The Room by Joshua Harris

Sometimes others say what we know to be true better than we can.

I am overwhelmed at the imagery of this story and the truth it holds for me as I reconcile my sin with the perfection of our Saviour. Read through this and consider what is contained in your room...and know that Jesus loves you so much He died for every thought, word and action we have committed against our Heavenly Father.

Rejoice for your name is written in the Lamb's Book of Life! Luke 10:20

May the beauty of salvation embrace you, may your need for Christ capture you,

and may the power of the Cross overwhelm you.

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the mysterious array of black filing cabinets. 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 “Lust,” 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. Orginally 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. To download PDF version, click here.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 4th, 2006 at 10:30 am and is filed under Resource Section: Featured Articles. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

recently found on this blog:

http://www.therebelution.com/blog/2006/10/the-room-by-joshua-harris/
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This little light of mine, I gonna let it shine

This little light of mine, I gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine...

Remember Jesus' words to the discouraged, "He will not crush the weakest reed or put out a flickering candle. Finally he will cause justice to be victorious." Matt 12:20

What an encouragement! Then He reminds us that it is He who lights us and keeps us flaming for Him if we let Him be our source. Even though it goes against our survival instincts, we can depend upon Jesus to provide all we need!

"Don't be obsessed with getting more material things. Be relaxed with what you have. Since God assured us, "I'll never let you down, never walk off and leave you," we can boldly quote, God is there, ready to help; I'm fearless no matter what. Who or what can get to me? " Hebrews 13:5-6

Have a wonderful day!

Would Jesus wash the feet of International Leaders today?

This is an incredible painting and an even more incredible thought that Jesus is truly a servant to all mankind. His love is unconditional and is not a respecter of position, wealth, reputation or importance. He loves you and me and Osama the same...His grace provides the same opportunity for eternal life for every man woman and child.

Think about Him and how He opens His heart to accept and love you.

Want to read more about the source of this painting?

Go to: http://www.heavenlysanctuary.com/

Happy Thanksgiving!

Our wonderful granddaughter Abby is here!

It has been 30 days today since our precious new granddaughter Abigail Camden came to this earth to live with her mother and father, Becca and Nick.

So much has happened since then. San Diego had a huge firestorm throughout the county when Abby was only 7 days old. So for her health, Becca and Abby went to Phoenix for two weeks. And we have yet to see her live!

But next Thursday, in just one more week, we will all celebrate Thanksgiving together at Big Bar Lake. I can hardly wait to see her and the rest of the family. Oh boy!

That's her cousin Jackson Emery next to her wondering what this strange creature is next to him and waving her arm in his face...

and in her mommy's arms looking so small...."I wonder when she is going to be big like me...?"

These two wonderful women, Christy and Becca, with their two wonderful children, Jackson and Abby, are the best!

I cannot believe they are all a part of our growing family...God blesses so big. This has been a big wonderful season in our lives! I really think it just doesn't get better than this.

Grass roofing

Grass roofing, originally uploaded by jamie.marie.

Products available to the community from the earth found locally. Here in California, we have codes and companies and rules and status that all get in the way of a group of creative talented friends installing thatch on a roof...I know I sound idealistic but tell me this kind of cooperative effort on such a low-key basis doesn't have some appeal!

Back to the earth and indigenous as mankind has done for milleniums...but it just doesn't provide much for the profit-generating, free-enterprise, possessions-oriented culture. Subsistance is hard work! I wonder if the stress-levels and the cancer rates and the divorce rates are the same in these cultures as they are in the 'developed' western world. Hmmm.

And the real question for me is what will heaven be like? Will our lifestyles look like the Western world or like the rest of the world? God knows...and soon enough we will too.

About the Village 'S M I T H Y' --- where did they come from?

WHAT'S IN A NAME … Are you called SMITH?

Some families insist that their name is not "Smith" at all but "Smythe". Surprisingly enough this might very well be the case and they are not "trying it on". Their rendering of the name could be derived from an Old English word "smeeth" which is descriptive of any open level ground. It is related to the same root-word which now appears as "smooth", In early literature "smeeth" occurs more frequently than "smooth" but after 1400 it was displaced and now survives only in dialect - particularly in East Anglia. Hence those who bear this surname can lay claim to ancestors who occupied a dwelling on such a site.

