What if everything you call ordinary life is merely the calm before eternity?
What if, in an instant, those who were by your side vanish — and you're left alone, with pain, questions, and emptiness?
This is not fiction. Not a movie. This is reality — seen with her own eyes by a woman named Elena Martins.
She’s not a prophet. Not a celebrity. Just a person God led through the gates between life and eternity — to warn others.
If you’re hearing this, know:
You still have time. But it’s running out…
This video didn’t come to you by chance. Watch it to the end. Don’t scroll past. Don’t treat it like just another clip.
Because what you’ll hear may change your eternity.
Now — her story, told in the first person.
My name is Elena Martins. I’m 39 years old, and I’ve been serving as an intercessor in my local church for over a decade. All my life, I believed I was on the right path: I prayed, read Scripture, attended services. I tried to do everything a faithful Christian should.
But just two months ago, everything changed. I suddenly needed emergency surgery. And during the procedure, my heart stopped... for a full four minutes, according to the doctors. Just a few minutes of clinical death — yet what I experienced felt like an eternity.
I left my body and found myself before Jesus. What He showed me brought me to tears and trembling. My life would never be the same.
He showed me the church… the one that will be left behind after the Rapture. And the most terrifying part was this — it looked attractive, modern, even impressive… but inside, it was empty. Spiritually empty.
I felt as if I were drifting between two worlds. There was lightness — but also unbearable weight. Silence that screamed. Then I felt His presence. I couldn’t see Him clearly, but my spirit instantly recognized — it was Jesus. As He approached, the whole atmosphere changed. Everything seemed to bow before Him. His gaze pierced through me: full of love, justice, sorrow… and urgency.
He silently reached out His hand — and in a moment, we were elsewhere. It looked like a city, but Jesus said: “Look, this is the spiritual reality of many churches that will remain.” I saw massive buildings, beautiful facades, stages, lights, music, applause… but inside, God was absent. People were celebrating, singing, clapping — but His presence was not there.
Then Jesus spoke. His voice was like thunder and honey at once:
“They speak of Me, but do not know Me.
They sing to Me, but do not worship.
They seek Me, but do not thirst for Me.”
I saw a pulpit. The preacher was charismatic, cheerful, inspiring. People applauded — but what came from his mouth was not light, but gray smoke. Jesus said:
“I have not rejected them.
They rejected My light.
They preach a gospel where I am a friend, but not a King.
Where salvation comes without the cross.
Where there’s no need to deny self, obey, or change.”
He showed me churches where leaders are respected — but in the spiritual realm, angels turn away from them. Where Scripture is quoted like a slogan, but no one confronts sin.
“They will remain,” He said sadly, “not because of lack of love — but because of lack of obedience.”
He showed me the hearts of people in those churches: full of busyness, ambition, concern for appearance and status. Others — simply hollow, only form without life.
Then He led me to another place — where the church that will be taken was. It was a simple home. A few people on their knees, in tears, with open Bibles. They cried out, prayed for the lost, and sought only one thing — God.
I felt the Holy Spirit's presence stronger than ever. It was glory, weight, holiness. Jesus smiled:
“They know Me. They are ready.
Not because they are perfect,
but because they thirst for Me above all else.”
He showed me that it's not the size of the church, not the fame of the pastor, not the outward structure that determines who will be taken — but only the heart’s devotion, sincerity, and thirst.
He said:
“The Rapture will be sudden.
The greatest shock will be for those who were sure they’d be taken…
But I will only take those who truly love Me above all else.”
I saw broken families — marriages on the brink because of unforgiveness. Fathers who never found time to pray with their children. Mothers spiritually burned out, left without support. Youth raised in church but who never knew God personally — only followed rules without a living relationship with Him. Families that don’t pray together become vulnerable to the deception of the final days.
Jesus wept. He showed me how the culture of entertainment had filled homes. People spend more time on their phones than in the Word, more with Netflix than in prayer, more with TikTok than at the Lord’s Table. They say they have no time for Him — yet spend hours in front of screens.
He took me to a theological seminary. Men and women were discussing doctrines, analyzing ancient texts, proposing theories. But with spiritual eyes, I saw an altar where the fire had gone out. “They have replaced anointing with knowledge,” Jesus said. “They know the letter, but do not have the Spirit.”
