My Glimpse of Heaven Armed Me Against Trauma, Illness, and Spiritual Attacks

Excerpted from Unlocking Heaven’s Truth.

I’ve heard that when someone goes to heaven, they often return with a message or takeaway for life.

For me, that’s precisely what happened. Many years later, after my time in God’s hands, the Holy Spirit said, “I gave you an answer key to help you navigate through future events that will happen to you.” I now understand He was speaking about everything from being assaulted as a teen (a form of trafficking), to situations with my children, and my personal sickness. Any one of those things could have killed me, but God had a plan.

It’s been like having the teacher’s answer key during an exam, providing the answers I’ve needed to get through the most challenging questions. When I talk about the “answer key,” I’m referring to the moments when God made it clear what I needed to do to survive. God’s hand guided me, giving me the wisdom and courage to take the proper steps at the right time.

For most of my adult life, I have frequently gone back to the near-death experience I had at 14 years old that I share more in detail in my book, where I was sitting in the Father’s hands, and He repeatedly reminded me, “Heather. Everything’s going to be okay; I have you in My hands. It’s time for you to go now.”

That answer key has guided me through near-death experiences, spiritual battles, and, ultimately, into a deeper relationship with God.

The Night Everything Changed

One night in downtown Minneapolis became a significant turning point in my life. I had been struggling with severe blood clots, and the Holy Spirit made it clear to me that I needed to attend a prayer meeting at the convention center downtown. But the decision to go wasn’t easy.

I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, I knew the importance of my role in the ministry—it was like the grabber line in the opening segment of a TV show, crucial for getting people’s hearts ready for what was to come. I had to shake myself because our training to be accountable and reliable was so strong in the ministry we served.

On the other hand, I knew deep in my heart that I had to attend that prayer meeting. The pressure was immense, and I felt the weight pressing down on me as I drove away, leaving the ministry and my duties in the capable hands I’d delegated them to for that evening.

Fear gripped me as the weight of my decision sank in. It was getting dark, and I had always been taught that young women should never venture downtown alone at night. Yet there I was, clutching my printed MapQuest directions, preparing to drive into the heart of the city. For 17 years, I had served faithfully at my parents’ ministry, and leaving my responsibilities behind felt like a betrayal. But deep in my heart, I knew I had to go.

My stomach and head swirled as I pulled up to the front doors. I exited the car and changed seats with Joseph to take the car downtown. I slid into the driver’s seat and thought, What am I doing? But I know I need to go!

Pushing Through the Crowd

Fear, doubt, and unbelief swirled around me as I drove. I kept thinking, Will I receive prayer from Andrew Wommack? Should I turn the car around? But I kept pushing myself forward. I was desperate—like the woman who pushed through the crowd to touch Jesus’ garment for healing (Luke 8:43-48). I knew I needed the message that would be preached that night. Even if it didn’t lead to total healing, I believed it would strengthen my faith and sustain me for whatever came next.

I thought of Mary Magdalene, searching for Jesus at the tomb, driven by a deep need to find the answer. She was desperate, searching to understand what had happened. She was so overwhelmed that she didn’t even recognize Jesus at first, mistaking Him for the gardener. But her heart cried, “Where have you laid my Lord? Where is He?”

Mary’s heart was so stirred for Him that she placed a demand on Jesus without even realizing it. Her love for Him drew Him to her. Even as the heavens rejoiced in His victory over death, hell, and the grave, Jesus paused in His glorious ascent to speak to her and call her by name (John 20:11-18).

In our moments of deepest need, when we’re searching for answers with all our hearts, Jesus is ready to reveal Himself to us.

Like Mary, I was so focused on my search, so burdened by the weight of obedience, that I didn’t see that Jesus was already with me, working things out behind the scenes. In those moments of raw, honest searching, He speaks our name, reminding us that He’s been with us all along, guiding us through the weight of obedience, and leading us to the answers we desperately seek.

A half-hour after the meeting ended, Andrew announced they were not going to have a corporate prayer. He apologized for the short staffing and said he needed to go. I silently said, “Holy Spirit, You told me, ‘You have to go to this meeting. You’re going to die if you don’t.’” So, I waited.

Andrew was supposedly already gone, but about half an hour later, as I was talking to a woman, he suddenly emerged from behind the curtain.

As I walked up to Andrew, all the fear and doubt I’d been wrestling with came to the surface. I had watched him for years and knew him to be no-nonsense and to the point. But at that moment, all I could manage to say was, “I have two days,” before breaking into uncontrollable sobs. Everything poured out— tears, raw emotion, all of it. I was a mess, and part of me couldn’t help but think, Where are the ushers with the Kleenex box?

