by . . . Brian Moore
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
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,
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
Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. "It
such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are
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
wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was
The Moores 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.
we were meant to find it and make something out of it, " Mrs. Moore
of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of
after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll
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
small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list
author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which
floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very
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,
detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity,
with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and
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
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
Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have
Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at
brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My
"Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased
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
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
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
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
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
The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I
on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell
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
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
the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name
mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find
was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on
cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive.
of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took
card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I
I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it
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
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,
believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."
If you feel the same way, share this page to as many people as you can
the love of Jesus will touch their lives also.
"People I shared the gospel with" file
just got bigger, how about yours?
IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD,
IT IS THIS ONE.
PLEASE PASS THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW, CHRISTIAN OR NOT!
LET'S FILL OUR OWN "FILE CARD" AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
You don't have to share this with anybody,
no one will know if you didn't,
but you will know and so will he...