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's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it
while
cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teary Valley High School. Brian
had
been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece
of his
life near them-notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about
encountering
Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the
teen's
life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore
realized
that their son had described his view of heaven. "It makes such an
impact
that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore
said.


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, 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
to as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their
lives
also. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how
about
yours?

Luv in Jesus Christ,

"He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree,so that we might die to sin and live for righteousness; By his wounds you have been healed." Ipeter 2:24.

Before U were thought of or time had begun,
God stuck U in the name of His Son.

And each time U pray, you'll see it's true,
You can't spell out JesUs and not include U.

You're a pretty big part of His wonderful name,
For U He was born; that's why He came.

And His great love for U is the reason He died.
It even takes U to spell crUcified.

Isn't it thrilling and splendidly grand
He rose from the dead, with U in His plan?

The stones split away, the gold trUmpet blew,
and this word resUrrection is spelled with a U.

When JesUs left earth at His upward ascension,
He felt there was one thing He just had to mention.

"Go into the world and tell them it's true
That I love them all - Just like I love U."

So many great people are spelled with a U,
Don't they have a right to know JesUs too?

It all depends now on what U will do,
He'd like them to know,
But it all starts with U.

Pray, and let God worry.

     -- Martin Luther

Prayer moves the Heart that moves the universe
(---)

The word of God hidden in the heart is a stubborn voice to
suppress.

     -- Billy Graham

Today, we are overboard on ‘belief’ but bankrupt on obedience.

     -- Author Unknown

Reputation is character minus what you've been caught doing.

     -- Author Unknown

Men can heal lust. Angels can heal malice. God alone can cure
pride.

    (unknown)

If we wait upon God, there is no danger. If we rush on, He must
let us see the consequences of it.

     -- John Darby

God did not write a book and send it by messenger to be read at
a distance by unaided minds. He spoke a Book and lives in His
spoken words, constantly speaking His words and causing the
power of them to persist across the years.

     -- A. W. Tozer