I wanted to share this with yall

[GeorgiaVol]

[blockquote]A TEENAGER'S VIEW OF 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 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, seemed 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 I 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
so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also.. My 'People I shared
the gospel with' file just got bigger,
how about yours? [/blockquote]

 

[Angelpeace]

How Beautiful! I just finished reading this to Jamie and he wanted me to get back to you immediately, and I wanted to as well. Jamie said, "This is what I've been trying to tell everyone. This is what I wanted them to understand. One day I'm going to have a file and I want my "shared the Gospel with others" file to be bursting at the seams." Ditto for me, as well.Thank you GeorgiaVol for sharing this with us and all the others here. If you don't mind we'll be printing out a copy of this so that we can make more copies and share with everyone we know. May God richly Bless you for this and all you do for others.
Peace to everyone,
Angelpeace and Glassman

 

[cordilleran]

Read the short essay with interest. It reminds me of a Near-Death Experience (NDE) before the fact. A self-fulfilling prophesy? Perhaps. I recall decades ago a similar experience. I was travelling after a night of revelry on the back of a 1948 panhead motorcycle. Rural New Mexico. The operator of the high-powered motorcycle was a neighbor. About a dozen people of all stripes lived in this ghosttown out in the sticks. From the get-go a inner voice emphatically told me not once but three times not to get on the motorcycle. I was some 14 miles from my destination, it was after midnight and a chance was in order. We stopped at a small backwoods bar at the crossroads to play a game or two of pool. Home was now walking distance. About two miles. We likely drunk some more beer. The operator wanted to purchase some more beer -- a case -- and I remember holding it on my lap as we ascended the narrow paved road heading home. I also remember looking over his shoulder and telling him to slow down. He was topping 55 miles-per-hour and road conditions and his altered state-of-consciousness was not a safe mix. We slammed into a metal floatation tank for separating slurried mined minerals through the cyanide process. Four inches of unrelenting iron. A car behind us witnessed the entire accident. I flew over the operator and hit the tank head first. No helmet. I then bounced off the tank striking my head again on the middle of the pavement. Again I bounced up and wound up in a drainage ditch 25 feet from the tank. The motorcycle's operator had broken his hip. The bike was totaled; even the V-Twin engine was cracked. Occupants of the car said I got up from the ditch went to the downed operator and removed the wreckage from atop him. The driver of the automobile was now out of the car and asked me if I was alright. "I'm OK," I said. I then collapsed again hitting my head on the asphalt. Here's where it gets interesting.

I'm suddenly in a tunnel. I'm standing up and before me is the brightest light I'd ever seen. Strangely, it didn't hurt my eyes. I know I am in a tunnel because there's the slight sensation of air movement around me coursing toward the light. At this moment I'm aware of what had just transpired with the accident. I still don't know where I am however. I hear voices. Voices of people I loved in an earlier life, now dead, taking about me. "Never expected him here this soon," one said. Another queried, "I wonder what will happen"? Funny, but the voices were always just behind me, talking in muted tones. I attempted to turn around to face the voices but that strange disc of bright, white light was always before me. At this time a voice filled my very essence saying "Your time is not now; return; you have things to do". I came out of a coma after three days. Seemed just like a few moments. I lost consciousness a few seconds later, but never returned to this place I describe. Gradually, my consciousness grew longer in duration and after a week, I was released with a jar full of codeine pills for my broken back. Just one week after my release I stumbled from my residence two miles distant collapsing upon their kitchen floor. I was med-evac'd to El Paso for emergency brain surgery to save my life once again. You see, I had been bleeding from a massive subdural hematoma all along and hospital staffers failed to check diagnostically despite the fact that I had sustained a six-inch skull fracture and had "doll's eyes" upon admittance (Glascow Coma Scale = bad news). But that's a different story all its own. The message I was left upon revivification? Death is painless; you'll meet up with loved ones to assist you passage; and all your questions here on earth will find answers. The roller coaster hasn't stopped since then and this happened in 1982. I've lived three lifetimes. I'm looking forward to a rest sometime -- once I've done what I am supposed to do.

 

[Digswithstick]

GeorgiaVol ,thanks for sharing that inspiring essay and story !Cordilleran ,thanks for sharing yours as well .

 

[Dean]

GeorgiaVol ,thanks for sharing that inspiring essay and story !Cordilleran ,thanks for sharing yours as well .

