drive from downtown Denver, also did not beckon with a colorful slogan: “Attention! Kids, this is for you! But inside the children, and especially children of the age of Colton and Cassie, the same mysterious world of miracles awaited.

The first room we entered had the funny name "Crawl, crawl, and you'll find it." It was an insectarium - a room filled with terrariums, where all kinds of creeping and crawling creatures were placed, from beetles and cockroaches to spiders. One structure, the Tarantula Tower, attracted Cassie and Colton like a magnet. This terrarium tower was, exactly as advertised, a glass-protected natural habitat for all sorts of hairy, thick- and thin-legged spiders that either captivate you with their appearance or make you shiver.

Cassie and Colton took turns climbing a three-step ladder to see the inhabitants of the upper floors of this "tower". In one terrarium, a hairy Mexican white tarantula occupied a corner, whose external skeleton was described in the accompanying text as "painted in a pleasant pale color." Another terrarium contained a red and black tarantula native to India. One of the most feared-looking inhabitants of this reserve was the “skeleton” tarantula, so named because its hind legs were divided into segments by white stripes, so that the spider itself looked like a skeleton on an x-ray. Later, we learned that this tarantula is special and has a rebellious spirit of a tramp: once he somehow managed to get out of his prison, invaded a neighboring cage and ate his neighbor for dinner.

Rising up in his chair to get a better look at what this rebellious tarantula looked like, Colton glanced at me and smiled, and this smile really warmed my heart. I felt my neck muscles relax, and somewhere inside me, it was as if some kind of valve suddenly opened, releasing excess tension, the emotional equivalent of a long inhalation and exhalation. For the first time in all these months, I suddenly felt immensely happy to be with my family.

- Wow! Look over here! Cassie exclaimed, pointing to one of the terrariums. Slightly awkward and lanky, my six-year-old daughter was surprisingly lively and agile, a trait she inherited from her mother. Cassie pointed to a sign that said, “Goliath bird-eater. Females reach a length of more than eleven inches.

The specimen in front of us was only six inches long, but it was massive and thick, like Colton's wrist. He stared through the glass with fixed and wide eyes. I looked around and saw Sonya wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Apparently, one of the attendants also saw this expression on Sonya's face, as he immediately came up and made a short speech in defense of the tarantula.

“The goliath is from South America,” he said in a friendly and slightly instructive tone, in which one could clearly hear: “They are not so disgusting as you think.” – Tarantulas from North and South America are very docile and docile. They can be safely picked up ... That's how it is. - And he pointed to the second attendant: he held a small tarantula in the palm of his hand, and children crowded around, trying to get a closer look at him.

There was some noise at the opposite end of the room, and Cassie immediately rushed there to see what it was, followed by Colton and Sonya and I. In a corner where what looked like a bamboo hut had been erected, the caretaker displayed the undisputed star of the insectarium, a spider named Rosie, a furry tarantula from South America whose body was covered with pink hairs. Rosie's body was the size of a plum, and her pencil-thick legs were six inches long. But the most remarkable thing here, from the point of view of the children, was this: if you are not afraid, take Rosie in your hand and hold her for at least a few seconds, you will receive an award from the caretaker - a sticker.

Well, if you have small children, then you already know that a good sticker is a fortune: for children, it is sometimes more expensive than a handful of coins. And this sticker was really special: white, with a tarantula printed on a yellow background and the inscription: “I kept (a) Rosie!”

It was not just some kind of sticker, but a real badge of valor!

Cassie stepped close to the caretaker and bent over his hand to get a good look at Rosie. Colton looked at me; his blue eyes were wide open.

“Daddy, can I get a sticker?”

“You have to take Rosie in your hand for that, mate.

Already at this age, Colton had a rather unusual manner of speech: he pronounced the words half seriously, half jokingly and suddenly held his breath, as if waiting for a miracle. He was a smart, intelligent little boy who perceived the world in black and white. One seemed to him cheerful (Lego constructor), and the other boring (Barbie). He either loved food (steaks) or hated it (green beans). His boys were divided into good and bad, and his favorite toys were figures of good superheroes who fought for justice: Spider-Man, Batman and Buzz Lightyear. They meant a lot to Colton. He carried them with him everywhere he went. Therefore, wherever he was - in the back seat of an SUV, in a waiting room or on the floor of a church - he imagined and played skits in which these honest, nice guys saved the world. They saved, of course, with the help of swords - Colton's favorite weapon, the most effective, in his opinion, for defeating evil. And at home, he himself became such a superhero. Often, when I came home, I saw Colton armed to the teeth: two swords hung on a belt from both sides and a sword was in each hand.

“I play Zorro, dad!” Wanna play with me?

Now Colton's gaze was on the spider in the caretaker's palm, and it seemed to me that he would be glad if he had a sword in his hand at that moment - at least as a moral support. I tried to imagine what a spider looks like to a little boy who is less than four feet tall. It must be huge. My son was a 100% boy - inconsistent and impulsive, who, however, stumbled upon ants, bugs or other crawling creatures, forgot everything in the world. True, all these creatures were relatively small in size, even compared to the size of his face, and they definitely did not have such long hair as his.

Cassie straightened up and smiled at Sonya.

“Mom, can I hold Rosie?”

"All right," Sonya said, "just wait your turn."

Cassie obediently got in line; There were two other guys in front of her. Colton watched without stopping as first the boy and then the girl took a huge spider in their hand and, holding it for several seconds, received the coveted sticker as a reward from the caretaker. Very soon, the moment of truth arrived for Cassie, too. Colton, without taking his eyes off his sister, clung to my legs, but then, apparently trying to show that he was not at all afraid, he moved a little to the side. Cassie held out her hand, and we saw how Rosie, moving one leg after another, quickly ran across the bridge formed by touching human palms, from the caretaker's hand to Cassie's small palm, and then back.

“You did well,” said the caretaker. - Well done!

He tore off a yellow and white sticker from a large roll and handed it to Cassie.

Sonya and I clapped our hands and let out a cry of jubilation.

This clearly did not add to Colton's good mood, not only because his sister surpassed him with her courage, but also because he was left without a sticker. He looked longingly at Cassie's prize, then at Rosie, and I saw him trying to overcome his fear. Finally he pursed his lips, looked away from Rosie, and turned to me.

“I don’t want to take this spider,” he said.

“Good,” I replied. - I got tired, so tired.

- Can I get a sticker?

- Alas! To do this, take a spider in your hand. Cassie took it. You can take it too if you want. Do you want to hold? Even for a second?

Colton looked at the spider, then at his sister, and I saw devils play in his eyes. Cassie did it! And the spider didn't bite her!

Finally, he shook his head decisively.

No, I don't want to keep. But get sticker want!

At that moment, Colton reminded me of the baby he was at the age of two months - timid and shy, and this despite the fact that he stood firmly on his feet and knew what he wanted.

“The only way to get a sticker is to take Rosie in your hand,” Sonya said. Are you sure you don't want this?

Instead of answering, Colton grabbed his mother's hand and began to pull her away from the caretaker.

– No, I want to see a starfish.

- Are you sure? Sonya asked.

Nodding his head frantically, Colton quickly made his way to the exit.