Living in the gap between what we believe and what our our situations are, it's
easy to either 'give in' in quite a fatalistic way or spend our lives dreaming
of what might / could / should be. The challenge is to reconcile our faith to
these situations of ordinary life. Daniel, who ( bear in mind ) spent most of
his existence in exile in a place he would not have chosen with his own people
who were largely either living in anger, denial, bitterness ( " By the
rivers of Babylon " etc., ) or utter compromise shows us quite clearly a
faith response.
Daniel saw behind it all - to the " spiritual " battle - and his
response is very different - in faith he concentrated on developing a
relationship with God to the point where he was able to make a difference
in that environment. No matter how remote / impossible your situation seems,
making a difference and integrating Christian life into " ordinary "
life is possible - though it is a good long haul!
We too live in a place where God is no longer generally worshipped or feared,
we have been affected in church by the godlessness and flavour of our times
in all manner of ways and to live for Christ clearly makes us strangers in
this money crazed world. To those of us who struggle in this gap, who fall
and have wondered if it could ever be different we hope the following "
dream " will be of encouragement.....
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.
There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with
small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list
title by author or by subject in althabetical order. But these files,
which stretched from floor to ceiling and right to left as far as the
eye could see, had very different headings. As I walked up to the wall
of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "
People I have liked ". I opened it and began flipping through
the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realise that I recognised 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 catalogue system for
my entire life! The actions of my every moment, big and small, were
written in a detail that my memory could not match. A sense of wonder
and curiosity, mixed 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 title ranged from common, everyday things to the not-so-common;
" Books I Have Read, " " Lies I Have Told, " " Comfort
I Have Given, " " Jokes I Have Laughed At. " Some where almost
hilarious in their exactness: " Things I Have Yelled At My Brothers
And Sisters, " Others I could not laugh at: " Things I Have Done
In Anger, " " Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath At My Parents.
" I have never ceased to be surprised by the contents.
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I have
hoped. The sheer volume of the life I had lived overwhelmed me. Could it be
possible that in my 17 years of life to write each of these millions of cards?
But each card confirmed the truth. Each card was written in my own handwriting.
Each card was signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "
Songs I Have Listened To, " I realised the files grew to contain their
contents. The cards were packed tightly. After two or three cards I shut
the file, ashamed not so much by the quantitiy of music, but by the vast
amount of time I knew the 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.
A feeling of humiliation and anger ran through my body. 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 did not matter know. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But, as
I took the file at one end and began pounding it on the floor I could not
disloge 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 it its slot. Leaning my
forehead against the wall, I let out a long self-pitying sigh. That's when
I saw it. The file labelled " 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 3 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 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.
Then as I looked up through my tears, I saw Him enter the room. No please,
not Him. Not here! Anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open
the files and read the cards. I could not bear to watch His response. The few
times I looked at His face, I saw such sadness that it tore at my heart. He
seemed to intuitively go the 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 did not anger me. I dropped
my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.
He walked over and put His arms around me. He could have said so many things.
But He did not 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 every 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 should not 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 in blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled
a sad smile and began to sign the cards again. 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............
"
Brian Moore, " The Room, " Streams Ministries International,
E-letter, December 2000.
Available from
http://www.streamsministries.com.
Used with permission.
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A Message from June 2001