Amen!! I too have a similar testimony as Star knows. Briefly stating, I was given a 10 per cent chance of survival in 1978 from a brain tumor involving a 9 1/2 surgery that had not been performed before that time and was completely blind in one eye but now have 20/20 vision there. The road was bumpy but as long as you have Him as the driver, you have it made. God Bless All, Dean

 

[RedGinger]

Wow, is this a true story? I'm not religious, but it does evoke that feeling that whatever God you believe in, he loves us. I wish I had that kind of faith. I think it makes life a lot easier for the people that do. Thanks for the story.
I don't want to get into a big theological discussion, but what is to be learned from the bad things that have happened to us? I think some things are just random. I have learned how to live with pain, but it has not done a thing for me.

 

[Dean]

Hi RedGinger,
The bad things and good are nothing more than tests and trials for us to learn to overcome by trusting in Him. Unfortunately some never learn. I am a strong Christian of the Baptist faith and owe my all to Him. Have a great day in Christ, Dean

 

[Angelpeace]

Thanks Cordilleran for sharing your story. I, too, have had two similar experiences, and God even blessed me with an opportunity to speak with my dad, who died when I was six, during one of those experiences.
Redginger my favorite definition of Faith is: "Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." I guess some of us have been blessed with a glimpse.
Bless you all and I love you all.
Peace,
Angelpeace

 

[glass man]

HOWDY![] I WRESTLED NINA TO THE GROUND AND HAVE HER TIED UP JUST LONG ENOUGH FOR ME TO GET ON HERE. NAW SHE IS ADDICTED TO THIS GREAT PLACE AND THAT IS FINE CAUSE I HAVE HAD A LOT OF FUN ON HERE ALREADY. AT TIMES ALMOST TOO MUCH FUN! IN GA. VOLS. GREAT STORY OF HOW REDEMPTION WORKS ,THE PERSON HAD FILES THAT WERE SHAMEFUL. LORD I KNOW BOUT THAT! I WILL HAVE A HUGE ROOM OF FILES LIKE THAT! THE GREAT THING IS NO MATTER HOW BIG OR LITTLE THE FILE WHEN YOUR FAITH IS IN JESUS IT ENDS THE SAME. THE THING IS ALL HAVE A FILE THAT IS DISPLEASING TO GOD ,EVEN IF JUST A SMALL FOLDER. JUST ONE BAD PAPER DOES IT OR JUST ONE WRONG THING! SOME COME TO KNOW JESUS ,NOT BECAUSE OF DIRE CIRCUMSTANCES,BUT JUST BECAUSE THEY REALIZE THEY DON'T KNOW HIM AND WANT TOO....SEEK AND YOU SHALL FIND. IT IS THE EASIEST THING TO DO AND THE HARDEST THING TO LIVE ,BUT HE HELPS YOU. ANY WAY JUST WANT TO SAY I AM SO GLAD THIS OLE HIPPIE FREAK KNOWS HIM ! AS FOR BEING A BOTTLE COLLECTOR,IT IS A BONUS IN MY LIFE! SOMETIMES I HAVE HAD THEM AND THEN SOMEN COMES ALONG AND I GOTTA SELL EM! THE 1ST TIME THAT HAPPENED IT WAS HARD TO LET THEM BABIES GO! STILL AIN'T EASY! IT SAYS THAT ALL GOOD THINGS COME FROM GOD AND TO ME ,BOTTLES ARE A GOOD THING ! WHEN I GOTTEM I FEEL BLESSED AND WHEN I DON'T I FEEL BLESSED TO HAVE HAD THEM AND KNOW I WILL HAVE THEM AGAIN,EVEN IF IT IS JUST CULLS FROM THE LOCAL DUMP! HEY THEM ORPHANS NEED A HOME TOO![&:] SO GOD BLESS YA AND MAY HE BLESS YA WITH BOTTLES! WANT BE HERE SO MUCH AS IT IS NINA'S TURN TO HAVE FUN! PLEASE BE KIND TO HER AS SHE IS THE BEST CHRISTIAN I HAVE EVER KNOWN! [&:] JAMIE

 

[Stardust]

AMEN! I too have had NDE and I'm very Blessed! I too went there, came back, for my children. The feeling was so beautiful and I wanted to go, but I was released because I had to come back to take care of my children. They had so much to teach me and i had much to teach them. Only a few here really know my story my pain, illness, and what ever life has handed me.

redginger all this has brought me closer to my Faith. It has allowed me a chance to take a bad hand of cards, and play them out the best way possible. Making teaching moments, finding friends with wisdom I never knew. Sometimes, I think our pain is a gift in disquise. It makes us become educated and more sensitive to others, caring and willing to open our hearts to others in pain.