As you read this story please put yourself in Brian's place;
it will change your life!
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?
IF THERE IS ONE ARTICLE THAT I
HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD, IT IS THIS ONE,
PLEASE
PASS
THIS TO
EVERYONE YOU KNOW,
CHRISTIAN OR NOT!
LET'S FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD" AND
MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
Thank
you for visiting DIVINE HEALTH
A Division of antibioticfailure.com
We
Proudly sponsor 90.9 KSWP " TODAY'S
CHRISTIAN MUSIC FOR YOUR FAMILY
and 91.9 KAVX Christian Talk Radio "A
VOICE TO CHRIST"
We
Welcome your questions!!
Kris
Barringer 936 634-9777 **Toll Free 866-543-2563
Visit
the Divine Health Home Page For Christian views on Health
News Click Here
For
more information on any of 4Life’s™ products, please
feel free to contact us. Use your back button to return
to the homepage that contains our contact information.
If you have any questions or need assistance with ordering,
we are pleased to help you in any way we can.
