The Room

(NO IDEA HOW TO GET RID OF THE WHITE HIGHLIGHT, AND CAN'T BE BOTHERED SO...meh.

As it happens, I checked my inbox to find a forwarded email. Bless. BUT, I gave it a chance, and it was actually worth my time. So, as I do, I found where it originated, and have posted it below. Enjoy and be challenged...

"In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save 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 endlessly 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 20 years to write 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 "Songs I Have Listened To," 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 music, but more by the vast amount of 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 an 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 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."

By Joshua Harris. Originally published in New Attitude Magazine. Copyright New Attitude, 1995. You have permission to reprint this in any form. We only ask that you include the appropriate copyright byline and do not alter the content.

The People You Meet

It's amazing. The people you meet. 

I'm not talking about the people whose name you know, whose glance you exchange, or whose statuses you read. I'm talking about the people that you talk to when you're sitting at the bus stop, or waiting for food at a fast food restaurant, or when you're out walking with no other intention other than to walk. 

For instance, outside my workplace, is a bus stop. When I first started working at Education Action, I would see this small set Asian lady walking around outside the bus stop, sitting at the bus stop, sitting on the concrete block by the bus stop, waiting for 11 o'clock when the restaurant she worked at opened and she was able to start the chopping of the spring onions. One day I decided that I would approach her, as I do, and it turns out she is quite an interesting lady. Her name is Benh (pronounced Beeng), she is half Vietnamese, half Cambodian, she speaks Cantonese, survived the Khmer Rouge, lives in my neighbourhood, and has an emerging confidence in English. She is friendly, she has taught me some words in Khmer, she is always interested in my own stories about Cambodia, and now everyday that I see her, I call out my window to her (totally professional, right?) and usually walk downstairs just to have a conversation. I love that Benh is my friend. 

I would never have been able to know that Benh was such an interesting person had I not decided to have that first conversation with her. She would not be my friend today if God had not prompted me to see the people behind the people I see. In all our typing, document producing, emailing, article reading, overseas travelling, make-up wearing, club-forming, tertiary studying, life-living, let's not forget that what is most important in this world is people. And last time I checked, people, not products, are most important to God.

"Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples."
John 13:35

I want to LOVE to shine God's love,

Adellz.

La Bella Tierra

Latin American countries I'd love to visit...

1. Colombia

2. Ecuador

3. Peru

4. Venezuela

5. Brazil

Reasons

1. ITEC

2. Bruce Olson

3. Waodani/Hauorani

4. Steve Saint

5. Walisuma

Elaboration to come...

2012.

Just in case I forget - which I will - here are some things that I'd like to do in the year 2012. So, this is kind of like a mental note, except it's not purely mental, it's also... scripted? O_o...
Oh and of course given the world has indeed overcome yet another 'end of existence' uproar.

1. Play badminton
2. Learn to ride a bike (yep, it's true.)
3. Buy my family presents when it's their birthdays
4. Pay off the ol' debts (yep, it's true)
5. Make time to spend with people that mean lots to me
6. Obtain my drivers license (yep, it's true too)
7. Buy a Ford Courier Ute 1994 Twin Cab, and drive it (most definitely true)
8. Go rollerskating

More to come, I hope!

My Confession (Ben Stein)

I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees, Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are, Christmas trees.
It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, 'Merry Christmas' to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.
I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.
Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren't allowed to worship God ? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.
- - - - -
In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.
Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her 'How could God let something like this happen?' (regarding Hurricane Katrina).. Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, 'I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?'
In light of recent events... terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.
Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said okay.
Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.
Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with 'WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.'
Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says. Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.
Are you laughing yet?
Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.
Pass it on if you think it has merit.
If not, then just discard it.... no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.
My Best Regards, Honestly and respectfully,
Ben Stein

It's Hardest When.

All we can do is pray.

Excuse me for being blunt, but I hate having to say that. Not because I don't believe it, but because I wish it wasn't true.

I wish there was more I could do. I wish I could feed the hundreds of thousands going hungry in Africa. I wish that I could rescue every young girl and boy living in brothels in Cambodia. I wish I could have depressed people on a 24/7 watch, so that when they start tying that rope around their necks, I could stop them. I wish that I could tell that child that they were valued, you know, the one whose parents tell them they're the reason their lives didn't turn out the way they'd wanted. I wish that I could cure the woman breathing her last breaths. I wish I could tunnel my way into the Pike River Mine - one year earlier - and rescue the men who died. I wish that I could hop in my time machine, go back to 1939 and take Hitler down. Or at least, out of the picture. I just wish that I could teleport myself to North Korea, and, and, and... And? I don't even know what I would do. What I could do. What could I do? Burst into the doors of the seven story 'Pleasure Palace', wave my wand and banish Kim Jong's successors to a land where naughty world leaders go to think about their actions? Probably not.

God, why is it so hard for us to live in this world? Why have we done such bad things with the gift of the earth that you gave to us? What is our problem? We are our own problem! Annihilate us! Too bad You're a man of your word. Rainbows and all.

Father, humble our hearts and minds... how dare we think we can do this thing on our own? If it's our fault the world's the way it is now, how can we be trusted to bring it back to Your standards? Back to right?

In Jesus' Name,
Amen.

My Heart

My heart is empty.

Christmas break, here I come.