 He did
it...
...Just
for You!
|
In that place between wakefulness
and dreams I found myself in this room. There were no
distinguishing features, but one wall was covered with small index
card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list the
titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But the files
were stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in
either direction, and had very different headings.
As I drew near the walls of files, the first
to catch my attention was one that read "people 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 it's small files was a crude
catalog system for my life. Here were written 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 the 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 have yelled at my brother", others I couldn't
laugh at "Things I have done in my anger", Things I have
muttered under my breath at my parents". It never ceased to
surprise me of the contents. Often there were many more cards than
I expected. Some fewer than I had 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
short life to write each of these thousands or even millions of
cards? But each one confirmed this truth. Each was written in my
own handwriting. Each one signed with my own signature.
When I came to the 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 a
card out. 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 an
insane frenzy I yanked the file out. It's size didn't matter now.
I have to empty and burn the cards!
But as I took it at one end and began
pounding it on the floor, I couldn't 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 file that
bore the title "People I have shared the gospel with"
The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost
unused. I pulled on it's handle and a small box not more than 3
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 started in my stomach and shook through
me. I fell to my knees and cried. I cried 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 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 that
pity 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 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 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 on every card, it
was written in blood.
He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad
smile and finished signing the cards. I don't think I'll ever
understand how he did that so quickly, but the next instant it
seemed I heard him close the last file and walk back to my side.
He placed his hands on my shoulder and said "It is
finished."
I stood up, and he led me out of the room.
There was no lock on it's door.
As I awoke, I realized that there were still
cards to be written.
Author Unknown
