Four Glimpses of Heaven

By Charles Odimayo

Four Glimpses of Heaven: A Young Boy's Remarkable Saga and Battle to Return Home from a Trip to Heaven.

Truly there is life after death. Not once, not twice, but four times God took Charles on awe-invoking journeys to Heaven. Four Glimpses of Heaven exposed what happens to the human soul at the very point of death and how the spirit behaves in transition when it leaves the body. Charles’ experiences of transition demystified the dreadful powers attributed to death and actualized instances of the human soul immediately it arrives in the afterlife.

When little boy Charles climbed unto a ladder that came down from the sky in a dream, he sets in motion chain of events extending far into the future. While running home on errands for his father he suddenly stumbled and fell. He thought he got up but instead he found himself in the company of unfamiliar faces in Heaven. His body fell into a coma and remains limber and unresponsive. Local doctors tried for more than seventeen terrifying hours and gave Charles up for dead but his mother held out for hope. Unwilling to let go, she threatened her own suicide (spoiler alert) while the family began to contemplate a quiet burial. Her gamble paid off, Charles demanded to go home. The saga of his battle with an angel to return to his mother is stunning, He finally took a deep unassisted breath and resurfaced amongst the living. What they didn’t expect was the story of angels visiting their little boy at nights and the eventual details of his trip to Heaven. He astonished his parents with extraordinary details about a different world he called “Heaven” Charles returned to earth but life was never the same. He has experienced the undeniable glories, eternal harmony and true peace of heaven. In addition to the revelation about his father’s life on earth, with the unassuming innocence of a child, he relayed a message from his sister, described exact physical features of long-departed relatives, Jesus, the angels, and his rendezvous with the tree of life, the Crystal River and a church in Heaven.

This is a compelling thriller that will orientate man in acceptance of death as just a transitional vehicle to a higher consciousness in continuation of life. And if you are still in doubt of life in Paradise, grip your soul as every new chapter opens the veil of eternity wider and presented more moving revelation than the previous.

Four Glimpses of Heaven is more than a mere hint of a world that awaits us in the life everlasting. It's a concrete, personal account of a boy who journeyed to Heaven multiple times —a fluff less blunt narrative— making it a must read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles Odimayo
• Release date: Feb 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311253262

Charles Odimayo

Charles is serial Entrepreneur engaged in different industries. He has several years of solid experience managing and operating a number of businesses. Although engineering studies are his tools and also his passion, Charles is a highly spiritual person and he has a special place in his heart for God and Spiritual matters. He loves to share his knowledge of Heaven and his encounters with angels in order to help improve spiritual wisdom in all.Charles hailed from well-knitted multiple ancestors of royals from both sides of his family. Born in tradition-dominated era to the Orunbemekun Royal family of Irele Kingdom, Southwest Nigeria; Charles is a Crown-Prince and second to the Odimayo/Olofun throne.Charles relocated to United States of America in 1980. He traveled through North America, parts of Europe & Africa for nearly three decades as the Founder and CEO of Compůtöss Technologies, Mayos’ Inc., O.V.I. Corporation, owner and chief editor of African Business Magazine based in Delaware. As a young boy in 1975, he had an encounter with the Spirit of God which took him on four visits to Heaven and frequent visitation from various entities he called Angels. And for a span of thirty-three years, the little boy steadily emerged into a deeply Spiritual man.Imbued on every page of his books are Charles' astounding humor and compassion for God. Four Glimpses of Heaven, The Acts of Angels and Summoned are glorious books that bear all the marks of classics.

