Monday, January 16, 2006
Monday16.01.06The RoomIn 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 indexcard 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 endlessly 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 "Guys 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 in that moment, without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalogue 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 contenst. 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. "TV shows I have Watched," "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: "People I Have Hurt 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 thesethousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting, signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "Books I have read, "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 the books but more by the vast time I knew that file represented-- the vast time wasted. When I came to a file marked "Hateful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drewout 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! How could I live with this knowledge? How could I have even LIVED these things?! 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 couldnot 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, shuddering sigh. And then I saw it... The title read,"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 fear, frustration, disappointment, sorrow. And mostly, I cried 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. Blameless, sinless, pure.Jesus, who was called the Christ. I lowered my eyes, not daring to meet His, yet i knew He could see right through me, to the darkest secrets of my soul. 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 moment 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,c overed my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put Hi sarm around me. He could have said so many things, rebuked me so many times. But He didn't say a word. He just sat there with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of theroom, 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. It wasn't supposed to be there, it couldn't be there. How could He, so pure and blameless, bear to sign over those shameful cards? But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine, written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I watched in mixed horror, relief and awe as He slowly worked His way through the files. I didn't understand how He could bear to take all the blame, all the shame of all I had done. Then, I realised He didn't sign His name on some of the cards. He skipped the file "People I have helped" completely. He didn't take the good, yet He covered all the bad.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." John 3:16
Posted by nayrakroarual at 7:51 PM
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