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Hi, my name is angel
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Story 

thast how we know

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YIM
Created: 2005-11-05 17:14:14 All stories by
THE ROOM

>> >

>> >

>> > 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 TearyValleyHigh

>>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 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.

>> >

>> > 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 Roadin PickawayCountyand struck a utility pole. He

>> >emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power

>>line

>> >and was electrocuted.

>> >

>> > The Mooresframed 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."

>> >

>> >

>> >

>> > Brian'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?

>> >

>> >

Either you got sent this because your friend thinks you need to be on your way to heaven or is sending this to you to help your file get bigger, too. If you couldn't answer the question at the very beginning..........................

Jesus Christ died on the cross and shed His blood (the red marker) for your sins. If you will pray and ask Him into your heart-by saying, Jesus I believe you died on the cross- I know I sin, will you forgive me and save me from sin and come into my life so I can also meet with you in heaven?

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!

>> >

>> > 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
  

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