Book preview

FOUR GLIMPSES OF HEAVEN

My Visits to the City of God

Charles Oluwole Odimayo

Contents

Faces in the Cloud

In Search of God

Prologue

Prelude to visits

Ladder from Heaven

Mansion of Souls: 1st visit

The Exit door to Earth

The Visitors: Entities from another world

The Tree by the Crystal River: 2nd visit

Talking Clock

The Church in Heaven: 3rd visit

Fruit of Obedience

Transformation of Souls

Importance of Prayer

In Retrospect

Conclusion

Acknowledgements

Endnotes: Free chapter from Summoned

Dear Reader: A letter to my readers

The Author

About the Book

Readers’ comments

Other titles by Charles

FOUR GLIMPSES OF HEAVEN

Faces in the Cloud

On the first of July 2012, I sat in my living room in San Antonio, Texas after searching the internet all day without success for a picture I could use for the cover of this book. In frustration, I said aloud, God where will I find a picture for this book cover? [That was my exact statement at 6 PM]. Instantly I heard a voice that said: look at the clouds. Curiously, I walked to my balcony and saw a dark stormy cloud slowly floating across the sky. I aimed to take a picture of the little sun rays that peeped through it. I engaged my phone camera, took three snapshots of the storm cloud (left, center, right side). I thought nothing of it and went about life as usual. To my surprise when it was downloaded to my computer two days later, there were many formations of human faces in the cloud pictures which I later captioned as Cloud of Witnesses. And that is the cover you see today on Four Glimpses of Heaven raw, un-edited and un-manipulated. - Divinely Inspired and pure. It is certain that God is behind all these strange occurrences?

A True Story

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Copyright

Edition, License Notes

FOUR GLIMPSES OF HEAVEN.

Copyright © 2012 by Charles Odimayo. Third (the full account) Edition.

All rights reserved under the United States and International Copyright laws. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted a non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. The book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. No Part of the content may be transmitted, reproduced, reverse engineered, decompiled, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author and the publisher of this e-book.

Four Glimpses of Heaven is available in print at most online retailers.

All Scripture quotations are from the New King James and Revised Standard Versions of the Bible, except otherwise stated.

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IN SEARCH OF GOD

You will seek me, and find me when you seek me with all your heart. You will find me, declares the LORD. . . . - Jeremiah 29:13-14.

I was born into Christianity and have remained in the faith most of my life. So I’ll speak from this background, and my experience might have significantly reflected on that measure. I don't profess to speak for anyone else nor do I represent any organization, group or church. As an individual, you will know the truth when you read, see or hear it, the same way it happened to me. If you are one of those still searching, I pray that your search for the truth will be fruitful in your sincere spiritual pursuits for knowledge, balance and personal advancement.

My search for God started from my early childhood up to my fourth visit to heaven. At a very young age, I found it difficult to accept some Bible events on the face value and was not satisfied with Religious Knowledge teachers’ unsubstantiated answers. I can’t accurately tell you how it all started, but it was as if I was born with an insatiable appetite for everything that has to do with God. Initially, I thought God lived in the church buildings, and whenever we were in church, I tried looking around to locate Him.

Attendance at the children Sunday school was compulsory, but at times I sat at my father’s feet across from the choir every Sunday at the Methodist church in Ode-Irele (A city in Southwestern Nigeria). I much anticipated that God would somehow emerge from one of the rooms behind the pulpit as did the Evangelist at the beginning of each service. I often wondered those days and asked aloud, could it be that God is busy and couldn’t spare a moment for all the people that are calling him. Why won’t God come out to acknowledge these people that are desperately seeking his face? Why is he hiding when people are crying while singing, and wailing with tears streaming down their cheeks during prayers? Have they sinned so severely that God refused to hear them? At least that was what we were told, that God avoids sinners. I used to play questions in my mind like a ping-pong game. I remember asking our Bible teacher if the whole church sinned. His answer was as useless to me back then as it is today. We are all sinners he replied carelessly. I need a credible explanation, and I wouldn’t accept any of my mother’s excuses for God. If God is here and everywhere, I must find a way to see him. You can’t fault a child for believing what he was taught. It is the adults that should be blamed because we were always told in the children’s church to be quiet in the presence of God. The admonition aroused my curiosity, and I took it literarily that God was somewhere around waiting to appear at any moment of his choosing.

