My sister up in Oregon sent this story to my wife, and I thought it might encourage some of us. I know it did me.  

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was, What Was Heaven Like? Brian later told his father, Bruce: "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 instantly electrocuted.  The Moore's 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. She said, "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 lists 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," and "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 one was written in my own handwriting. Each was 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 moments 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.  

Feeling 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 just 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 brushed 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 gazed 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 He walked 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.

 -joebib

I just came across this insightful article from the Christian Post that talks about how, according to a new Barna study,  a majority of Christians now believe in the validity of worshiping God in non-traditional church settings. It states: 

“'Often, people feel as if their worship and ministry are confined to what is routinely done because those patterns have a biblical basis or mandate,' explained George Barna, co-author of the new book Pagan Christianity? Exploring the Roots of Our Christian Practices.'

'But when you research the origins of church practices, and study the practices of the early church, you discover that most of our current church practices have ancient cultural origins, with no biblical basis.' 

Six alternatives were considered by most adults to be ‘a complete and biblically valid way for someone who does not participate in the services or activities of a conventional church to experience and express their faith in God.’  

Non-Church alternatives include engaging in faith activities at home with one’s family (acceptable by 89 percent of adults); participating in a house church (75 percent); watching a religious television program (69 percent); listening to a religious radio broadcast (68 percent); attending a special ministry event, such as a concert or community service activity (68 percent); and participating in a marketplace ministry (54 percent).  

In the past month, the study found that while 55 percent of adults had attended a conventional church, 28 percent of all adults who did not attend a conventional church did, however, participate in an alternative activity to express their faith in God.” 

I found particularly interesting the part that mentions how a majority of IC Pastors of Protestant churches remain opposed to house churches, specifically those Pastors who: earn more than $75K per year, are African-American, or are Charismatic/Pentecostal. 

I guess these SPs haven't seen Acts 8:3, 20:20; Rom. 16:5; 1 Cor. 16:19; Col. 4:15, etc.

Pretty interesting stuff.

The entire article can be read HERE. 

-joebib 

Inasmuch as we were fairly bombarded in January by more "politcal" posts than I care to go back and try to count, all seeming to originate from in or around the region of our nation's capital , I thought it might be interesting to post something of a slightly different nature for a change.

I’ve always regarded Martin Luther as one of the true giants in the history of the world.

(And yeah, I know all that stuff he said about the Jews.  But, haven't we all — in the heat of battle, or in an unguarded moment — said stuff we wish we hadn't?)

But I still think he was indisputably one of the greatest of men. He had an amazing relationship with the Lord, praying several hours each day before dawn, and the way he was able to express things — he is one of the most quotable of all churchmen — was just outstanding. I think I may have posted this before, but just look at what he says in one of his first extant letters, written, as I recall, when he was only 21:

“Learn to know Christ and him crucified. Learn to sing to him and say ‘Lord Jesus, you are my righteousness, I am your sin. You took on you what was mine; yet you set on me what was yours. You became what you were not, that I might become what I was not.’”

Now I'd say you'd be hard pressed to find a more succinct, simple, and pure description of the entire Gospel message than that.

In our day, a lot of things, mostly the media I guess, has driven us to classify just about anything as heroic — even calling someone a “hero” — for doing nothing of more significance than merely performing their job.    But hero, as well as other words like bravery and admiration, are definitely terms I would use to describe my regard for this lowly German monk (did I mention that I also am German?) who took on— and defeated — the Roman Catholic Church, an institution which held sway over pretty much most of the world in that day. 

Unlike nowadays when anyone with an extra 23 bucks in his or her pocket can throw up a website in which to opine, make fun of, or even attack anything that suits his or her fancy, in the 16^th century-Roman Catholic-dominated-world it was not so.  If one slightly opposed — or was even suspected of opposing — the religious status quo of that day, they could be deemed a heretic, for which offence they would promptly be tied to a stake and burned alive. 

In virtually single-handedly launching the Protestant Reformation by nailing his 95 theses to the Wittenberg church door in 1517 — wherein he questioned everything Catholic — Luther came under horrendous attack from the Church. Later, in defending himself against the inevitable charge of heresy (and thus death) at the Diet of Worms in 1521, he is said to have defiantly replied to his Catholic inquisitors,               

“Unless I am convinced by the testimony of the Scriptures,               

"I cannot and will not recant anything.               

“To go against conscience is neither right nor safe.                

“Here I stand, I can do no other, so help me God! Amen.” 

Reading those words and trying to envision the scene in my mind always moves me.  I don’t think any of us can imagine — nor still less appreciate — the magnitude of the social and spiritual pressure that was bearing down upon the emotions and soul of Luther at this time, not only from all of society, and from all of the world as he knew it, but also from the Enemy himself.