Otherwise the name is occupational and is descriptive of a person whose forebears were "Smiths". Here it is desirable to stress that originally the term extended to almost every craft and not merely to that now identified with the traditional blacksmith. Our ancestors had a more limited range of materials for manufacturing than had later generations and referred to any person who worked with any hard material including wood, as a "smith". Hence in the Old English version of the Gospels dating from about 950, the expression "Is this not the Carpenter's son?" (Matthew: 13, v.55) is rendered as "Thys is smithes sunu?" The Romans also had a similar concept and for which they used the word "faber". This can throw up problems of ambiguity in old records where a person's surname is given as "Smith" followed by his occupation as "faber".

Today "hand" is frequently used to describe a worker and, where necessary, it is qualified according to his job: "deck-hand", "garage hand", etc. In much the same way "smith" was particularised, either by the material he worked or his product. Thus a worker in "black metal" (i.e. iron) was called a "blacksmith"; if in lead, as "greensmith"; a "whitesmith" (tin). Later expressions such as "lock-smith", "gun-smith" and "shoe-smith", are self-explanatory. Since iron is more widely distributed than other metals, the number of Blacksmiths exceeded other "smiths" and since the trade was far less localised, it followed eventually that the word "smith" tended to be applied to craftsmen who were strictly "blacksmiths". Still such a development is not exceptional. Note how in modern times the term "chemist" has centred on the profession more correctly described as "pharmaceutical chemistry".

In the Middle Ages, the blacksmith's forge was the focus of every community. It was resorted to, not only for shoeing horses but also to make and repair a whole range of items of domestic and agricultural use and for defence. Our Mediaeval Ancestors would have taken very much to heart the strategy described in Samuel I, ch. XIII v. 19!

The traditional picture of the smith striking his anvil with mighty blows has also contributed to obscure the fact that it means "craftsman". One has only to remember that "smiths" were understood to be workers in material which could not be "hammered out" - wood, for example.

The numerous counterparts of the word in all Northern and Central European languages (Norway: smed. Germany: schmitt. Poland: szymt) point to a common origin, now lost. It probably lay somewhere in the Himalayas and might have influenced the Greek word "sminye" meaning a hoe - i.e. the tool with which the soil is "crafted". (?)
Although blacksmiths undertook the manufacture and repair of many more things than horse-shoes, it is with this speciality that they are strongly identified. As early as 1296 this side of their business had already led to the evolution of an occupational surname: "William le Shosmith, ye sosmyth" (Sussex). The Normans had their own word for a specialist in the shoeing of horses. It was based on the Latin word "ferrum" (iron) and now appears as "farrier". (The history of this word and the surnames it generated must be reserved for another article). Because the Normans thought themselves to be top-dogs, and sought to restrict the English peasants from travelling and owning horses, they were more involved with "shoe-smiths" and preferred using their own word "ferreor". This too will have gone a long way to tying in "smith" with "farriery". Even by the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, the terms were interchangeable. In 1562 Parliament passed an Act regulating "Ye Craftes of Smithes and Farriers".
So the conclusion is that families called "Smith" can lay claim to ancestors who were craftsmen but not exclusively in the shoeing of horses.

Restrictions of space preclude an exhaustive list of all the variations in the spelling of the name or of its derivatives. Still mention may be made of the fact that since "Smiths" were important figures in early settlements, their trade tended to run in families: hence "Smithson" and "Smisson". They would also have been noted employers and so we find "Smither", "Smithyman" and "Smithee".

Until the invasion of motor-vehicles, the village smithy was a vital unit in the days of horse-back travel and horse-drawn carriages. Probably the most famous one in the U.K. is at Gretna Green, just over the Border, north of Carlisle. It was once the goal of countless run-away marriages. Advantage was taken that it was once the rule in Scotland that a valid marriage could be effected simply by the two parties decaring their wishes before witnesses. In this case, since the black-smith's was the first convenient stopping-place over the Border, he and his assitants were readlily available to testify to the arrangements.

