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Here
are some inspirational thoughts that might help you
from time to time.
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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 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 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. "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 list 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," and "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 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 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 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 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. 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 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.
"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, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish
but have eternal life."
If you feel the same way forward it so the love of
Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People
I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how
about yours?
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How Many "No's" Can You Get
Dealing with “NO”
Original Article by Sarah Scaffidi
Modified by Jim Childers
It’s a one word answer. The word “NO”.
Some people really have a tough time accepting the
fact that they hear NO fairly often.
They get discouraged and feel rejected because they
look at the word NO as a negative.
Nothing could be further from the truth! The
word NO simply means that nothing changes.
Think about it. You approach your neighbor and
ask her to be a hostess and she says NO—what
changed? Is she still your neighbor?
Yes! Did your income go up or down? No!
Nothing changed! It can’t be a negative; to be
a negative things would have to get worse and they
did not! Everything remained exactly the same!
On the other hand, supposed she said YES.
Now, there are some positive changes. She
receives your incentives (a positive). You
gain several more customers (another positive),
potential hostesses (another positive) and
consultants (another positive), and you earn more
money (another positive). You can see by this
example that there are no negatives in your Mary Kay
business. There are only positives and times
when nothing changes.
Take a sheet of paper and make ten rows and ten
columns with the word “NO”. When
someone tells you NO, cross out one of the
NO’s. Set yourself a goal of getting all
100 NO’s crossed out in any month!!
No Kidding!! If you want to see your business
explode with growth, take this exercise
seriously!!
Here is a hint to make this easier. Triple up.
Ask someone to:
Become a consultant.
If she says NO,
cross out one NO and ask her to:
Become a hostess.
If she says NO
again, cross out a second NO, and ask her
to:
Give you a customer referral.
If she says
NO again, you have already gotten three
NO’s!
You will never be better at getting
NO’s than you are right now.
The more you do this, the tougher it becomes to get
those 100 NO’s. You will find that
YES will creep in there every once in a
while. Don’t let the occasional
YES distract you from your primary goal
of getting those 100 NO’s.
Imagine the look on your neighbor’s face when she
tells you NO and you respond “Gee, thanks,
I’ve only got a few more NO’s to go and I am
finished for the day. For a second there, I
was afraid you were going to say
YES.”
Don’t take this exercise lightly. It works!!
Get those NO’s now while it is still easy for you to
do so.
Don’t wait until it becomes difficult for people to
tell you NO!
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One rainy afternoon I was driving along one of
the main streets
of town, taking those extra
precautions necessary when the roads are wet and
slick. Suddenly, my daughter, Aspen, spoke
up from her relaxed position in her seat. "Dad,
I'm thinking of something."
This
announcement usually meant she had been
pondering some
fact for a while, and was now
ready to expound all that her six-year-old
mind
had discovered. I was eager to hear.
"What are you thinking?" I asked. "The rain,"
she began, "is like sin, and the windshield
wipers are like God wiping our sins away."
After the chill bumps raced up my arms I was
able to respond. "That's really! good, Aspen."
Then my curiosity broke in. How far would this
little girl take
this revelation? So I
asked.. "Do you notice how the rain keeps on
coming? What does that tell you?" Aspen
didn't hesitate one moment with her answer:
"We keep on sinning, and God just keeps on
forgiving us."
I will always remember
this whenever I turn my wipers on.
Isn't it
distressing to know that when you mention this
message,
you're not sure what others believe,
or what they will think of you for doing so.
Funny how people can be more worried about what
others think of them,
than what God thinks
of them.
In order to see the rainbow, you must first
endure some rain.
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