A Teenager's view of Heaven

*A TEENAGER'S VIEW OF 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 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 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."

*_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
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,seemed 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
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
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
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 so the love of Jesus will
touch their lives also. My "People I shared the gospel with"
file just got bigger, how about yours?



Kevin had put this on his blog awhile ago, but I think this is something you can put on many times. Thanks for reading it.

In Christ,
Amy