THREE TISSUES ONE

[Guest guest]

A TRUE STORY...ENJOY IT...

The Room

17-year-old had only a short time to

write something for a class. The subject as 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.

's parents had forgotten about the essay when a

cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's

locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway

County. 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 's death that Beth

and Bruce 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. said.

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 s framed a copy of '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. said of the essay. She and her husband

want to share their son's vision of life after

death. " I'm happy for . I know he's in heaven.

I know I'll see him.

'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 EMAIL 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!

>> 3:16 " For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son, that

whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life. " >>I believe that

God did this for me but he also did it for you if you didn't know that he did

this for YOU before you do now we all have our own " room " of cards I know I have

some things I'm ashamed of in those files and so does everyone else but there

are good things in those same files THINK ABOUT IT >