The In-Between: Part Two Exploration of the Transition Between Life and Death Part 1 of 3

06/25/2026

The day started with me looking forward to seeing the chiropractor, particularly Dr. Greenwell.

Before I could leave, though, I needed to wash some clothes. That meant spending some time in the laundry room with Lily, the new calico kitten.

I quickly discovered she's a little spicy.

She loves to play, but once she gets worked up, she doesn't quite know how to calm herself back down. She also doesn't understand the concept of personal space. If I'm in the room, she wants to be right beside me, on me, or climbing all over whatever I'm trying to do. She craves constant attention, and although I know that's fairly typical for kittens, she seems to take it to another level.

Unfortunately, I never did get the washing machine working. Even after spending a good part of the morning troubleshooting it, it refused to cooperate.

My dad eventually woke up and asked if I wanted breakfast. He made two eggs over easy and a couple slices of bacon.

For someone who always says he doesn't cook, he somehow manages to make breakfast perfectly every single time.

Maybe I don't tell him that enough.

While we were watching Lily explore the house, we joked that she already looks like she's wearing makeup. The markings around her eyes almost give her an Egyptian appearance. At one point we laughed and said that Monkey finally has a pretty girlfriend after all these years.

Assuming I decide to keep her.

Yesterday, I was convinced she was staying.

Today... I'm still weighing that decision.

One thought kept returning to me throughout the morning.

I woke up.

I didn't remain asleep.

I didn't remain dead.

Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing depends on the day, I suppose, but it is another opportunity.

Another chance to think differently.

Another chance to become something different.

That realization is probably what pushed me toward writing this entry sooner than I had planned.

Originally, I intended to put some distance between Part One and Part Two.

Instead, this subject has been sitting directly in front of me.

Ever since my unexpected conversation with the medium at Walmart, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

Not because I walked away convinced.

Not because I suddenly found answers.

But because the questions haven't left me.

Was it simply an unusual conversation?

Was it coincidence?

Or was it something more?

Before diving into this discussion, I want to make an important distinction.

When many healthcare professionals speak about "transitioning," they're referring to the body's final stage before death.

Hospice nurse Beth Cavenaugh describes transitioning as the first stage of dying—a period during which a patient's body gradually declines before entering the actively dying phase. She notes that this period can last days or even weeks, while some patients appear to skip it almost entirely.

One observation she shares particularly caught my attention.

She describes how some patients begin speaking in traveling metaphors. They talk about packing for a trip, waiting in line, or boarding a ship, almost as though they're preparing for a journey. Whether those experiences are neurological, psychological, spiritual, or something we simply don't yet understand is a discussion of its own.

From what I've seen so far, her work appears to be centered on helping patients, families, and loved ones better understand the dying process and the experiences that often accompany it.

The transition I'm exploring is different.

I'm not referring to the body's gradual decline before death.

I'm referring to the possibility—if there is one—that exists after the body has died but before whatever comes next.

If there is more to us than our physical bodies...

If consciousness continues in some form...

If there truly is a heaven, a hell, or something else beyond this life...

What happens in between?

Not during the body's decline.

Not at our final destination.

But in that moment after we leave the shell that carried us through this life and before we arrive wherever it is we ultimately go, if anywhere at all.

That's the transition I want to explore.

If you approach the question from a Christian perspective, that destination might be heaven or hell.

Other religions and philosophies offer very different possibilities.

Over the coming discussion, I'd like to begin by exploring the Christian perspective before gradually expanding into other viewpoints.

This isn't an attempt to prove what happens after death.

It's an exploration of one of humanity's oldest questions.

What, if anything, exists in the in-between?

After finally getting the washing machine saga behind me, I eventually made it to the chiropractor to see Dr. Greenwell.

He asked me how I'd been feeling since my last adjustment.

I told him I'd actually had one of the best days I'd experienced in a long time.

For a while, I felt... normal.

But eventually everything settled back into what has become my baseline—pain, tightness, and feeling misaligned.

Then the conversation took an unexpected turn.

I told him something that had surprised me.

"The strange thing," I said, "was that while I was feeling normal, I almost found myself wondering where the pain had gone. It was almost like I was expecting it to be there."

He immediately understood what I meant.

He explained that it was a strange phenomenon. We can become so accustomed to pain, discomfort, or unhealthy patterns that feeling normal can almost feel unfamiliar. Sometimes we become so used to expecting something to hurt that when it doesn't, the absence itself feels strange.

As he was talking, my mind immediately connected it to something much larger.

Part One of The In-Between was largely about how difficult it can be to leave a chapter of life, even one filled with grief and pain. Not because we enjoy suffering, but because familiarity has a way of becoming comfortable. We adapt to what we know, even when what we know hurts.

Perhaps emotional pain works much the same way.

Perhaps after living inside a chapter long enough, healing itself can begin to feel unfamiliar.

The irony is that we often pray for relief, yet when relief finally arrives, part of us almost doesn't know what to do with it.

Dr. Greenwell wasn't able to adjust one section of my thoracic spine today.

He explained that the muscles were simply too tight.

Instead, he focused on adjusting my cervical spine and suggested we come back to the other area during my appointment on Saturday.

Sometimes, he said, we have to take what we can get today instead of forcing something that isn't ready.

I laughed and replied, "A win is a win."

He smiled.

"A win is a win."

Looking back, that conversation almost feels symbolic.

Sometimes healing doesn't happen all at once.

Sometimes one part improves while another has to wait.

Sometimes progress comes one adjustment at a time.

As I left the chiropractor's office, I got back into my car and headed toward the hospital to meet my pastor friend, McKinley Darden—Mr. Mac.

