In one of his books, Josh Harris relates a dream he had one night in a chapter he entitled “The Room.” He tells about entering an unusual room. Listen to what he said.
In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features of the room except for 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…had very different headings…the first to catch my attention was one that read, “Girls I have liked.” I opened it and began flipping through the cards.
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 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 contents. 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 me. 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.” “Jokes I’ve Laughed At.” “Things I’ve done in anger.” Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes there were fewer than I had hoped.
I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time…to write each of these thousands, possibly millions, of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.
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 contents. I felt so sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.
Suddenly I felt an almost animal rage. 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 and burn the cards. But as I took the file 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 the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me.
I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out in 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 grace in His eyes. But this was a compassion 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. Jesus 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, and 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 continued 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 am thankful for God’s amazing grace. How about you?