Elias Saw Hell During Near-Death Experience

My name is Elias and today I want to tell you how I saw hell following a near-death experience. I was born in Majoken, Mexico, a rather modest place. Unfortunately, my home life was far from harmonious. My father was constantly aggressive. Violence against children leaves deep scars, and the enemy seizes the opportunity to plant seeds of resentment that eventually sprout into bitterness that sums up my childhood and part of my youth.

Times I remember with pain. I grew up in a Catholic environment. And in my search for God, I would go to church where I found only images of a lifeless Christ perpetually crucified. There was a massive statue of Christ that they would take down from the cross and place in a glass coffin. It was an imposing figure about 3 m tall, completely bloodied and battered. That image stirred a deep spiritual need within me.

I always get emotional recalling that time of bitterness and the sweetness that came later. That was how I saw Christ. Unable to help because I perceived him only as a defeated figure. I grew up drifting away from my father. By the time I reached adolescence, I began living life on my own terms. My mother could no longer control me. I became unpredictable and dangerous. I immigrated to the United States in the 1980s, arriving first in California in 1978 when I was 16 or 17.

For four or five years, I distanced myself from my family, including my mother and sisters. My younger sisters were only 8 to 10 years old when I left. Once in Texas, I sent money sporadically, but essentially I lived only for myself. I bought cars and crashed them. I made money and spent it without a second thought. I had never owned anything before, so that became my lifestyle. One day, I thought about my mother and siblings, wondering how they were doing.

I decided to return to Mexico. I found them living in a troubled area of Guadalajara, plagued by gangs that had assaulted my mother and sisters. By then, my mother had converted to Christianity and had influenced my siblings, each in their own way. I for my part rejected any approach to religion. I told my mother, "Keep Jesus if he does you good." But as for me, I didn't want anything to do with that.

It wasn't a lack of desire, but rather that if I'm going to do something wrong, I want to be the best at it. And if I'm going to serve God, I want to do it worthily. I just didn't feel up to the task. I asked them not to speak to me about the subject anymore and said, "I only wanted to visit." I saw the absolute poverty my family was living in and decided I needed to buy them a house in a quiet area.