Galatians 2:20a
I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not i, but Christ liveth in me:
My Life Verse

Ephesians 6:6

Not with eyeservice, as men pleasers; but as the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart;

Thursday, September 23, 2010

I took out a bunch so ignore the missing numbers


Only two rules-- and you MUST follow them:

1. You can only say Yes or No.
2. You aren't allowed to explain anything unless someone comments and asks.


2. Painted your room? yes

4. Drove a car? yes

5. Danced in front of your mirror? yes

6. Have a crush? yes

9. Gotten in a car with people you just met? yes

10. Been in a fist fight? yes

20. Seen someone die? no

21. Been on a plane? yes

22. Kissed a picture? yes

23. Slept in until 3? yes

24. Love someone or miss someone right now? yes

25. Laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by? yes

26. Made a snow angel? yes

27. Played dress up? yes

28. Cheated while playing a game? yes

29. Been lonely? yes

30. Fallen asleep at work/school? yes

31. Yelled at a friend? yes

32. Felt an earthquake? no

33. Touched a snake? yes

34. Ran a red light? yes

35. Been suspended from school? no

36. Had detention? no

37. Been in a car accident? yes

38. Hated the way you look? yes

39. Witnessed a crime? yes

41. Been lost? yes

42. Been to the opposite side of the country? yes

43. Felt like dying? yes

47. Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? yes

48. Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? yes

49. Caught a snowflake on your tongue? yes

51. Sang in the shower? yes

53. Had a dream that you married someone? yes

54. Glued your hand to something? yes

55. Got your tongue stuck to a pole? no

57. Been a cheerleader? yes

58. Sat on a roof top? yes

59. Didn't take a shower for a week? no

60. Too scared to watch scary movies alone? yes

61. Played chicken? yes

62. Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? no

65. Been easily amused? yes

69. Forgotten someone's name? yes

74. Played a prank on someone? YES

75. Gone to a late night movie? yes

77. Failed a class? no

78. Choked on something ur not supposed to eat? yes

79. Played an instrument for more than 10 hours? yes

82. Thrown strange objects? yes

83. Felt like killing someone? yes

84. Felt like running away? yes

85. Have you ever ran away? no

89. Made a parent cry? yes

90. Cried over someone? yes

93. Had/Have a dog? yes

95. Own an instrument? yes

96. Been in a band/group? yes

97. Drank 25 sodas in a day?no

98. Broken a CD? yes

99. Shot a gun? yes

100. Had feelings for one of your best/good friends? yes

I Have Been Blessed!!!!


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.
- Brian Moore