A Teen's Deep Thought

Discussion in 'Youth Forum' started by Smellin Coffee, Apr 7, 2002.

  1. Smellin Coffee

    Smellin Coffee
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    The following is an e-mail I received recently. The story about the young man involved is true and shows how deep a thinker a teenager can be.

    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'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. Only two
    months before, he had handwritten the essay. 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.

    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 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 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 an 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?
     
  2. Brother Adam

    Brother Adam
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    Hrm...It seems like I've heard this story before 1997, I could be wrong, but I'm interested in what kindof verification there is that this is true?

    UNP
    Adam
     
  3. Grace

    Grace
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    I first read this story in "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" by Joshua Harris.
     
  4. Rev. Joshua

    Rev. Joshua
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    Sadly, the moral of this well-written piece is deeply undercut by the reality that young Brian plagerized the entire thing.

    Here's a link: The Room

    There's a link at the bottom of that page that gives Josh Harris' response.

    Joshua
     
  5. Pete Richert

    Pete Richert
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    I'm not sure Brian plaguerized it. I'm not sure Brian ever wrote this essay at all. His part of the story is probably made up. By the way, I first heard it in the fall of 1996, when I first went to college.
     
  6. Pete Richert

    Pete Richert
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    Okay, I stand corrected. I just read Rev. Joshua Villines link and it does seem indeed that it was plagurized by this Brain guy. That is too bad.

    Pete
     
  7. Smellin Coffee

    Smellin Coffee
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    I want to thank you all for pointing out that the story was plagerized. Had I known that it was, I would never have posted it. Thank you all.

    SC
     
  8. Bible Believing Bill

    Bible Believing Bill
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    This essay is what is commonly know as an urban legend. Please take a look at this link to Urban Legends.

    Bill

    Somebody want to tell me what I did wrong in posting the link?

    Bill

    [ April 10, 2002, 01:15 PM: Message edited by: Bible Believing Bill ]
     
  9. Rev. Joshua

    Rev. Joshua
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    Dunno Bill. Probably the space between "...html" and "]"

    If you'll notice, though, I posted the exact same link a few posts back [​IMG] .

    Joshua
     
  10. Bible Believing Bill

    Bible Believing Bill
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    Duh....I didn't even click your link to see that it was the same one. :rolleyes:

    Yup that was the problem thanks Joshua.

    Bill

    [ April 10, 2002, 01:16 PM: Message edited by: Bible Believing Bill ]
     
  11. MissAbbyIFBaptist

    MissAbbyIFBaptist
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    Hey Ya'll.
    I read the topic and replies. I just wanted to say,even though it was copied by this boy, I'm realy glad you posted it.
    I cried while reading it. Though I've been saved almost 3 years I still marval in the fact that Jesus loved me enough to pay for my sins with His own precious blood. reading the essay gave my a renewed apreciation for my Savior's love.
    Last night, my preacher preached on Christians being ready for thier judgement. It makes me want to try all the more to serve my Savior as He should be served.
    thank you for posting this,
    saved by grace 1999
    {abby} [​IMG]
     

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