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Ärende: THE ROOM
================
From: "Bob Hoffman" <bhoffma@greyhound.com>
To: <maureen.hoffman@fmlynet.org>
Cc: <bbbs@fmlynet.org>, <bhoffman@fmlynet.org>
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THE ROOM=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
Brian's Essay: The Room...=20
=20
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.=20 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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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?=20 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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
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.=20
=20
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13"=20
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.=20
My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about =
yours?=20
=20
IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE=20 WORLD, IT
IS THIS ONE, PLEASE PASS THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW, CHRISTIAN=20 OR NOT! "LET'S
FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD" AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!=20
=20
=20
=20
=20
You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you = did
or not, but you will know and so will He.
=20
=20
=20
Bob Hoffman
Manager Voice/Video Technology
214-849-8668
--=_64440225.42235B5E
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<DIV><FONT size=3D1>THE ROOM <BR> <BR>17-year-old Brian Moore =
had only a=20
short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was =
like.=20
"I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the =
bomb.=20
It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was the last. <BR> <BR>Bria=
n's=20
parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while = cleaning
out=20
the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian had been =
dead=20
only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life =
near=20
them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework. <BR> <BR>Only =
two=20
months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a =
file=20
room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was =
only=20
after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son = had=20
described his view of heaven. "It makes such an impact that people want to =
share=20
it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said. <BR> <BR>Brian = Moore
died=20
May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a =
friend's=20
house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and = struck
a=20
utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed =
power=20
line and was electrocuted. <BR> <BR>The Moores framed a copy of =
Brian's=20
essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think =
God=20
used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and = make=20
something out of it, " Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband = want
to=20
share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know =
he's=20
in heaven. I know I'll see him. <BR> <BR>Brian's Essay: The Room...=20=
<BR> <BR>In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself =
in=20
the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall =
covered=20
with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that =
list=20
titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. <BR>But these files, =
which=20
stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, =
had=20
very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to = catch
my=20
attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began =
flipping=20
through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized =
the=20
names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly = where
I=20
was. <BR> <BR>This lifeless room with its small files was a crude =
catalog=20
system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every = moment,
big=20
and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and=20
curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly =
opening=20
files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; =
others a=20
sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to =
see=20
if anyone was watching. <BR> <BR>A file named "Friends" was next to =
one=20
marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to =
the=20
outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I =
have=20
Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some were almost hilarious in their=20
exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh =
at:=20
"Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath = at
My=20
Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. <BR> <BR>Oft=
en=20
there were many more cards than I expected sometimes fewer than I hoped. I =
was=20
overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it = be=20
possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands = or
even=20
millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in =
my=20
own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. <BR> <BR>When I = pulled
out=20
the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to =
contain=20
their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three =
yards,=20
I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by = the=20
quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.=20=
<BR> <BR>When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a =
chill=20
run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to = test
its=20
size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. <BR> <B=
R>I=20
felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal =
rage=20
broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these = cards!
No=20
one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I =
yanked=20
the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the =
cards.=20
But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could =
not=20
dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to =
find=20
it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. <BR> <BR>Defeated = and=20
utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead =
against=20
the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. <BR> <BR>And then I = saw
it.=20
The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was =
brighter=20
than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a =
small=20
box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the =
cards=20
it contained on one hand. <BR> <BR>And then the tears came. I began =
to=20
weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook =
through=20
me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelmi=
ng=20
shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. = No
one=20
must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But =
then=20
as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. <BR> <BR>No, please not Him. =
Not=20
here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the =
files=20
and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the = moments
I=20
could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. =
He=20
seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every =
one?=20
<BR>Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at =
me=20
with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped =
my=20
head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over =
and=20
put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't = say
a=20
word. He just cried with me. <BR> <BR>Then He got up and walked back = to
the=20
wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, = one
by=20
one, began to sign His name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted = rushing
to=20
Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. =
His=20
name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so = rich,
so=20
dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His =
blood.=20
He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the =
cards.=20
I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the = next=20
instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my =
side.=20
<BR> <BR>He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished."=
I=20
stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. =
There=20
were still cards to be written. <BR> <BR>"I can do all things = through=20
Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13" </FONT></DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=3D1>For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, =
that=20
whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." If you = feel
the=20
same way forward it to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will =
touch=20
their lives also. </FONT></DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV><FONT size=3D1>My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got =
bigger, how=20
about yours? <BR> <BR>IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT = NEEDS
TO=20
GO AROUND THE <BR>WORLD, IT IS THIS ONE, PLEASE PASS THIS TO EVERYONE YOU =
KNOW,=20
CHRISTIAN <BR>OR NOT! "LET'S FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD" AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU =
ALL!=20
<BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR>You don't have to share this =
with=20
anybody, no one will know whether you did or not, but you will know and so =
will=20
He.<BR> <BR> <BR> <BR></DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV> </DIV>
<DIV>Bob Hoffman<BR>Manager Voice/Video=20
Technology<BR>214-849-8668</FONT></DIV></BODY></HTML>
--=_64440225.42235B5E--
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