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| yawn... i slept 4 over 16 hours 2day... im so glad i aint in football ... 4 day weekend!!!! ... b day in 2weeks... | | |
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| THE ROOM
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 Teary Valley High School. Brian had been
dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life
near them-notes from classmates and teachers, 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, 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 line and was electrocuted.
The Moores 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.
Brian's Essay: 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 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 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 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 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 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 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, 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 "For God
so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him
shall not perish but have eternal life." 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? | | |
| "...oh where, oh where can my baby be... the Lord took her away frum me... shes gone 2 heaven so i got 2 be good...so i can c my baby when i leave this world..."
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| Heaven's New Policy |
It was getting a little crowded in Heaven, so God decided to change the admittance policy. The new law was that, in order to get into Heaven, you had to have a really bad day when you died. The policy would go into effect at noon the next day. The next day at 12:01, the first person came to the gates of Heaven. The Angel at the gate, remembering the new policy, promptly said to the man, "Before I let you in, I need you to tell me how your day was going when you died."
"No problem," the man said. "I came home to my 25th floor apartment on my lunch hour and caught my wife half naked. She appeared to be having an affair, but her lover was nowhere in sight. I immediately began searching for him. My wife was yelling at me as I searched the entire apartment. Just as I was about to give up, I happened to glance out onto the balcony and noticed that there was a man hanging off the edge by his fingertips! The nerve of that guy! Well, I ran out onto the balcony and stomped on his fingers until he fell to the ground. But wouldn't you know it, he landed in some trees and bushes that broke his fall and he didn't die. This pissed me off even more. In a rage, I went back inside to get the first thing I could get my hands on to throw at him. Oddly enough, the first thing I thought of was the refrigerator. I unplugged it, pushed it out onto the balcony, and tipped it over the side. It plummeted 25 stories and crushed him! The excitement of the moment was so great that I had a heart attack and died almost instantly."
The Angel sat back and thought a moment. Technically, the guy did have a bad day. It was a crime of passion. So,the Angel announced, "Ok, sir. Welcome to the Kingdom of Heaven," and let him in.
A few seconds later the next guy came up. The Angel said, "Before I can let you in, I need to hear about what your day was like when you died."
"No problem," said the second man. "But you're not going to believe this. I was on the balcony of my 26th floor apartment doing my daily exercises. Having been under a lot of pressure I was really pushing hard to relieve my stress. I guess I got a little carried away, slipped, and accidentally fell over the side! Luckily, I was able to catch myself by the fingertips on the balcony below mine. But all of a sudden this crazy man comes running out of his apartment, started cussing, and stomps on my fingers. Well, of course I fell. I hit some trees and bushes at the bottom which broke my fall so I didn't die right away. As I'm laying there face up on the ground, unable to move, and in excruciating pain, I see this guy push his refrigerator, of all things, off the balcony. It falls the 25 floors and lands on top of me, killing me instantly."
The Angel is quietly laughing to himself as the man finishes his story. "I could get used to this new policy," he thinks to himself. "Very well," the Angel announces. "Welcome to the Kingdom of Heaven," and he lets the man enter.
A few seconds later, a third man comes up to the gate. The angel says," Please tell me how you died." The third man says,"Ok, picture this. I'm naked, hiding inside a refrigerator...." | | | |
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