"The Reassignment of Jackson Cole" NDE

No pain. No sound. No explosion in my ears. Just silence. But not the kind that suffocates. This silence was vast—living. It was then I realized: I wasn’t unconscious. I wasn’t dreaming. I was dead.

Podcast 109 - DEEP DIVE INTO PURPOSE OF LIFE - Soldier Killed Has NDE

I never believed in near-death experiences—until I had one.

My name is Jackson Cole. Two tours overseas. I’ve seen friends blown apart and enemies reduced to shadows. War marked me. But nothing—nothing—prepared me for April 17th, 2024.

It started as just another patrol in northern Syria. Hot. Tense. The kind of tension that makes your teeth ache. Our intel flagged a village for strange electronic activity—vague, but you learn not to ask too many questions. I was point man on a six-man team. I remember telling the guys, “Something’s not right.” No kids playing in the streets. No dogs barking. Even the wind felt like it was holding its breath.

Then, out of nowhere—a whistle. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just... final.

I looked up. Saw nothing. Then I was gone.

No pain. No sound. No explosion in my ears. Just silence. But not the kind that suffocates. This silence was vast—living. It was then I realized: I wasn’t unconscious. I wasn’t dreaming. I was dead.

But I wasn’t gone.

I opened my eyes and stood barefoot in a glowing field with no sun. No sky. Just light—not like daylight, but like revelation. I felt stripped—of gear, of war, of everything unnecessary. Then I heard Him before I saw Him.

“You’re not lost, Jackson. You’ve just been reassigned.”

I turned. A figure—tall, radiant, robed in living light—stood before me. No wings. No halo. Just authority that made every warlord I’d ever met seem like a trembling child.

“Who are you?” I asked, but my soul already knew.

“I am,” He said.

And then I cracked open. This wasn’t a hallucination. I was in the presence of Jesus Christ.

“You died in obedience,” He said, walking toward me. “But I allowed it—so I could speak to you... for them.”

“Them?” I whispered.

“The ones still fighting. The ones still blind. The world is entering a deception so deep, many won’t know they’re asleep.”

He showed me the drone strike from above—the decision, the click, the explosion. But what chilled me more were the spirits that followed. Dark beings moved through the smoke, collecting souls—not with chains or claws, but with confusion. Jesus turned to me.

“They died for the wrong kingdom.”

I shook. “I thought we were fighting for good.”

“You were,” He said. “But only those aligned with my Kingdom are gathered into glory.”

Then I saw the faces of men I served with—calling out without words, trapped in regret. Floating. Unclaimed.

“They died full of pride, but empty of purpose,” Jesus said.

“Then why am I here?”

His eyes pierced me. “Because 2025 begins a war not of nations—but of truth. And I need voices who know how to fight.”

“But I’m just a soldier,” I whispered.

“Exactly,” He said.

He led me to a living doorway—not wood, not stone—but made of memory. Every decision I’d ever made pulsed in it. Every lie, every prayer, every doubt. It stood like a mirror, but instead of my face, it showed my soul.

“Only what is eternal can enter.”

As I stepped through, parts of me fell away—anger, shame, medals, guilt. Old armor I no longer needed. On the other side was light—not empty, but alive. I was surrounded by saints, martyrs, ordinary believers—witnesses. They nodded as I passed.

One whispered, “Tell them, Jackson: Time is no longer what it seems.”

Another said, “2025 is the beginning of the birth pains.”

I turned to Jesus. “What’s happening?”

Instead of speaking, He opened the sky. And I saw what the world isn’t ready for.

No time. No clocks. Only alignment.

The veil lifted and I stood on a field of living stillness. There, a warrior angel appeared—towering, eyes like molten bronze. His voice was silent thunder.

“You are not here as a spectator. You are here because 2025 has passed the threshold. Earth is being shifted. Not by politics. Not by power. But by alignment.”

Behind him stood a sword. Upright. Crackling with lightning.

“This is the Sword of Separation. It will divide—those who speak truth from those who live it. Those who follow Christ from those who follow the crowd.”

Then I saw the temple. Ancient. Glowing. Vibrating with meaning. At its gate stood another angel—this one looked human, but his eyes were flames.

“Jackson Cole,” he said. “You’ve been summoned to the Decision Book.”

I trembled. But walked forward.

Each step felt like I carried the prayers of generations. The weight wasn’t heavy—it was holy.

Inside the temple, I saw the book—not ink and pages, but light and consequence. A record not just of deeds, but of decisions—made in public, in secret, in the heart.

The angel turned the pages. My name shimmered.

“You are not done,” he said. “You are sent back. Not as who you were. But as who you are becoming.”

Then Jesus touched my shoulder. “Warn them,” He said. “Time is not running out. It has already changed.”

In a blink, I was falling. Returning. My chest surged with breath. My body screamed in pain. Medics shouted. Sirens wailed.

But I was alive.

And I remember everything.

My name is Jackson Cole. And I have a message:

The battle coming is not one of flesh and blood. It's a war for truth, for soul, for alignment. And it has already begun. Choose your Kingdom. While you still can.