The Day of Fellowship
As we think of all that Christ has done for us through his perfect example and Atoning sacrifice- here is a story to remind us of the realization of what He did for US.
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no features except for the one wall covered by small index card files. These files stretched from floor to ceiling and went endlessly in both directions. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read, "Boys I Have Liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names on each one. I then realized where I was. This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system of my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in every detail. A sense of wonder and curiosity mixed with horror stirred within me as I began opening files and looking at their contents. Some brought joy and sweet memories, others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. A file named, "Friends" was next to the one marked, "Friends I Have Betrayed". The titles ranged from he mundane to the weird, "Books I Have Read", "Lies I Have Told", "Comfort I Have Given", "Jokes I Have Laughed At", "People I Have Hurt". Some were almost funny in their exactness. "Things I Have Done in Anger", :Things I Have Muttered Under MY Breath at My Parents".
Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes, fewer than I had hoped. I was overwhelmed by the volume of life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my young life to write each of these thousands or 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, "Songs I Have Listened To", I realized the files grew to contain the contents. The cards were packed tightly, yet after two or three yards I hadn’t found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much of the quality of the music, but more by the amount of time I knew it represented. When I came to the file marked, "Lustful Thoughts", I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out inch by inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at the details. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. A rage broke through me. "No one must see these cards. No one must ever see this room. I have to destroy them." In a frenzy, I yanked the file out. Its size didn’t matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. I took it out and pounded it on the floor. Not a single card would come out. I desperately pulled out a card and tried to rip it, but it was as strong as steel. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a sigh, then I saw it. The title, "People I Have Shared the Gospel With". The handles were brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.
And then the tears came. I began to cry. Sobbing so deep it hurt my stomach. I fell on my knees and cried out in shame. The rows of shelves whirled around me. No one must ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please, 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. In the moments that I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this wasn't a pity that angered me. I dropped my head and began to cry again. 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 card and one by one He began to sign His name over mine. "NO!: I shouted, rushing at Him. All I could find to say was, "NO, NO", as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on those cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name JESUS covered mine. It was written with His blood.
He gently took the cards back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign all the cards. I do not think I will ever understand how he did it so quickly. But, the next instance 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 the door. There are still cards to be written. --