He needs to be closer

A man hid in an alley, trying to sleep between a trashcan and the wall of a building. He ignored the scuttle of rats and the stink of the garbage as best he could. It was important that no one find him; if they found him, he would go to prison.

It was evening, but the summer light filtered into his alley, casting shadows that loomed over him. He had tried to sleep; when the light was gone, he would go, traveling to another hiding place in the dark.

Trying to occupy himself, he picked up the newspaper that had been thrown into the trashcan. It was yesterday’s news, but the man wasn’t choosy. The headline on the front page read, “Local Pastor Killed.”

If you cannot read the newspaper article, click here for a text version. The article is part of the story.

The man threw the newspaper back into the trash can in disgust. He was the “unknown assailant.”


Three years later, the same man lay in a hospital bed in a different city, far from where he had once killed a man. He had cancer, and he knew that he would soon die. ‘A fitting end to a horrible life,’ he thought to himself. One wrist was handcuffed to the bed railing, a testament to the fact that the police had, in fact, apprehended their suspect.

The nurse, who stood beside his bed, changing his IV bag, asked him, “How are you feeling this evening?”

“Half dead,” he said.

She checked his pulse and made notes in his chart. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“No. Nothing.”

She turned to leave, and then stopped on her way out the door. Coming back to the bed, she said, “He loves you still, you know. Even you.”

He saw the small gold cross she wore, dangling from a tiny chain around her neck. “Not me.”

She took hold of his wrist again, and leaned toward him, intent to deliver a message that she wasn’t sure he would even hear. “Yes, you – You are forgiven for what you have done, and He loves you.” The man shook his head, saying nothing. The nurse left, unsure why she had even spoken of God to the man.

The man didn’t sleep that night. His body was filled with pain. He kept thinking about what the nurse had said. He remembered that his grandmother had always told him that God loved him; he had believed her then, but no longer did. How could it be possible that God could love him? It wasn’t. Was it?

He and God wrestled through the night, and in the morning, when a different nurse came in to check on him, she found that he had died.



The man stood in the entrance of a huge, bright space. Inside was warmth, incredible golden light and joy. He took one step in, unable to stop himself, but went no further.

Charles Michaels, the man he had killed, approached him. “Al,” he said, “you need to get closer.”

“I don’t deserve to be any closer than this. I’ll be fine here.”

Charles shook his head, smiled, and draped an arm around Al’s shoulders. “Closer,” he said.

Other people stood in the space, facing its center. When they saw who was coming, they stepped aside, making room, making a path for Al to travel. Al and Charles worked their way closer, Al always reluctant, Charles always insistent. The people he passed could be heard to say, “Closer. He needs to be closer.”

Finally, he was standing on the front row of heaven, face to face with God. He sank to his knees, and mumbled, “I don’t deserve to be here. I shouldn’t be here at all, but I can stay in the back. All of these other people should have this honor.”

God said, “You missed knowing me in your life. We only had a few hours together. All of these people know that you need to be close to me now.”

This image of heaven was inspired by something that Dr.Charles Echols once told me. He believed that in heaven, the saints surrounding God would step back, so that those who had not known Him for very long could approach. Those who had lived long with the knowledge of God’s grace would step away from God to allow those new to God to learn of His light, for they would need to be closer.