Being from a royal family, we do go to the palace to see our big daddy the king. And upon arrival, we would sometimes find him sitting on his throne with the town elders gathered in front of him. Other times he might be walking around or sitting on the small throne in the courtyard, and the Chiefs would be standing around as new arrivals fall flat on their bellies paying homage to the king. The Chiefs are not supposed to speak in his presence unless called upon to do so. The elders used to tell the kids and the women to stop making noise in the presence of the king. Once that statement is made, the women would quickly pull us away from the area to keep us from talking while the elders are in conference. Although big daddy sometimes stops the chiefs from driving us away, most of the time we were ushered off against our will. I hated those moments because I love to see the theatrical display and the comical view of grown gray-haired men rolling back and forth on the ground while they chant Second in command to God, long may you reign, long may you reign. Then shower him with accolades of his ancestral praises which would undoubtedly prompt the king to rise from his seat in an ostentatious display of grace, shake his hand ornaments and touch their heads one by one with his staff as they took turns crawling on their fours closer to him.

I was also told again and again in the church and primary school that God is the king of the whole universe, and I sincerely equated the two together. So, it was stuck in my head that someday somehow I will see God naturally as I saw big daddy (the king). I am still of the opinion that the adults should be appropriately reprimanded for not explaining the whole situation to the level of children’s understanding that you just don’t naturally see God.

I remember the days we used to waste away on Easter mornings in anticipation to see Jesus the begotten son of God. Easter those days was a big deal. People that were in the villages would come to town, and our uncles and cousins would arrive from far away cities days ahead of the celebration. We had no eggs to pick or bunnies to lay the eggs; it was all about Jesus the crucified Savior. In those days, you could cut the thickness of our excitement with a knife. Some families would slaughter cows, others goats, and chicken for the Easter feasts. The children would get new clothes, and we could not wait to hit the streets showing off our custom-made traditional attire. Easter was more important to the kids because everybody was in festive mood. It was like the children’s black Friday. It was the period we were sure to fill our clay piggy banks with pennies collected from our uncles, aunties and out-of-town relatives. The people are filled with excitement as the processions of believers from different churches in town gleefully march in long lines to meet Jesus. The echoes of Jesus has risen, he has risen would fill the air from different angles of our town. Church beckoning bells would saturate the atmosphere highlighting the urgency to congregate. We all wanted to be the first to see the resurrected Jesus. Children and adults alike would rush to fill the church pews. On early Easter mornings, you wouldn’t have argued that there was an evading army about to descend on the town in the way people were running to the churches. Kids that were dislodged from their family grips were left behind and scattered among the crowd along the paths. I still remembered getting lost in the crowd when the churches mixed miles before getting to the campgrounds of Saint Monica School. You could hear many names been shouted out in the open in attempts to reconnect as children cried out for their parents or brothers and sisters. My only saving grace those times was the wisdom just to follow the crowd and keep moving until I run into an adult that recognizes me. They usually guide me to my family on the ground or take me home to my parents at the end of the event.

I used to be tired, hungry, disappointed and disillusioned at Saint Monica School field. The adults duped children into believing that we must go to Galilee on resurrection morning where Jesus was supposed to appear in the sky before being taken to heaven. I believed it. The adults failed to properly explain to the children that Jesus had died more than two thousand years ago and that the event was a make-believe. There were times when Fred and I would be there from about 4:30 AM until around noon in anticipation to see Jesus. Sometimes we would run into our friends and forget about the purpose of Galilee. We would just enjoy the festivities; buy rice, cookies, toffee, sugary drinks and other goodies for fun until it would be time to go home.

My last visit to Saint Monica playground dubbed Galilee was so disappointing that I promised myself never to fall for such foolish trick again. That day, I kept my little eyes fixed on the sky with absolute determination to see Jesus, come rain or shine. I must see him today, I said to myself. I was resolute and unwavering in my thoughts. Yes, I was a little boy but no longer a child. I knew enough to recognize a human figure in the sky if there should be one. I wiggled my way to the front of the line by the stage set for preachers presiding over the occasion. I staked my spot and held it steady. Suddenly it was time. And when everybody was waiving and bidding Jesus bye-bye, I asked the two adults with me,

Where is He?

