Murder Victim Dies & Jesus Shows Her EXACTLY What’s Coming Next to America: The Near-Death Experience of Hannah Collins
On a cold spring night in New Mexico, Hannah Collins, a 17-year-old high school senior from Texas, bled to death in a dusty diner parking lot. What happened next, she claims, was not an end, but a beginning—a near-death experience (NDE) that revealed not only her own fate, but a chilling vision for the future of America.
A Night That Changed Everything
Hannah’s story begins like any other teenager’s. She was worried about SAT scores, fought with her mom about curfew, and dreamed of studying veterinary science at Texas A&M. She and her best friend Maya had planned a road trip to Santa Fe, saving every penny from their part-time jobs at the local grocery store. It was their first real adventure without parents, and the feeling of freedom was electric.
After ten hours of driving through endless desert, the girls stopped at a rundown diner called the Cactus Grill. The food was terrible, but the laughter and plans for the next day made up for it. Hannah remembers texting her dad, “Almost there. Love you.” She never imagined it would be the last thing she’d ever say to him.
As they left the diner, the parking lot was nearly empty, lit by a single buzzing fluorescent light. That’s when they saw him—a thin, frantic-eyed man who emerged from behind a pickup truck. He muttered incomprehensible words about voices and messages. Fear gripped Hannah as Maya whispered, “Just give him your purse.” But he didn’t want money. He lunged at them.
It happened in seconds. Hannah felt a sharp pain in her side, not realizing she’d been stabbed. Blood poured out as Maya screamed for help. Police arrived, shots rang out, and the attacker fell. Hannah collapsed, Maya crying over her, begging her to stay awake. Then, everything went quiet.
Crossing the Threshold
In that frozen moment, Hannah describes a profound shift. Time stopped. The flashing lights, Maya’s scream, the officer’s raised gun—all suspended like a photograph. She felt herself lift gently, floating above her own body, above the tragic scene below.
“I was separate from it all,” Hannah recalls. “Then I felt a pull, a gentle but firm tug from behind and above me. The world started to shrink, fading into a tiny pinpoint of light.”
She moved through a tunnel filled with soft, swirling light, warm and peaceful. Emerging from the tunnel, Hannah found herself in a place of pure, radiant light—no walls, no ceiling, no floor. And there, she met Jesus.
“He looked nothing like the pictures,” she says. “No long hair or white robe. His form was made of something I can’t describe. It was like looking at the sun, but if the sun was made of love.”
The air shimmered with a calming hum, the sound of perfect peace. Jesus didn’t speak with words; his voice was a thought, a feeling, a perfect understanding blooming directly in her soul. In his gaze, she felt no judgment, only complete and utter love—a love so powerful it held every atom of her being together.
Seeing the Killer Through New Eyes
But the experience wasn’t just about comfort. Jesus showed Hannah the life of her killer—not as a monster, but as a broken boy. She saw scenes from his childhood: hiding under his bed while his parents screamed, bullied in middle school, small acts of rebellion growing into darker choices. She witnessed the “shadowy whispers” that clung to him, feeding him lies: “No one loves you. You’re worthless. They all deserve to be punished.”
Hannah saw every chance the man was given to turn away from darkness—a kind teacher, a pastor’s gentle touch, a mother’s prayers like golden threads reaching for him. But each time, he rejected the light, choosing anger and despair. Even moments before the murder, a preacher’s message flickered on his TV, a spark of hope quickly extinguished as he changed the channel.
“It wasn’t that God didn’t reach for him,” Hannah realized. “It was that he refused to take the hand that was offered.”
Jesus showed her the final scene: the killer’s spirit, confused and angry, recoiling from the purity of the light. The darkness inside him couldn’t bear the truth. The shadowy whispers, once his companions, became his jailers, dragging him away—not cast into hell, but running from heaven.
And then, Hannah heard something she will never forget: Jesus wept. The sorrow was deep, the grief of a king who had offered countless chances, only to watch a beloved son choose eternal death.
A Vision for America
But Hannah’s journey wasn’t finished. Jesus showed her another vision—this time, of America.
“I saw people in their homes on their phones, screaming at each other. Not with their mouths, but with their hearts. The air was thick with hatred—for politicians, for neighbors who voted differently, for people they’d never even met. The same shadowy whispers fanned the flames of anger, telling everyone, ‘You are right. They are evil. Hate them. Destroy them.’”
Hannah saw people rejecting mercy for their enemies, drinking the same poison that consumed her killer. “They think their anger is righteous, but it is a chain leading them to the same darkness,” Jesus told her.
His gaze was full of love and purpose. “You have to go back, little one,” he said. “Your story is not finished. It is for them. Go and tell them to guard their hearts. Tell them to choose forgiveness before it is too late. Teach them to love.”
Returning to Life
The hardest goodbye of Hannah’s life followed. She didn’t want to leave the peace and love she’d found. But with a command given in perfect love, she returned. The light faded, replaced by pain and cold. She woke in a hospital, surrounded by frantic beeping and shocked medical staff. She had been clinically dead for eleven minutes. Doctors told her parents there was no medical explanation for her survival; she should have suffered massive brain damage, but she was perfectly fine.
The Message
Hannah shares her story for one reason: the message Jesus gave her. He didn’t ask her to preach religion or politics. He asked her to urge people to look inside their own hearts.
“Is there a bitterness there? Is there an unforgiveness you’re holding on to? Is there a person or group of people you hate? That self-righteous anger that feels so good, so justified—that is the poison. It’s the whisper. It’s the same seed of darkness that grew in the heart of the man who killed me.”
She knows it’s hard. But every day, we are offered chances to let go of anger and choose mercy—a chance to pray for someone we disagree with, to forgive someone who hurt us, to turn off the news and love the person right in front of us.
“Please don’t reject those chances,” she pleads. “Don’t keep cutting those golden threads of grace. What he showed me is terrifyingly real. Heaven is real. Hell is real. And the choice every single day is ours.”
A Warning and a Hope
Hannah’s experience is not just a story of tragedy, but a warning—and a hope. In a world increasingly divided by anger and hate, her message is clear: the roots of evil begin in the heart, when mercy is rejected. One small seed of bitterness can poison the soul. But forgiveness and love are always possible, always offered.
As America stands at a crossroads, Hannah’s near-death experience urges us to choose a different path—to guard our hearts, to forgive, and to love. Because, as she learned in the light, the consequences of our choices are real, and every day, the decision is ours.
.
.
.
play video:
