Crazy Pastor Jesse talks about his visit to Heaven in the clip above (found at Christian Nightmares).

The clip reminded me of snippet from a chapter called “Jesus® Will Make You Weird” from Jesus Needs New PR–you know, when Jesus Needs New PR was going to be a book.

Just remember, I wrote this like three years ago…

While some might think the South is the place to go to find God’s wackiest people—and indeed they do manage to live quite well amongst the heat and humidity of organized fundamentalism and confederate-induced pride—the often coveted climate of California also lures a crazy number of JESUS® freaks.

About seven years ago, when I first heard about the charismatic ministry of forty-something Roberts Liardon from a friend of mine, I thought perhaps my friend was exaggerating. I mean, my friend was the same guy who had once tried to convince me to join one of those “businesses cults”; you know, the kind of self-employed business that um, resembles ancient Egyptian architecture and always try to convince you they’re not Amway.

“Man, I’m telling you,” he said, “my business mentor started selling housecleaning products to his friends and neighbors two years ago, and he’s making close to a million a year.”

What I find bizarre is that his rich mentor never quit his day job as a car salesman.

Naturally, when he told me about the ministry of Roberts—a man who was named after Oral Roberts, the televangelist who, in the 1980s, told his followers that he wasn’t leaving his Oklahoma prayer tower until he received a six-figure amount in donations—I thought my friend might be adding more than a little color to the story. But he wasn’t—not at all. Roberts Liardon might very well be crazier than Tom Cruise circa 2006.

The self-proclaimed “internationally recognized speaker and respected leader and author” Roberts believes that God called him into ministry when he was just eight years old. That’s not too big a deal, really; I’ve heard quite a few of stories about people being very young when they receive callings from God, but I must admit, I’d never heard anyone claim that they were called into full-time ministry while engaging in a water fight with Jesus in Heaven.

But that’s the way Roberts explains it in his book I Saw Heaven.

In Heaven, he claims to have spoken to Jesus, who was, as he writes, “about six feet tall, with sandy-brown hair, not real short and not too long.” Roberts’ writes that Jesus came and abducted him in 1974 and took him through the Pearly Gates. For those of you who have small children, don’t worry; according to my sources, Jesus no longer abducts eight-year old boys and girls. This is on account of the Amber Alert system that the United States implemented a few years back. I can only imagine that the alert system would most definitely be a big pain in the butt when it comes to Jesus’ old habit of taking small kids on strange trips to far off places.

But on the contrary, Roberts enjoyed his trip tremendously; and upon arriving in heaven, a place he describes as looking darn near extraordinary, Jesus led him through the Pearly Gates, up the golden streets, then to a crystal clear river where, “He dunked me!” the evangelist writes. “I got back up and splashed Him, and we had a water fight. We splashed each other and laughed.”

Is it just me or is his personal account of meeting Jesus sound a lot like that ABC special news report on Michael Jackson, where the singer is seen waving happily at the camera from the top of a tree? I mean, it certainly causes me to wonder if Roberts actually didn’t go to heaven, but instead, was at Neverland Ranch with Michael, not Jesus. I mean, I know it’s farfetched to think anyone would mistake Michael for Jesus, but the singer himself has certainly done it on several occasions throughout his career so it’s feasible that Roberts might have, too.

But interestingly enough, Roberts’ story gets weirder. After the water fight, Jesus led him to three large storage houses (yes, Jesus has sheds in his backyard), where according to Roberts’ book, the following occurred:

We walked into the first [shed]. As Jesus shut the front door behind us, I looked around the interior in shock!

On one side of the building were exterior parts of the body. Legs hung from the wall, but the scene looked natural, not grotesque. On the other side of the building were shelves filled with eyes, green ones, brown ones, blue ones, and so forth.

The building contained all of the parts of the human body that people on earth need, but Christians have not realized these blessings are waiting in heaven. There is no place else in the universe for these parts to go except right here on earth; no one else needs them.

Jesus said to me, “These are the unclaimed blessings. This building should not be full. It should be emptied. You should come in here with faith and get the needed parts for you, and the people you will come in contact with that day.” [pages 42-43.]

The unclaimed blessings are there in those storehouses—all of the parts of the body people might need: hundreds of new eyes, legs, skin, hair, eardrums — they are all there. All you have to do is go in and get what you need by the arm of faith, because it is there.

My favorite part of Roberts’ excerpt is his description of how the “legs hung from the wall.” I like that part because it seems that as soon as he wrote that line, he realized the insanity of what he’d written. But instead of hitting backspace or delete like most writers do when they’re words and/or thoughts overtly frighten us for no apparent reason, he instead tries to comfort us with this sentiment: “But the scene looked natural.”

Now, whether or not you agree with Roberts’s “scene” analysis being natural is contingent on your thoughts about the movie Silence of the Lambs and whether or not you feel that hanging body parts are ever natural.

So… what do you think? Does God give people promotional tours of Heaven?