There, in the clouds! They said enthusiastically, pointing to the sky.

I was very short for my age and had to overcompensate for my size. I stretched my neck and strained my eyes to make sense of the odd-looking cloud formation. There was no human figure to be seen in the clouds. That set of clouds flew away and more slowly floated by, but no Jesus. Everybody kept waving joyfully. Bye, bye, Jesus. Bye, bye Jesus was the chorus they sang on cue. However, I saw nothing that resembles a human figure in the sky. The crowd broke into their usual happy songs,

Jerusalem, heaven is our home and Angels that carry Jesus away, please carry me with you. Angels that carry Jesus away, please carry me with you And on and on and on. They were sweet and joyful songs, and those were indeed the most significant days to be a Christian. However, it was strange that a whole lot of people could be duped this way and yet, they were happy about it. I didn’t then and haven’t up till now seen anyone or a group so foolishly faithful. When it comes to unsubstantiated beliefs, the grown-ups should be held to a higher standard for lying to their children about religion.

On that fictitious resurrection day, I made up my mind never to go and meet or see Jesus in that setting again. I told my mother that it was all a lie, but she argued on the contrary. Unfortunately, I had come to my conclusion before I got to the point of talking to my mother; and nothing could get me to trust anyone on the issue of a fake Jesus ascending into the clouds in a make-belief Galilee.

As disappointed as I was about Galilee, I did not relent on my effort or hunger to see God. I had already developed an innocent but sincere desire to know God. I was constantly on a personal quest to find Him, so I may fully comprehend the stories told in the Bible.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God: when shall I come and appear before God? (Psalm 42:2)

One Sunday I intentionally dodged my mother so that I could go into the choir dressing room. I entered the room to look around and was mistakenly locked in. Thank God, somebody heard me crying and opened the door to let me out. That day before I was let out, I searched everywhere in the room, but God was not there; only garments and cloak hangers. My second attempt came with a reckoning. On the Sunday of my choice, I slipped in behind the church Evangelist into his dressing room. While he was busy taking off his butterfly-like top-cape, I took a quick sweep of the room before I was discovered. Again, I didn’t see a throne that God could have sat on anywhere in the room. All I saw was two small wooden chairs and a table. Before I could make a definite determination that God does not live there, the Evangelist gently showed me out. I also got a good butt-spanking from my mom for misbehaving. Undeterred by my miss-steps, I continued my quiet search for God (at least in my mind).

Every Sunday when the church bell rang, I would ease myself into my favorite spot next to the choir stand facing the pulpit unless I was plucked off and thrown into the children church. I loved Sunday school but despised the children church because they collected our pennies for God and deprived me of the unimaginable desire to personally place my penny in His hands as I would have done at the palace with Big Daddy (the king). It was a surprise to me that as loud as the whole church sang His praises and prayed continually, God has refused to come out of His chambers in acknowledgment of their passionate pleas.

It was not like that at the palace. In the mornings when Uncle Gilbert blast the trumpet as the town-crier came calling; big daddy would come out into the open yard shaking his king’s decorative hand-ornaments (known as Irukere – made from white horsetails). He would lift his feet one at a time rocking back and forth in approval of the singing of his praises. At the king’s sighting, his ancestral praises would fall like torrential rain from the mouths of the women in concert with the town-crier. The king would bend and sway here and there in enjoyment. That was my mindset in my search for God. I expected Him to come out and move around the people in the church and place His hands on our heads like the king often do. Even our family masquerades that were hidden in the scary rooms within the palace always come out when the elders beat the drums and sang their praises. They would dance like unquenchable fires were burning inside their ghostly bellies. The elders would dance near them as the masquerades pay homage to the king and his chiefs. That, in a nutshell, was my expectation of this God that was called the king of the whole world. If humans and masquerades could honor people who sang their praises with a presence, then God also would do the same. That was my uneducated naivety. He never came out in the open to receive His praises. The main question on my mind was, why wouldn’t God come out?. Thus, I perceive you can now imagine the level of my disappointment.