Originally, I'd been trying to reach him because of The Assignment, the flower project I've been planning for nursing homes. He had previously offered to help and mentioned he might know someone else who would be interested in joining the project.

But now that I'm writing about the Christian perspective on the transition between life and death, I also wanted to hear his thoughts on the subject.

Instead, our conversation turned into an invitation.

He was on his way to pray with a hospitalized neighbor, and when I asked if everything was okay, he explained where he was headed. I asked if I could join him after my appointment, and he welcomed me to come along.

One thing I still haven't solved is the washing machine.

I never did get it working.

Somewhere back home, there's still a load of wet clothes sitting inside, waiting for me to deal with it.

In fact, I almost forgot about them until just now.

At some point today, I'll have to make time to go back and figure that out too.

Life has a funny way of doing that.

You can spend the day contemplating some of the biggest questions imaginable—life, death, consciousness, faith—and yet the ordinary responsibilities of everyday life never stop reminding you they're still there.

Now I'm pulling into the hospital parking lot.

I don't yet know this man.

I don't know his condition.

I don't know what I'm about to witness.

I only know that I came looking for a conversation about the Christian perspective on the in-between...

...and instead, I may be about to experience a small part of it firsthand.

Before I call Mr. Mac and walk inside, I have no idea where this day—or this article—is about to lead.

While waiting for Mr. Mac to arrive, I spent some time researching what different Christian traditions teach about the period between death and eternity.

One thing became clear almost immediately.

Christianity is not entirely unified on what happens during that transition.

There are broad areas of agreement. Most Christians believe that death is not the end. Most believe that human beings are more than physical bodies. Most believe in resurrection, final judgment, and an eternal destination. But when it comes to what happens immediately after death, the answers begin to vary depending on the denomination, tradition, and interpretation of Scripture.

In the most common Christian understanding, death is not viewed as the end of existence but as a transition. The body dies, but the soul or spirit continues. Many Christians believe that the soul separates from the body and enters either the immediate presence of God or separation from Him. Ultimately, Christianity also teaches a final judgment and the physical resurrection of the body, leading into eternity and, in many traditions, a renewed creation.

That means the Christian view of the afterlife often centers on several major ideas: the soul's condition after death, judgment, resurrection, Heaven, and Hell.

Many Christians believe in what is often called the intermediate state. When a person dies, their soul or spirit is believed to immediately enter the presence of God, often described as Heaven or Paradise. In this view, the believer is conscious, at peace, and free from earthly pain and sin, while still awaiting the final resurrection of the body.

Judgment is also central to the Christian view. Christians believe in a final Day of Judgment, where humanity stands before God and gives an account of life. For many Christians, those who have accepted Jesus as Savior are judged according to His righteousness rather than their own failures.

Then there is the doctrine of bodily resurrection. At the return of Jesus Christ, the dead in Christ are believed to be resurrected. Their souls are reunited with new, imperishable, glorified bodies. In this view, eternity is not merely a disembodied spiritual existence but a restored and completed form of life.

Heaven, or eternal life, is generally understood as existence in the presence of God. Some traditions describe this as being with God in Heaven, while others emphasize the renewed universe described in Scripture as a new heaven and a new earth. In this final state, there is no more sickness, sorrow, or death.

Hell is usually described as eternal separation from God. For Christians who hold this view, those who reject God's forgiveness and salvation face separation from His presence, sometimes described as spiritual death.

Even within that broad framework, there are denominational differences.

Catholicism teaches Purgatory, which is understood as a temporary state of purification for the soul before entering Heaven. This differs from many Protestant traditions, which generally reject Purgatory and instead focus on either immediate presence with God or another understanding of the intermediate state.

Other Christian groups hold to what is often called soul sleep or Christian mortalism. This is the belief that when a person dies, the soul enters an unconscious resting state until the resurrection and final judgment. In this view, the dead are unaware of the passage of time until they are awakened by Christ.

The biblical basis for soul sleep often comes from passages that describe death as sleep. In the New Testament, physical death is frequently referred to this way. For example, Paul describes believers who have died as having "fallen asleep." Some also point to passages such as Ecclesiastes 9:5, which says that the dead know nothing, interpreting that as evidence of an unconscious state before resurrection.

The traditional view, sometimes described as immediate consciousness, takes a different approach. Many mainstream Christian traditions interpret sleep as a metaphor for the body resting while the soul remains conscious. They often point to passages such as 2 Corinthians 5:8, commonly understood as being absent from the body and present with the Lord, and Luke 23:43, where Jesus tells the thief on the cross that he will be with Him in Paradise.

Because of that, mainstream Christianity has often rejected soul sleep, though it remains a view held by some Christian groups and individual believers. Some traditions, such as Seventh-day Adventists and Jehovah's Witnesses, are commonly associated with versions of this belief, though their broader theology differs from mainstream Christianity in important ways.

Personally, soul sleep is the view I have tended to lean toward.

But that does not mean I am unwilling to examine other perspectives.

Quite the opposite.

One of the reasons I am writing this series is because I am willing to explore ideas that differ from my own if they present a compelling case.

That does not mean I will accept every explanation I encounter.

I am an analytical person by nature.

I tend to look for ideas that are internally consistent, logically coherent, and grounded in something more than wishful thinking.

At the same time, I also understand that not everything spiritual will fit neatly inside human logic.

Maybe soul sleep is exactly what happens.

Maybe another perspective explains the transition more accurately.

Or maybe none of us will truly know until we experience it ourselves.

Until then, I am willing to keep exploring.

That is what I was doing while sitting there in the hospital parking lot, waiting for Mr. Mac.

I was not trying to abandon what I believe.

I was trying to examine the space around it.

The question remained the same.

If the body dies...

If the soul exists...

If judgment awaits...

What, if anything, happens in between?