i watched helplessly as he began to open the files and read the cards. i must lock it up and hide the key.īut then as i pushed away the tears, i saw him. no one must ever, ever know of this room. the rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. i cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. i could count the cards it contained on one hand.Īnd then the tears came. i pulled on its handle and a small box not more than 3 inches long fell into my hands. the title bore “people i have shared the gospel with.” the handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. leaning my forehead against the wall, i let out a long, self-pitying sigh. i became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when i tried to tear it.ĭefeated and utterly helpless, i returned the file to its slot. i had to empty it and burn the cards.īut as i took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, i could not dislodge a single card. 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. i felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded.Īn almost animal rage broke on me. i pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. When i came to a file marked “lustful thoughts,” i felt a chill run through my body. could it be possible that i had the time in my short life to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? but each card confirmed this truth. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life i had lived. often there were many more cards than i expected. “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. The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. a file named “friends” was next to one marked “friends i have betrayed.” 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. here were written the actions of every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match.Ī sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as i began randomly opening files and exploring their content. this lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. i quickly shut it, shocked to realize that i recognized the names written on each one.Īnd then without being told, i knew exactly where i was. there were no distinguishing features save for one wall covered with small index card files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings.Īs i drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “people i have liked.” i opened it and began flipping cards. In that place between wakefulness and dreams, i found myself in the room. The room – story about what jesus does with our sins
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