As I grew a bit older, I was not easily swayed on beliefs except for my ultimate desire to see this heavenly-God physically. I did my best to accept whatever excuses the adults gave, but I was determined to find Him on my own. You need to understand that Africans have many gods. In the Yoruba land, we have different gods for different meaningful purposes. Our cultures have powerful male gods and motherly female goddesses. The Yorubas believe that our gods are sons and messengers Oludumare, the creator of our universe. In Irele, our mother god MALOKUN the goddess of the sea is the most powerful protector of my ancestors and our heritage. Maloku did so many things for my people. She defended our forefathers during perilous tribal wars, gave children to our barren women, healed us in times of sickness, poured down in the form of rain to avert long droughts, gave us produce and healed our land so we may have a plentiful harvest every year. We even have local folklore stories of a giant god who only comes out in defense of our people against all evading armies, which almost paralleled but preceded the story of Samson in the Bible.

Now the church tells us of a universal God to embrace a single deity that does the same things and for whom we must abandon all our ancestral gods. In my mind, I wanted to know the difference between the church-God and our ancestral-gods. Grandpa literarily divorced his family and our gods and went to work for the church God. So the conflict in my young mind was how to juggle the different philosophies; especially when we came back from church and still paid homage to the gods at home. At some point, I attended Jehovah’s Witness Kingdom Hall with Titus, my childhood friend in an attempt to see if God will show his face in their gathering. Disappointingly, they too only spoke of God just like my church. I needed more than words. I wanted to see who this God is.

Even at that tender age, I have chosen to be connected directly to God the creator, but I must first find him. Reverend Father Cahill and Reverend Sister Kelly gave it a try at the Catholic mission. They had a considerably large porcelain Jesus look-alike hanging on the cross in the main auditorium, but the real one was still missing. I asked the two Catholic priests, If Jesus has risen, and gone to heaven; why do you still have him hanging on a cross? They explained it, but I didn’t grasp the symbolism. He can’t be dead, risen, and gone in the sky and still be around here. When somebody leaves, he is gone and never to be seen, I concluded. They taught me about the same God sitting somewhere in the sky. A part of me agreed with what I have heard. However, their combined efforts did not assuage my thirst. If he is a king sitting in the sky, why can’t the church visit and talk to him or sing his praises as it was the case in our king’s palace?

There were many questions about this God no one could answer to my satisfaction. It seemed to me that these gods duplicated each other’s work as needed and competed for our attention on a regular basis. They help in times of need and kill at their pleasure without warning. Olodumare, the creator, Ogun, the god of iron and war, Olookun, the sea goddess, Sango, the god of thunder and other gods give children, and so does the church God. In his praises, Ogun was credited with building the most beautiful house in heaven. Oya, the most beautiful female ruler of the rivers, Sango, the thunder god brings rain, storms, strikes our sworn enemies, individually or in unison the gods pass judgment on evildoers, and so do the church-God. I desperately wanted to know to which of the gods we should be loyal. Most of the explanations and answers I got were full of fiction and magic that read like moonlight folklore. Nobody could say in particular who God is or where exactly He is. I also wanted to know who is the most powerful amongst the gods. And by that I meant the REAL God.

Why and how did the gods create us? And which of them actually created us, since they all have the ability to give children at will?

Why do we have to die before we can see any of the gods? We all know that whatever dies is gone. So how are we supposed to know God in death when he refused to let us see him while we are still alive?

Where is heaven and why is God only sending his children to us but wouldn’t come himself?

Why did He (God) first send us to earth expecting us to find our way back to Him in heaven; how are we supposed to know the way? And no human seemed to know the way, what then?

Why did He allow people to sin and die when we could have just stayed with him and be what he wanted us to be?

If He is our father and our fathers’ father, shouldn’t we be living with Him in His house, so He can teach us as our earthly parents do?

And why can’t we just go to see Him and come back at any time?

Where in heaven do the dead people go? And when will they return?

I nursed this particular question because anyone that went away usually comes back after a while and if