I saw leaders mocking miracles, rejecting the gifts, despising fasting. Yet they were the ones training new ministers — with the same critical and empty spirit. The Bible had become an object of analysis, not a tool of transformation. In many places, the Word had been watered down — to avoid offense, to attract crowds. Verses pulled out of context, doctrines softened, calls to repentance replaced with motivational messages.
“My Gospel doesn’t need adaptation,” the Lord said. “It needs to be obeyed.”
He brought me again to that grand temple that looked like a successful church. People were crying — but it was regret, not repentance. Applauding — but it was vanity, not worship. The church’s growth came with pride, not the filling of the Holy Spirit. Jesus said with sorrow:
“They will be left behind. Not because they didn’t hear — but because they didn’t obey.
Not because they didn’t know — but because they never gave Me their hearts.”
I saw the moment of the Rapture. In that church, only three people were taken. The choir kept singing. The service went on as if nothing had happened. But in the spiritual realm, heaven was already closed.
Jesus turned to me and said:
“This is why you must go back.
Tell them: I’m not coming for temples — I’m coming for broken hearts.
I don’t need performance — I need presence.
Not impressiveness — but obedience.”
With tears in His eyes, He added:
“Many believe they are ready.
But when I come, they will realize they were busy with My name — yet forgot My face.”
He showed me the earth from above. Everything seemed normal — but it was the calm before eternity. I saw cities:
New York — people obsessed with fashion and status.
Lagos — full churches, but lacking reverence.
Paris — crowds of tourists, laughter, photos.
São Paulo — a church drawn to a preacher’s fame, not God’s presence.
The world was breathing illusion.
“Most of those who think this day is ordinary,” Jesus said, “do not know it’s the last day they will ever see the world as it is.”
Heaven held its breath. Then it opened — not like a cloud, but like a tear between worlds. Light — not lightning, but doors into eternity. And in the center — Jesus, in glory, shining brighter than anything ever seen. Millions of angels surrounded Him, not singing — but waiting.
The trumpet sounded. Only the reborn heard it. People began to rise: in rooms, forests, subways, nursing homes. Some vanished; others left behind their clothes. Families torn apart: a mother taken, children left. A son ascended, parents remained. Husbands stayed, wives wept. One brother was raptured, the other left behind. Those who mocked “fanatics” now knew — it was truth.
Crying rose like a cloud. Jesus showed me churches. In a majestic cathedral, only two women disappeared. The bishop remained. In a Pentecostal church — half were taken, half were left. In a modern church — no one was taken. Yet the service continued as if nothing had happened.
A preacher stood in shock: “Lord, I preached! I prayed!” And heard: “I never knew you.” Jesus showed me: they knew His name, but had not accepted His Kingdom. They belonged to religion — not to the Kingdom.
On the streets — chaos. Car crashes, planes falling, people vanishing. Witchcraft, possession, violence. People sought explanations. The world faced a global catastrophe. Leaders gathered. A charismatic figure emerged — promised new enlightenment, called for the abandonment of “outdated beliefs.”
They introduced the mark. Not just a chip — but a spiritual covenant with darkness. Whoever accepted it was eternally separated. Some rejoiced. Others resisted — they were hunted. Some finally believed. But the Holy Spirit no longer moved as before. I saw hiding places: caves, homes, basements filled with prayer. People reading torn Bible pages like gold. Jesus said:
“They will be saved — at the cost of their lives.”
I saw martyrs: they were executed, but they sang. Children prayed, soldiers wept. In heaven, Jesus rose from His throne:
“They missed the first flight — but became My martyrs.
I will reward them for every drop of their blood.”
He turned to me:
“Elena, tell everything. Do not soften it.
My sheep will hear My voice.”
I returned to my body — among machines, doctors, family. I wept. Not from pain — but from eternity. “Lord, why did You show me all this?”
“Because you are ready.
Because you don’t compromise truth.
Because you fear Me — and know Me.”
Every heartbeat now is a mission. I can’t stay silent anymore. I preach wherever I can. I tell everyone. Some laugh. One nurse cried — he had walked away from faith and realized this was God’s call.
“Not everyone will believe,” said the Lord,
“But Mine — will hear.”