The Room

Something i recently read from a book, a dream the author of the book dreamt...

in the place between wakefulness and reams, i found myself in the room. there were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with small index-card files.

they were like the ones in libraries that list titles by aurhtor or subject in alphabetical order. but hese files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very differetn 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 throuh the cards. i quckly 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 action sof my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldnt match.

a sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horro, stirred within me, as i began randomly opening files and exploring their contents. some brought joy and sweet memories, others a sense of shame and regret so intesne 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 wierd: "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 ive yelled at my brothers". others i couldnt laugh at: "things i have done in 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 there were fewer than i hoped.

i was overwhelmed b the sheer volume of the life i had lived. could it be possible that i had the time in my twenty years to write each of these thousands, possibly 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 realised the files grew to contain their contetns. the cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, i hadnt found the end of the file. i shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of the msuic, but more by the vast amount of time i knew that file represented. ..................................

......................... suddenly i felt an almost animal rage. one thought dominated my mind: "no one must every see these cards! no one must ever see this room! i have to destroy them!" in an insane frenzy i yanked the file out. its size didnt matternow. i had to empty it and burn the cards. but as i took the file 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 along 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 startd 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 couldnt 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 didnt 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 didnt say a word. he just cried with me.

then he go up and walked back to the wall fo 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 shouldnt 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 continued to sign the cards. i dont think ill 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.

this story struck me deeply. all our days are written in His book. every word spoken, every smile and tear, every good or bad deed done, every thing we have said and done from life's first cry to final breath will be recorded.

and how much time do we spend with God, reaching out to the lost, reading the bible, worshipping Him in service, loving those around us like He loved? for many as well as for me, i believe its just about the same size as the file that said "people i have shared the gospel with"

why is it so easy to read a novel, but so difficult to pick up the bible, so easy to watch the television but so difficult to listen to a sermon without falling asleep, so easy to remember lyrics of a famous pop song but yet forget all the hymns we have sung?

imagine the size of the files in which we spend our time idling around, doing nothing purposeful in life. is that how we want to be judged when we come to the end of time, when God looks through all the life cards and sees all the useless things you have done. or do we want to hear His voice "well done my good and faithful servant"

Jesus paid the price of all our sins on that cross, where His blood was shed. He loves us with an everlasting love, even while we were yet sinners, He died for us. friends, how are we living our lives today? are we truly living for our savior? do we really know what i meant to love Him? or are we still living a life full of sin, worldliness, choosing to be like everyone else. what does it mean to you to be set apart for Jesus?

Rom 12:2 And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.

sad at the thought of all the files that are useless, vanity of vanities, yet really thankful that He loved us so much to sacrifice His life to erase our name and put His on it. knowing this is just overwhelming, but i know that i want to change the way i live. i want to love Him more and more, to give my best, my all, my precious time to my savior, to increase the size of the small and unused files as mentioned above, not for my own benefit, but because I love Him and it is truly worth our lives.

many will read this, feeling ashamed, but choosing not to act upon it.the real question is: will you change the way you are living today?

in His love,
a sister in Christ