I suppose it would be somewhat akin to an outspoken person going on national TV and saying something like “Screw all the Democrats! Screw all the homos! Screw all the women’s libbers!…And oh yeah, screw all the ___________ (pick any racial slur) too!”  

I do believe that, among others, the ACLU — and depending on which epithet was used, a couple of so-called — and well-known — “reverends” — would call for his (her? AC? ) immediate stoning. 

Looking back over the years, I’m rather ashamed at the times — mostly in the work place — when I had so little courage to stand up for the Lord when someone, hostile to the Gospel, might have said something critical about this or that famous minister, perhaps about Christians in general, or even against Jesus, and instead remained silent. 

I’m not saying I think the Lord necessarily wants us to be engaging in hot-blooded debate with unbelievers/complainers in a (misguided?) attempt to defend the merits of Christianity every time some wag makes a disparaging remark. But I do think we have a responsibility to say/do something.  

I mean, don’t we? 

-joebib

These words, taken from the hymn BE THOU MY VISION, have been on my heart of late.  

It occurs to me that one of the most effective tools the enemy of our souls uses to keep us from that one thing which alone will transform us from carnal believers into true followers of Christ — intimacy with Jesus — is distraction. 

By distraction, I don’t just mean the obvious aspect of that which would divert our attention away from the Lord and onto something else — although there are definitely plenty of allurements in this world which are all too successful in doing just that. Stuff like busy schedules, sports, possessions, long hours at work, stress at home, too much time spent in front of the idiot box — or in front of it’s heinous cousin, the silver screen — and even friends and loved ones.

None of which, I suppose, are “sinful” in and of themselves, but any one of which can become so if taken to an extreme. (Exodus 20:3, NASB)

No, what the Lord has been impressing upon me is about being distracted from Him while doing “stuff” for Him — even in the very midst of it. 

I used to find myself getting caught up in this type of thing all the time, in past years, when I was heavily involved in various IC activities like attending services/meetings/events perhaps 3, 4, or even 5 times per week, helping out in the nursery or Sunday School, being in charge of this or that project, serving on committees, performing in plays, or even preaching and teaching. I mean, all of this is on the face of it, good stuff. Right? 

And I’m sure many, if not most, of us have been there and can relate, can’t we? I seem to remember Pope recently mentioning the total number of services/meetings he attended over the years at CBC as approaching a googleplex.

Now, what about doing something less public, less IC-like? What about reading and studying the Bible, for instance? We’re exhorted to do just that by the Bible itself, and not just to read and study it, but to think about it, to recite it, to memorize it, to meditate — and even muse — upon God’s Word. You all know the verses that say this. 

But I know from personal experience that Bible reading and Bible study can quickly morph into something from which both Jesus and the presence of the Holy Spirit are quite far away from.  

I remember KJC once telling me that when he used to study the Word, in the very midst of doing that, every so often, he would just stop, close his Bible or whatever he was writing in, and just close his eyes and begin to pray and commune with the Lord, and spend time with Him before going back to study. For maybe 10 or 15 minutes. I have tried to do this myself over the years, but I find that I didn’t do it nearly as often as my spirit needed me to. 

Alright then, what about prayer? Surely, we can’t be guilty of being distracted from — from missing — the Lord in prayer, can we?  

Well, again, I don’t know about anyone else, but I know for sure that I can. My wife and I pray together every morning before we leave for work, which is good, right? But, you know, sometimes, in the midst of that, my mind is not where it should be. Maybe I’m focused a bit too much on telling the Lord what I need from Him, or asking Him to do this or that in someone’s else’s life, or telling Him what He should do in this or that situation.

All of which — except perhaps the latter   — are good things to do, and which are definitely aspects of prayer, aren't they?

But what about time spent in just being before Him? In just kneeling or sitting or standing or laying there before Him — alone — and just feeling Him, and listening to Him, and communing with Him, and just allowing myself to soak in whatever He is wanting to pour into me? Although I have done this many times, I'm feeling Him call me to a deeper level of it.

I’m reminded right about now of the Lord’s admonition to the Church at Ephesus, how Jesus commended them for all their wonderful works and service which they had done to and for Him. And yet, we all know how He had just one thing against them — they had moved away from His Presence.

In the midst of the very proper stuff they were doing for Him, they had not lost, but left their 1st Love (Rev. 2:1-7, NASB). 

OK, I’m done.

Thanks for letting me open up.  

I append here the entire lyrics to BE THOU MY VISION. You can go to one of these song/hymn sites on the web (here) and (here) to read/listen to this hymn if you wish. 

(Will you forgive me if I embolden my favorite parts?) 

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.

Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,

Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;

I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;

Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;

Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;

Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;

Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:

Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,

Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,

High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,

May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,

Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all. 

-joebibstudent