Author Unknown




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Author Unknown

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
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 "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

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

Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've Yelled at
My Brothers For."

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 write 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

When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To," 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 music, but more by the
vast amount of 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 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 the hurt
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
where 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.

The blood of Jesus purifies us from all sin. Yes, my sins may be terrible,
but so was the cross and His cross paid for them. I don't have to evade
my guilt or disclaim responsibility and blame others for my sins.
I don't have to relativize my actions or try vainly to atone for them myself.
And I somehow can't forget my past. The memories remained in my room.

Until Him. He cleansed my quiet guilt. He remedied my marred character.
In my room, I realized I was not who I thought I was. But He covered the
evidence in my room. He cleaned my history with His hand.

His resurrection now lives in my heart. Spring is in my soul.
I turn to the Lord who finished what I couldn't complete.

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Prayer & Eternity Bookmarks

The following is an inspiring example of international
caregivers who distribute Prayer and Eternity Bookmarks
to hurting people.

To request a donation or purchase bookmarks visit:
Salvation Prayer and Poem Bookmarks

And thank you very much for linking from your website
so others may find the bookmarks.

* * *

I am Sammy and the very purpose of requesting for the
Salvation bookmarks is because of the people in this area who
develop much interest in the word of God and who love to know the
Lord more and I know this will help them to mark so many places in
the Bible. I also want to make this request so as to serve as a gift
for our first timers in the church, to share to my friends in school
and during the cause of Evangelism. Thanks alot I will really
appreciate it if you could respond positively to my request. The
Lord bless you the more in the name of the Lord.

- Sammy Afolabi Oladiji, Port Harcourt, Rivers State, Nigeria

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"HOW TO SING: A Singer's Vocal Primer" is short and full of
information. "HOW TO SING" describes classical singing
technique which is the basis for any style of singing.

To read more, visit:
HOW TO SING: A Singer's Vocal Primer

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