A TEENAGER'S VIEW OF HEAVEN

A TEENAGER'S VIEW OF HEAVEN
My mom's cousin sent this to us, I thought it was very touching and...I can't think of the word.
Anyhow, please read (all the way through, I know you can do it ) and tell me what you think.
~Anna

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

That is AWSOME..Somthing to really think about...I pray that as I grow older that I would be able to shar the gospel more and more...

That is really cool! But actually, it was written by Joshua Harris...not Brian Moore.

wow! that is really cool!
Thanks for posting that Anna!

Are you sure Joshua Harris wrote that? i dont think sooo

PosOtive.

i'm confused!

wow thats awesome!!!

I looked it up, Brian Moore made it.

Clareesa J. wrote:That is really cool! But actually, it was written by Joshua Harris...not Brian Moore.

Yes, i saw it one one of his videos. He wrote that.

And anna, i watched that on the vidoe, and i was so astounded i watched it more than once. It was one of the most amazing thing ive ever seen. Thanks Anna,
Aubrey

That is a truly incredible story...

Well, if you saw it in his video its probable that he just spoke what Brian Moore wrote.
Lots of people do it, i don't think Joshua Harris wrote it, and Foster said he looked it up.
Anyway, I am glad you liked it.

Ok...here's a link all about it:
The Room

It's in his book...

This is off the same site:

The following article was originally printed in The Columbus Dispatch on June 2, 1999.
ESSAY WASN'T WRITTEN BY TEEN

By Jill Riepenhoff - Dispatch Staff Reporter

Words of encouragement found in a 17-year-old's school locker hours after his death in 1997 once comforted his parents. Now those words that describe a teen-ager meeting Jesus in heaven are bringing anguish to Beth and Bruce Moore of Commercial Point in Pickaway County.

They learned yesterday that an essay their son, Brian, told them he had written is attributed to Christian author Joshua Harris. It appears in Harris' book, I Kissed Dating Goodbye, published by Multnomah Publishers of Sisters, Ore., in April 1997. It first appeared in the spring 1995 issue of the now-defunct New Attitude magazine, once edited by Harris.

The essay, with credit to Brian Moore as the author, was published in yesterday's Dispatch. Well-meaning relatives wanted to share what they believed were the late Teays Valley High School student's insightful words on the anniversary of his death.

"I had no idea,'' Mrs. Moore said yesterday. "I'm positive he said he wrote this. If he was here, I'd wring his neck.''

Brian told his parents that he wrote the essay, titled "The Room,'' as an assignment for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, a group to which he belonged.

The essay has gained a life of its own on the Internet, where more than a dozen variations appear under titles such as "Life's Index Cards,'' "The Price'' and "The Room of My Life.'' It has been tailored for other religions, such as under the title "People That I Have Taught Allah.'' Many of the listings say the author is anonymous, but several people have taken credit for writing it, including Harris.

Mrs. Moore recalled reading it the day her son said he wrote it, about two months before his death on May 27, 1997. The essay appears in Chapter 7 of Harris' book. "I don't usually share my dreams with people, but I'd like to tell you about a particularly stirring one I once had,'' Harris begins the chapter titled, "A Cleansed past: The Room.''

The essay tells of a teen-ager encountering Jesus in a heavenly file room full of cards detailing every moment of his life. Mrs. Moore said she and her husband never saw a copy of the book as they sorted through their son's belongings.

Brian died after his car ran off a road in rural Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He escaped without injuries but then stepped on a downed power line as he went for help and was electrocuted.

The essay was read at Brian's funeral. It has been circulated among church youth groups in the area, and a copy of it hangs on the Moores' living room wall.

"I'm just embarrassed to death,'' Mrs. Moore said.


All content herein is © 1999 The Columbus Dispatch and may not be republished without permission. Gerald Tebben, The Columbus Dispatch.

The Room:

so the kid plagarised(sp?) our elder's son, died the day afterwards... akward...

Yup...very...

i was gonna say...i know joshua wrote that...

Wow-this made me want to cry-it was so touching!!

That is is very neat! I really like the part where Jesus looks more sorrowful than the person in the room.

wow.
whoever wrote it, that really made me stop and think.
thank you.

it was Joshua Harris.

I think...

My mom says that has been going around in emails for years and years...when did his book come out?

Foster G wrote:so the kid plagarised(sp?) our elder's son, died the day afterwards... akward...

Ironic.

Despite who wrote it, It was beautiful! It really makes you think.

Foster G wrote:so the kid plagarised(sp?) our elder's son, died the day afterwards... akward...

Yes, and somewhat ironic...

Despite who wrote it, it's beautiful! It really does make you think.