A Teenager's View Of Heaven

I think I have seen the above story somewhere before, but in this case, I copied it from SparkPeople on a message board.
It's worth contemplating at least once, isn't it?

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.

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.'

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