(CS4U) PRAISE JESUS

  

 

 

"THE ROOM," as  written by a 17 Year old Boy.
This  is  excellent and really gets you thinking  about what will happen in Heaven.   

 

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a  class.

The  subject was: " What Heaven Was Like".
 "I wowed 'em," he later told his Father,

Bruce.  It's a killer. It's the bomb! It's the best thing I ever wrote."

It also was the  last.
Brian's parents had  forgotten about the essay
When a  cousin found it  while cleaning out the teenager's locker at  Teays
Valley High School in Pickaway County. 

Brian had been dead only hours.
His  parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes
From classmates and  teachers and his homework.

Only two months  before, he had handwritten the essay about

 encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards  detailing every moment of the teen's life.

 But  it was only after Brian's Death that Beth and  Bruce Moore realized that their son had
 described his view of  heaven.

It makes such an impact that people want to share  it.

 "You feel like you are there," Mr. Moore said.

 Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, which was the Day after Memorial Day.

He was driving home from a friend's house when his
Car went off  Bulen - Pierce Road in Pickaway County and  struck a utility Pole.

He emerged from the wreck  unharmed but stepped on a downed power lineand  was electrocuted.

The  Moore 's framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung  it among the family
portraits in the living  room.

"I think God used him to make a point. I
Think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said
of the essay. She and her husband want to share their  son's vision of life after death.

"I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see Him."
Here is  Brian's essay entitled:

   "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 endless 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 for 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 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 years to fill 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 "TV Shows I Have Watched,"

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 shows but more by the vast 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 it's size, and drew out a card.

I shuddered at it's detailed content.  I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.
An almost animal rage 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 matter 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 it's 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 they hurt.
They 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 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,  and 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.

"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, how about yours?

IF  THERE IS ONE E'MAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS  TO GO AROUND THE WORLD,
IT IS THIS ONE.

 PLEASE  PASS THIS TO EVERY ONE YOU KNOW,
 CHRISTIAN OR NOT!

"LET'S FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD" AND MAY
        GOD  BLESS YOU ALL!

You  don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you
did or not, but you will  know and so will He.

 

 

WHEN YOU HAVE THIS ON FORWARD PLEASE DELETE MY (and any other) E-MAIL ADDRESS AND SEND USING BCC not CC.  (If you must put an address in the TO: field put your own, though most programs don't require this).  THIS PREVENTS HACKING AND SPAM. BY USING BCC NO OTHER E-MAILS ARE SHOWN EXCEPT TO EACH INDIVIDUAL WHO YOU SEND IT TO. 

THANK YOU.

 

 

 

 

 


 

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