I had major surgery on my legs in 1969 when I was 32 years of age. Whilst on the operating table, and under anaesthetic, I had a cardiac arrest.
The only way I can describe it is that, although my body was on the table, and the doctors were fighting to get me back to life again, part of me was above them, and began to float away from that operating theatre. I started to go down and down. It was horrific. I could see faces in pits, contorted with agony and pain. As I continued to go down, I began to be tormented by demons of all shapes and sizes. Not only were they ugly, but the smell was dreadful.
What made this downward journey even more terrifying were the lost souls I could see. There were many other awful things of which I cannot bear to speak. I came into a room where I could smell sulphur, and I saw a lake of fire. I could feel the flames and heat from that fire. My thoughts were that if I hit the bottom I would stay forever. There is never ending night and day for eternity in that dreadful place where the fear, pain and torment never cease.
It was bad enough hearing the screams and seeing indescribable horrors. But then I saw my own father in that place. I wanted so much to help, but knew I could not do anything for him. My father had been a good man, and became very sick with cancer. The vicar came to see him and asked if he could pray, but my father refused any prayer, or any mention of Jesus. He wanted nothing to do with Him. Now, as I looked at him, I knew he regretted that decision to turn his back on Jesus. It was his free will choice, but what devastating consequences! As I continued to look with horror at the situation he was in, it was if his thoughts spoke to me again. He told me to warn my mother, so that she would not have to come to this terrible place where there was no respite, and no end to the torment.
The heat was unbearable. I also knew there was nothing I could do to release my father from his ‘chosen’ destination. I was also terrified lest I should dragged down and forced to stay there. In my desperation I cried out to God, ‘Oh, God, please help me!’
At the moment of crying out to God, I heard another voice crying, ‘We have a heartbeat!’ I wanted to tell the surgeon, and the rest of the team, that I had been to Hell, and was terrified. I was put on oxygen. They kept telling me to rest because they were concerned about me, and wanted me to get well. Nevertheless, I kept trying to tell them, ‘I’ve been to Hell, and I never want to go there again!’
Yet still I did not come into a close relationship with Jesus. I allowed Satan to deceive me, and to draw me away from a true walk with God. There were further major operations. Each time I went into hospital I was in absolute terror of death and Hell. I kept seeing myself burning in the flames, being tormented like my poor father. My mother and sister would not listen to what I had to say about dad and Hell. The problem was I did not go to the right people for help, and I became more and more taken over by the torment and fear with which Satan and his evil spirits confused me.
It was when I was 50 years old that my lovely daughter Michelle came to see me one day. She told me that she had given her life to Jesus, and that she knew of someone who would be able to help me. Thank God I agreed to allow Canon Jim Fry to come and pray for me. On 23 February 1987 my life was completely changed. As Canon Fry prayed for me, God spoke to me saying, ‘I have sent my beloved Son, Jesus, to deliver and set you free.’ I saw the battle going on for my soul in the spiritual realm, but Jesus dealt with it all. I was set free to go and tell other people what He had done for me, in order to set other captives free.
What a wonderful day that was. My husband was there too, and he also gave his life to Jesus. We were both set free, born again by the Spirit of God, never again to be tormented by fear.
In 1995, Rita Chuter died at her appointed time, and we know that she is now with Jesus.