Ghosts, Heaven, and the Spaces In Between
My family and I visited my sister, Cara, in Charleston last summer. It’s known as The Holy City for its dense population of churches—over four hundred. The city’s historic and cultural beauty is remarkable, and if you haven’t been, I highly recommend it.
I’ve always wanted to see Savannah. Any fan of literature knows Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. The city has romance, history, culture—and ghosts. Since we were already in Charleston and within driving distance, we planned a two-day visit to “America’s most haunted city.”
I was raised to know the goodness of God. He loves me, hears my prayers, and is faithful. If I believe in His Son’s sacrifice and live according to that belief, I’ll go to heaven. Evil, on the other hand, was something to flee from and pray against. Its source was the devil—once a mighty angel, created by God but given free will, just as we were. He chose rebellion over obedience, and God allowed it. That, I was told, is why evil exists. Simple.
When I was young, I loved reading the Bible—well, mostly Genesis and Revelation. Dragons, prowling lions, demons, mighty angels. “There it is in the Bible,” I’d say. “It says the fallen angels—demons—mated with human women. Their offspring became the ‘heroes of old.’” I pictured giants, heroes like Achilles, and demigods like Pluto. Was there some truth in ancient mythology?
When I asked about such things, I was told, “Yes, Ben, evil certainly exists, and if we’re not careful, it can influence us.”
I learned about the devil’s methods—deception, division, doubt—and was told to pray for protection. Still, I’d ask, “But how real are they? Can demons attack us? Do angels defend us? If there’s a war between good and evil over human souls, how visible is it to us?”
The answer was always something like: “Yes, it’s real. Be aware of it, but don’t dwell on it. Just trust God.”
That was enough for my fifteen-year-old self. But at twenty-three, I had an experience that changed how I saw the unseen world.
I had just graduated from college and was taking a year off before chiropractic school. My parents had moved from Illinois to a beautiful new home in the woods of Black Forest, Colorado. I stayed in the guest room in the finished basement.
You know those moments burned into your memory—where you can recall every detail? Like where you were the day the planes hit the World Trade Center? That’s how this moment is for me.
I was lying in bed reading The Return of the King. I must have fallen asleep with the lamp on. My dream was strange—filled with sensations more than images. A pungent smell. Something furry brushing against my legs, like a feather duster moving from my toes to my hips. Then a warm pressure on my stomach, like a small animal sitting there. Two soft points pressed and released, like a seesaw motion. I wasn’t scared—just curious.
Then I opened my eyes.
A black cat sat on my stomach.
Holy shit.
I was more shocked than afraid. I swiped at it, and my arm passed through as if through mist. The cat leapt from my stomach like lightning—but its movement wasn’t fluid. It was jerky, like stop-motion animation or a flipbook. I lunged forward and swiped again as it darted under the bed. Nothing.
The digital clock read 6:66—just kidding. It was 1:00 a.m. I turned on the lights, splashed water on my face, and realized I wasn’t dreaming. I thought about waking my parents—but I was twenty-three. Too old for that. I sat at my desk with an open Bible on my lap until sunrise.
This was not a dream.
What I learned that night was simple but profound: the cat was afraid when it realized I didn’t fear it. Correction—I was afraid, but the Spirit within me was not. And from that night on, I’ve believed in ghosts.
When we visited Savannah, we did what any nerdy history buff or homeschool family would do—a Segway tour. After ten minutes of near-death practice, we finally got the hang of it. We rolled past town squares, the bench where Forrest Gump waited for his bus, haunted mansions, and even a Civil War burial site.
Our guide told us a story:
“My roommate and I were sitting in our apartment—he on the couch, me playing the drums—when a ghost walked right through the room between us. He was dressed as a Union soldier — light blue pants, dark jacket, musket slung over his shoulder. He didn’t even look at us, just walked through the wall and vanished. The craziest part? We both saw it.”
Every local had a ghost story. Sightings were as common as shrimp on the menu, and no one seemed embarrassed to share theirs.
Whenever I’d told people about my demon-cat, I’d been hesitant—afraid they’d think I was a kook. But not in Savannah. There, it almost felt like you were the odd one out if you hadn’t seen a ghost.
Some of the stories were dark, clearly evil. But what struck me was how many described ghosts as unaware—wandering, oblivious to the living, even friendly. Some asked for prayers; others, oddly, for food.
I know demons are cunning—they’ve had millennia to master deceit. Maybe the devil no longer scares people into disbelief; maybe he just confuses them. Scripture says, “The devil masquerades as an angel of light.” Deception can be beautiful. Still, something in me felt there was more to the story.
Ghosts and spirits have been part of human history from the start. Some believe the spirits of the Nephilim—the children of fallen angels and human women—wander the earth because they have no natural souls capable of entering heaven.
Scripture gives casual mention to ghosts as if they were common knowledge:
Matthew 14:26–27
Luke 24:36–39
Mark 6:49–50
Isaiah 29:4
While the Bible condemns summoning spirits, it also mentions instances where the dead appear in holy contexts. In Matthew 27:52–53, “saints” rise from their tombs and appear to many after Jesus’ resurrection.
So why is it taboo in some Christian circles to discuss the possibility that not all ghosts are evil?
Many assume the Bible teaches there are only three places: earth, heaven, and hell. But Scripture describes many realms—spiritual and physical—beyond just those.
Genesis 1:1 – “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” (Heavens is plural—shamayim—indicating multiple levels.)
2 Corinthians 12:2–4 – Paul speaks of the “third heaven,” or Paradise, a realm beyond the physical universe.
Psalm 16:10 and Luke 16:22–23 – describe Sheol and Hades, realms of the dead, divided between comfort and torment.
Matthew 10:28 – “Fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.” (Here, Gehenna refers to the final place of punishment, distinct from Hades.)
Luke 8:31, Revelation 9:1–2, 2 Peter 2:4 – describe a deep spiritual prison for fallen angels, separate from both Heaven and Hell.
Ephesians 6:12 – “We wrestle not against flesh and blood... but against spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” (Heavenly places—plural.)
This list isn’t exhaustive, but it shows Scripture presents multiple realms of existence—intermediary places between death, judgment, and eternity.
Some point to Paul’s line, “Absent from the body, present with the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:8), as proof that believers go straight to heaven when they die. But that’s a misunderstanding. Paul wasn’t laying out a timeline of the afterlife—he was expressing longing: “Yes, we’d rather be with God than endure this life.”
Nowhere in Scripture does it plainly say every soul immediately enters heaven or hell at death (apart from exceptional cases, like the thief on the cross).
So could what we call “ghosts” be glimpses of something else—moments where the veil between realms thins?
What do you think?
