I CAN ONLY IMAGINE…
as written by a 17 Year Old Boy.
This is excellent and really gets you thinking about what will happen in Heaven.
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 Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County .
Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his homework.
It makes such an impact that people want to share it.
The Moore’s framed a copy of Brian’s essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.
Here is Brian’s essay entitled:
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 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.
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, and 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.
” For God so loved the
world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16
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 EVERY ONE YOU KNOW,CHRISTIAN OR NOT!
“LET’S FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD” AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
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.
God Blesses Us Everyday,
I recently did an interview with the founder of “Bands To Break Bonds”, Alice N. Here are the questions I asked Alice-
1. What is bands to break bonds about?
Bands to Break Bonds is about changing the world through the music we listen to.
2. How did it get started?
I’ve always been interested in being involved with music in one way or another, and God laid a burden on my heart for enslaved children about three years ago. About a year ago, God planted a seed in my heart for this organization–“What if,” I wondered, “musicians used their prominence and their talent to help free slaves? And what if people who loved music could go to a website to find out which bands used music for good?” This organization is the fruit of that idea.
3. What does it do?
Bands to Break Bonds provides fans with a list of “Music Heroes”–musicians who are actively fighting human trafficking. Through our email fanblasts, we also tell the fans how they can help support and partner with those bands in the fight against human trafficking.
4. Where do you plan to go with it?
I hope to go wherever God wants the organization to go. Right now, I think it would be wonderful to have a great team of Music Heroes registered with Bands to Break Bonds and a loyal fanbase receiving fanblasts, all helping to free slaves. It’ll be a community of people committed to a freer, safer world.
If you would like to find out more on “Bands To Break Bonds”, you can head over to their site, http://www.bandstobreakbonds.org/index.html
I watched a video earlier that listed the top 8 reasons why I can’t share my faith. Here is a summary of it-
8. I might get beat-up. Now, that one caught me off-guard. Getting beat up? It could happen, so I went on
7. I am afraid I won’t make sense. Now, I can understand that. What if your words over-cross? So, I went on.
6. I might get made fun of. Now, that is a reason that I could most imagine happening. A kid going to tell his friends and suddenly, everybody makes fun of him. So, I went on.
5. I don’t know how to start. Now, I can imagine a lot of people doing that. “How do I start? Well, I don’t know so I guess I won’t”. Next,
4. I’ll be a bad witness. This one really caught me. I never imagined somebody as a “bad witness”. So, I thought about it and then went on.
3. I’ll say the wrong thing. Now, that one sounds like above. You say the wrong things and then you think you are a bad witness.
2. I’ll be a Religious nut. That’s what I think most of society is like. They want to be the “It Things” and the “It Things” don’t believe in God, so most just keep it silent.
Now, drum roll, the number 1 thing is…
1. I don’t know enough! That one was surprising for me. I mean, I never thought, not once, about not knowing enough about Christ to share your faith. I never thought about if somebody asks me a question and I don’t know the answer. I just never worried about that.
Now, look back at what I just told you. What do all those have in common? They are all excuses, not reasons! Now, I want you to think, are these your excuses?
I still remember my first shower. It was a horrible experience. I was eight years old and all I had ever known was baths. Baths were neat and tidy ordeals where the water flowed in from below my head and – provided I didn’t splash too much – stayed below my head.
I found showers to be an entirely different beast. The water, rather than flowing as a solid stream that was easily visible and avoidable, sprayed out as nearly invisible and unavoidable droplets that seemed to have a magnetic attraction to my eyes.
I did not ask to be promoted from Junior Bath Taker to Junior Shower Taker, but my parents had set the date for my graduation and protesting made little difference. It didn’t help that my twin brother Alex loved showers and had taken one earlier that week.
Before I could draft my formal petition, let alone get anyone to sign it, I found myself staring up at the dreadful shower head just as a brave soul stares down the barrel of his executioner’s gun.
However, once the trigger was pulled and the shower head began rumbling and hissing, my courage melted away, and I was screaming before the first drop hit me.
You see, in my mind there was no moral difference between making your child take a shower and stripping that same child naked and locking him out of the house during a thunderstorm. It was abandonment. I wasn’t a Water Nymph. I wasn’t a shower person. I was a bath person and I was happy that way.
The funny thing is that this morning, nearly ten years later, I took a shower and didn’t think twice about it. I even purposefully let the water spray on my face! It is incredible that what then seemed to be an impossible hurdle is now part of my everyday routines.
~Brett Harris, Do Hard Things
I encourage you to read the book and become a member of their forums, which can be found www.therebelution.com
Please leave a comment if you have questions or comments about the site or join the site. We would love to know!
Also, just so you know, the picture of the girl above is not the author.:)
P.S. The pic came from here-http://www.therebelution.com/about/
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.
I am a debtor. Please say this hymn verse out loud, like I just did, so that people can hear you, show some courage. And think each line thru, and think of God.