It’s funny how your brain can do several things at once. Even as I was sobbing, part of me was horrified at how I must have looked—streaming tears and my nose running. But I had to shake it off. I needed healing more than I needed to look composed. The enemy tried to distract me in that moment of embarrassment with how much of a mess I was instead of focusing on the purpose of why I was there.

Andrew laid hands on me, but then he pulled back, and I remember him saying, “You do have some sickness going on, but it’s more than that…this is demonic oppression.” I had never heard him speak about demonic things regarding sickness, but as I stood in front of him, I knew he was right. My husband and I had been ministering in a community dealing with some heavy spiritual darkness, and the attacks we were facing suddenly made sense in light of what Andrew was saying.

He began to pray and commanded healing in my throat and neck. I felt something shift in my spirit, and I knew I had to hold on to that moment as if my life depended on it—because it did.

Someone finally brought me some Kleenex (thank You, Holy Spirit), and I cleaned myself up as best I could. As I walked out of the convention center, I felt a deep peace. God told me again, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

From Transactional Faith to Faith Rooted in Love

That night marked a significant shift in my spiritual journey. Until then, I had approached faith transactionally—praying, fasting, and reading the Bible, expecting God to respond based on my actions. I believed that He had to heal me if I did everything right. However, that mindset left me frustrated and spiritually drained.

I realized that I had been treating my relationship with God like a series of transactions—if I do this, He’ll do that. But that night in Minneapolis, I began to understand that my faith needed more than just following rules. It had to become a deeper, abiding love for God. That night, the Holy Spirit whispered, “Get to know Me. Don’t just know about Me—fall in love with Me for real.”

That’s when things started to change. As I moved from a transactional faith to one rooted in love, I began to see healing manifest in my life. It wasn’t just believing that God could heal me; it was knowing He already had, and aligning my life with that truth.

I often think about this shift in my faith like a “runner’s high.” I trained a lot when I was younger—I even trained for a triathlon. I’d heard people talk about “runner’s high,” but I never understood what they meant until I experienced it on race day. Only when I pushed myself to the absolute limit did I finally feel that euphoric rush, that sense of crossing over into something greater.

In the same way, my spiritual breakthrough came when I pushed past my limits—when I stopped relying on my efforts and truly surrendered to God’s love. It was like I had been running the race of faith with everything I had, and finally, I crossed over into that place where faith, hope, and love converged.

The Battle of Mental Fortitude and Perseverance

This journey wasn’t just about a single moment of breakthrough. It was a battle of mental fortitude and perseverance—a fight I had to keep engaging in daily. The battle in the mind is where the enemy will try to wear you down, often with discouragement, which comes when you’re not seeing any change in the circumstances you are fighting for. This is a tactic the devil uses to bring you down so that you will quit.

After that night in Minneapolis, I had to endure for two more days, clinging to the truth that I was healed, even when my circumstances screamed otherwise. I had to hang on and refuse to allow anything into my ears through conversation and into my heart that would take away the deposit I received through the prayer spoken over me.

This required me to be very assiduous in my faith, being fully persuaded that I was healed the moment I received prayer. Hanging on to it, I did not allow any inner or outside influence to sway me otherwise because every time I bent forward, the blood clots in my throat would choke me, making it hard to breathe. I fought to disesteem every symptom, telling myself 1,000 times over, “I am healed, and I did receive healing the moment hands were laid on me.”

Every minute was a game of tug-of-war, with my faith on one side and the reality of my circumstances on the other. The Holy Spirit was a coach on the sidelines, shouting encouragement from God’s Word: “This is possible! You can do it! You have to do it! I can’t do it for you!”

I knew something had changed when I woke up on the morning of my scan. As I washed my face and ran my hands down my neck, I gasped—the lumps were gone, and my neck was completely smooth. I tried leaning forward and bending every which way, but nothing happened. I no longer choked or gasped for breath.

I ran to my husband, Joseph, yelling, “I’m healed, I’m healed, I’m healed!” We celebrated together, knowing that if God could do this, He could also take care of everything else.

At the clinic, the doctors looked at me like I was wasting their time. They went through with the scan anyway, and the results confirmed what I already knew—there were no blood clots in my throat anymore. I was completely healed. But this victory didn’t come without a fight. It required mental toughness and perseverance that I had never experienced before.