NOTE: This came to me in an email. Please send a link to anyone you think might benefit from it. Chris
THE ROOM...
In that place between
wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no
distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with
small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that
list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these
files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly
endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. As I
drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was
one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and
began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to
realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then
without being told, I knew exactly where I was.
This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog
system of my life. Here were written the actions of my every
moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A
sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred
within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their
content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of
shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to
see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends
I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the
outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have
Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have
Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness:
"Things I've yelled at my brothers". Others I couldn't
laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things
I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents."
I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were
many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I
was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
Could it be possible that I had the time in my 20 years to write
each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card
confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting.
Each signed with my signature.
When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I have listened to,"
I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards
were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't
found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the
quality of music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew that
file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt
a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch,
not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at
its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had
been recorded. An almost animal rage\line broke on me.
One thought dominated my mind: "No one must ever see these
cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!"
In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't mattered
now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at
one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge
a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to
find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and
utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my
forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.
And then I saw it. The title bore "People I Have Shared the
Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it,
newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not
more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the
cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began
to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and
shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of
shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file
shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever
know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.
But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not
Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He
began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to
watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to
look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to
intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every
one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He
looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that
didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands
and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me.
He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He
just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of
files. Starting at one\line .end of the room, He took out a file
and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.
"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say
was "No, no, " as I pulled the card from Him. His name
shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so
rich, so dark, so alive.
The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He
gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to
sign the cards. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it
so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the
last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my
shoulder and said, "It is finished."
I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on
its door. There were still cards to be written.
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."
Phil. 4:13
This story is the best e-mail story I have ever read.
"For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that
whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."
John 3:16
If you feel the same way
forward it to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will
touch their lives also.
My "People I shared the gospel with" file, just got
bigger;.
Author Unknown