Final Judgement!

Reflecting on my Final Judgment, I did so with deep thought and heartfelt sincerity. I wondered if, when I kneel before Jesus, He will see me as faithful. I longed to be among those He accepts, but I have often felt so weak throughout my life. It’s only by God's divine grace that I can face my challenges. I had many questions about what my final scenario might look like, even turning to AI to understand its concept of God and its perception of humanity’s final fate from a nonhuman perspective. Keep in mind that these questions are only a guess at what the Judge would ask us. Our thoughts or actions are not aligned with God’s. We don’t have a clue. You can replace any of these questions with your own. This is my method of demonstrating that it is never too late to seek salvation and redemption. Remember, this session will determine the separation of goats and sheep, as well as our ultimate destination: heaven, hell, or purgatory.

Let’s begin.

You stand in a great stillness—no wind, no shadows, only a light that feels both like morning and eternity. It isn’t harsh. It isn’t blinding. It seems to move through you rather than around you, uncovering everything gently, like someone lifting veils you didn’t realize you wore.

And then you sense Him. 

It's not just a figure, a throne, or a spectacle; it's a profound sense of Presence. The One who created galaxies with a single word now seems to speak straight to your heart. His voice isn't loud and thunderous but gentle and full of truth, like a caring father calling to his child. He begins not with accusation, but with a question. The kind that seems to echo through your entire life at once. 

“Whom did you love above all?” 

            Your memories gently emerge like a soft mist, reminding you of what you chased, treasured, and clung to when everything else faded away. You recall Jesus’ words, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart...” and feel the question seep even deeper: Did your heart ever truly try to make space for Me? Another question follows, gentle but penetrating. 

“How did you treat the people I placed in your path?” 

            Faces appear—some you loved easily, some you struggled with, some you barely noticed. He isn’t tallying your kindness or your failures. Jesus is asking whether you ever saw Him in “the least of these,” just as He said you would. 

Any regrets?

Regrets often linger quietly in the corners of your memory—reminding us of words we left unspoken, opportunities we missed, or choices we'd like to change. They teach you, sometimes painfully, about your true values and deepest desires. While regrets can feel burdensome, they also hold wisdom: revealing who you are, who you're becoming, and how you want to proceed differently. Facing them honestly allows regrets to become guides rather than weights, helping you live intentionally with the time and opportunities you have left. Did I learn anything? 

Was it worth the price of your soul to protect those who did wrong for the sake of wealth? 

When someone sacrifices their integrity to protect wrongdoers, especially for money, the result often feels empty. Money may shield the body, but it can't quiet the mind or mend the inner cracks. What is preserved outwardly usually costs dearly inwardly — peace, dignity, and self-respect. Ultimately, wealth can be spent, lost, or forgotten, but the choices that influence the soul linger much longer. The real question isn't whether it was worth it, but what remains once temporary gains fade, and if one can restore what was given away. No matter what we have accumulated in life, we cannot take it with us in death. 

“Did you walk in the truth you were given?” 

            Not the truth you wished you had, or the truth you avoided, but the truth you knew. “To whom much is given, much will be required.” You sense that God is not measuring you against others, but only against the light that touched your own life. 

This was a question you had never considered before. Honestly? You’ve told many lies, so it’s hard to say. Even if you knew the truth you were given, you didn’t remember that whenever you lied. You see Jesus write something down in the Book of Life, once again. Please, Lord, no more questions.  You’re wondering if it would be better to look at videos of your secret indiscretions and decided to stick with the questions. What can you hide from God? He nodded and smiled with loving kindness. 

“What did you do with the gifts I entrusted to you?” 

Your talents, your time, your chances to bless or to build. You see moments where you used them well, and others where you buried them in fear, distraction, or pride. He does not scold. He asks as a father who remembers every seed He placed in His child’s hands.

Then the light seems to draw closer, resting tenderly on the deepest places of your heart. 

“Did your outward life reflect an inward change?” 

            You recall how Scripture says the Lord looks at the heart. Not the appearance. Not the reputation. What you truly desired. Why did you do what you did? What you clung to, and what you surrendered. 

And then, with surprising tenderness, Jesus asked.

“When you failed, and you did, did you seek My counsel?”  

You remember moments of repentance and moments of stubbornness. Yet the tone of the question is warm, as if He is reminding you that He always waited, always listened, always stood ready to forgive. “If we confess our sins…” echoes softly. 

Then comes a question that feels like the foundation beneath every other one. 

“Did you ever trust Me?” 

            Not just believe in My existence, but entrust Me with your fears, your wounds, your hopes, your eternity. Your soul recalls the truth. “Without faith it is impossible to please God.” That’s when I remembered, will Jesus find someone who is faithful when He returns? 

Finally, His voice becomes like a quiet river running through every moment of your life.  

“Did My grace and mercy change you?” 

            Did you hear about it, or did it truly impact you? Did you embrace it, or try to fight against it? Did you allow My love to break chains, soften your heart, and guide you? Make you new? You stand there, not condemned, but known, fully, finally, lovingly known. 

And in that moment, you understand the judgment of God is not just a verdict, but a revealing, a bringing to light of who you truly became in the presence of His truth, His mercy, and His grace. 

The light around you deepens—not brighter, but fuller, like a warmth spreading through the coldest corners of your soul. It is then that you realize the questions were never meant to expose you to shame, but to reveal the truth of your own story, the story God has watched unfold from the first beat of your heart.

Jesus moves closer. Not with steps, there is no ground here, no horizon, just the unmistakable drawing of a Presence whose nearness feels like healing, like home. And then Jesus asks one more question, softer than all the others.

 

“Did you ever believe that I love Me?” 

 

The words settle over you like a warm blanket on a cold night.

You remember moments when you felt unworthy, when you pulled away, when you carried wounds you thought too broken to show Him. But you also remember moments when His peace slipped quietly into your fear, when His forgiveness washed over your failures, when His grace lifted you from depths you could not climb alone. You feel the truth. His love was always there, constant, patient, pursuing.

 

The light gathers around you, and with it comes a sense of being wrapped, embraced, seen without any fragment of yourself hidden or misunderstood. The weight of your life—its joys, its wounds, its victories, its regrets—rests in His hands, and you sense no anger in Him. Only love. Only a Father’s heart. Then, without sound, without motion, you feel His verdict. Only truth. Not a sentence, not a decree, but a welcome. A welcome into a fullness you glimpsed in flashes during your life but never understood until now. A welcome into rest, the kind Jesus promised: “I go to prepare a place for you.” A welcome into a love that doesn’t merely surround you, but transforms you, completes you. You realize that judgment, in God’s presence, is not simply the weighing of deeds, but the unveiling of grace, the healing of every fracture, and the final answering of the deepest longing of the human spirit. To be fully known and fully loved.

 

The light spreads outward like the opening of eternity, and you step into it, not in fear, not in uncertainty, but in the quiet assurance that the One who judges is also the One who saves, restores, and calls you His own. And as you pass into that everlasting dawn, you understand at last that every question He asked was truly an invitation, an invitation into Him, into love, into life without end. 

 

No one knows what will happen at the end, nor has anyone ever told the story of the final judgement. There have been near-death experiences. I believe their spirits were still present in the body.