Contrary to a popular belief, the celebrated "village smithy" standing beneath "the spreading chestnut tree" is not within these Islands, but in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Sadly the road traffic lobby pretended the "spreading chestnut treet" was a hazard and contrived its removal some years ago!

It is a further reflection upon the fact that nothing in this world is permanent or abiding, and the presence of a Black-smiths in every settlement which was thought indispensable throughout Western Europe for at least a milennium, vanished within 20 years following the introduction of motor transport. Every village Black-smith converted his forge into the local garage and Service Station. Still the "Smith" lives on under a surname which is certainly the oldest on record. Ecceard Smith of Durham dated 975 at one end of the Kingdom and Aelfworde yo Smith, Somerset at the other.

The name easily heads the list of the most frequently encountered surnames throughout the Enlish-speaking world. In these Islands it proliferates in Scotland and the North, through the Midlands, East Anglia and the South-East. The greatest concentration is around Aberdeen. It is not much in evidence in Wales because occupational names did not form part of the Welsh culture. The people preferred forms based on personal names derived from historical sources and the Bible.

It seems that our Asiatic friends share a similar tradition. The equivalent term was "Patel" which thus accounts for the prevalence of that name in the Indian community. It is also reflected in the first unit of the Romany name, "Petulengro", which the Gypsies generally translate also as "Smith". It is very common among Gypsies. Older readers will recall the colourful "Gipsey Smith" the "Queen of the Kentish Gypsies". According to the local Directories there are over 4000 entries under "Smith".

Of the personalities called Smith, mention should be made of Adam Smith (1723-1790) the Monetary Theroist, Joseph Smith (1805-1844) who founded the Mormon Church, Madeleine Smith (c1837-c1930) the celebrated defendant in a trial for poisoning her lover and its controversial "non-proven" verdict and W. H. Smith (1825-1891) the founder of the newsagency and book selling enterprize. Here in Bakewell many of us identify the name with our friends who supply us with daily papers and magazines and stationery from their place in Portland Square.

© Desmond Holden
From "The Peak Advertiser", 18th November 1996.
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The Village Smithy

During the 1800's the towns of Dennisville and Goshen were well known for their shipbuilding trade. A craftsman who was very important to this trade was the village blacksmith for he not only made tools and implements for the townspeople, but forged many of the articles needed to build the ships. The blacksmith was given his name because he worked with black metal (iron) which was hit or "smitten." The iron was heated over his forge or fireplace, then shaped into the desired shape on an anvil, a tool with a pointed end and flat top. Daily life was touched by the blacksmith's many talents including the ironware he made for cooking, barrel stays for the cooper or barrel-maker, iron tires for the wheelwright, latches and hinges for the cabinetmaker and guns for the soldier or hunter. In the towns along the Delaware Bay, he was widely sought after by the shipbuilders.

Many children did not go to school but instead they learned a trade from an artisan. As apprentices, they studied and worked until their skills were good enough to open their own shops. When work was scarce, craftsmen turned to other skills such as farming and fishing. Whaler yeomen were both whalers and farmers and there were many whaler yeomen in Cape May County through out the I 8th and 19th centuries. Many blacksmiths were also farmers and because of their skill with metal, they were often called upon to shoe their neighbor horses. Farmers also brought broken tools to the village smithy for repair. His shop became the focus of the male community much as the quilting bees were for the women. John Finley was a blacksmith in Goshen in-1865 - his blacksmith shop is now located at Historic Cold Spring Village. His grandson, Finley Mixner, was also a blacksmith and several of his tools may be found among "smithy" Jerry Goldman's implements. Come and visit the Village blacksmith and see how a blacksmith worked during the mid-1800's! School trips are being scheduled for the month of lone. In addition to the blacksmith, you can become involved firsthand in a variety of trades and crafts including woodworking, printing, broommaking spinning, leatherwork, basketry and open-hearth cooking. If you would like to visit during this time, speak to your teacher about making a reservation early. There is no charge for Cape May County students. The program is funded by PNC Bank, Friends of Historic Cold Spring Village and HCSV Foundation.

borrowed from:
http://www.hcsv.org/Chronicle/smithy.htm