The Boy Who Came Back from Heaven: A Remarkable Account of Miracles, Angels, and Life Beyond This World by Kevin Malarkey; Alex Malarkey Read Free Book Online Page A

of going to Heaven and being with God.
    I have to admit, I did wonder about the sincerity of his faith. What can a child understand about the depths of faith at this age? Surely kids only mindlessly repeat the words and ideas adults feed them, without really understanding the truth.
    A few weeks after Alex prayed to invite Jesus into his life, I put his faith to the test.
    “Alex, does Jesus live in your heart?”
    “No, Daddy.”
    My heart sank. There it was, I thought. His prayer had been meaningless . . . but then Alex continued, “Jesus died for my sins, but He doesn’t live in my heart—He wouldn’t fit. The Holy Spirit is in my heart now.”
    So Alex did understand—Jesus had died for his sins and left the Holy Spirit as His Comforter and Counselor. I learned my lesson then and there: a young child is able to grasp the things God wants him to know.
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    Suddenly my consciousness was jerked back into the present. There was my precious son, lying in front of me. I took assurance from the fact that the Holy Spirit would be with Alex forever, but would God allow me to be with Alex again in this world?
    What else was there to do but to cry out to God for mercy? We didn’t know it then, but even the best doctors are quick to admit they don’t understand these situations very well. I could do nothing but beg God for help.
    Oh God, please forgive me for what I have done. Please let me apologize to Alex. Please protect him. Please comfort him. Please be his heavenly Father because his earthly father is completely helpless. I give You my son. I let go of him. He is Yours. Please help him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. I trust You, God. In Jesus’ name, amen.
    Somehow in God’s mercy, my spirit was bathed in a new sense of calm at the end of that prayer. Had some kind of spiritual transfer occurred? My theology already settled the matter of God’s being in complete control of the situation. God had already wrapped His arms around Alex, but had something fundamentally changed in Heaven because of my prayer to completely release Alex to God . . . to let go of what I couldn’t hold on to anyway? Somehow, it seemed so.
    Beth and I stayed and looked on our son in silence. How long, I don’t know. In the quietness, I slipped my arm around her, probably more for my comfort than for hers. The coma took Alex someplace we couldn’t reach him. I stared, wondering as my heart ached for my broken son. Little buddy, are you lonely? Are you scared? Do you want me to hold you? How desperately I want to hold you.
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    I remembered how much Alex had loved church. We belonged to a casual-dress church. For the most part, people dressed comfortably, and kids wore school clothing. Not Alex. He decided he wanted to wear a suit to church. Even with Daddy in khakis and a dress shirt, even with a pastor who almost never wore a suit, Alex wanted to wear a suit. He has never been a go-along-with-the-crowd type. He never wore a suit anywhere else. He wanted to dress up for God.
    And then I thought about another side of Alex—the one that spent as much time outdoors as possible. I remembered one day how deeply satisfied he looked as he walked barefoot in the back garden, crunching autumn leaves with his toes. “Daddy,” he asked, “don’t you just love the sound of the leaves under your feet?”
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    At some point during our first evening at the hospital, we were ushered into a room designated for parents whose kids were in the ICU. Our other three children had gone to stay with some of our friends, and we soon found ourselves alone in bed, staring at the ceiling in silence. What had just happened to our lives? What would tomorrow bring? Would Alex make it through the night? Where was he, really? The accident had traumatized his body. The coma had taken him far away. When would he come back? Would he come back?
    Oh God, we need You now . . .
    In a fit of exhaustion, we slept.
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    For the first week,