The Room

First of all, let me say that I did not write any of the following. This is incredibly thought-provoking and quite simply speaks for itself. Prepare to be humbled.


This is excellent and really gets you thinking about what will happen in Heaven. 
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 Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County.

Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and 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."

Here is Brian's essay entitled:

"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," " 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 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, 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 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.

" For God so loved the
world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16

But Seek First His Kingdom and His Righteousness

I've been stressed out lately. Except that stressed out is something of an understatement.

I'm getting married in 25 days. Don't get me wrong--that I'm excited for. So excited, in fact, that having to wait adds considerably to the stress. Over the course of the next 25 days, there are approximately 10,000 little things that I have to remember to do/get done.

In addition to wedding preparations, I'm preparing to take my NCLEX (otherwise known as National Council Licensure Examination). Passing this test means that I will be a registered nurse (RN) and therefore eligible to actually use my degree and practice nursing in the state of Colorado. Not passing...well, I'm sure you get the idea. At this point, I'm still waiting for approval from the state to schedule a date to test. I was told that processing takes up to three weeks, which puts me dangerously close to my wedding date. All I want is to be able to take my exam before I get married and leave the country. Unfortunately, that's out of my hands. On top of all this, I have to find time to study and adequately prepare amidst all the wedding craziness, moving, applying for jobs, etc.

This is where I have to remind myself to breathe.

On June 4th I submitted my application for my dream job: the New Graduate Residency Program at Children's Hospital Colorado. On June 5th I received a follow-up email requesting more information. Since then: silence. Now I'm finding myself stuck between wanting this job more than anything else in the world and trying not to get my hopes up. Hence, more stress.

On top of all of this, I'm trying to move, and I currently have stuff at my apartment in Colorado Springs,  Aaron's and my apartment in Westminster, and my parents' house in Fort Collins. In theory it almost sounds convenient, but in actuality it's incredibly stressful being spread out across three counties. There are people I love dearly and want to spend time with in each place; I just can't be in three places at once.

Needless to say, I'm feeling overwhelmed and spread unreasonably thin. To complicate matters even more, there's the realization that this is supposed to be the most exciting time in my life thus far: graduating from college, becoming an RN, finding a job, getting married to the love of my life...except the stress of all these things is significantly overshadowing the excitement.

The Lord has been ever so gently placing Matthew chapter 6 on my heart lately; although up until today I've done a remarkable job of presenting him with my massive to-do list as if it's more important. But He is gracious and persistent, and proceeded to wake me up before my alarm this morning so that I had no excuse not to sit and listen.

Matthew 6:25-34 is a very familiar passage to me; however, the Lord never ceases to use it to teach me something new.

The Cure for Anxiety
25 "For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor tag her into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? 27 And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? 28 And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, 29 yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like on of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! 31 Do not worry then, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we wear for clothing?' 32 For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. 34 So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (NASB, emphasis mine)

This passage never ceases to humble and amaze me. The words, "You of little faith!" get me every time. Through all my worrying about the future, I'm failing to act on what I claim to believe. God already knows what I need! He has graciously provided for me for 22 years, and I don't believe he's going to stop now.

The verse that really stuck out to me this time is verse 33:

"But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."


I've read this verse a hundred times. I memorized it at STP, for Pete's sake! It seems silly, but I'm only just now understanding what it truly means:

FIRST:
Seek the Lord--
Spend time in the Word--
Pray--
Fellowship--
Worship--
Serve--
Give--
Keep your eyes on Jesus--


And everything else will fall in to place.


It breaks my heart to have to learn over and over again that when I worry and am anxious, it usually means that my priorities are painfully out of order. But the Lord is patient and gracious and ever willing to remind me as often as I need Him to...

Nothing else matters but Jesus.

Eucharisteo

I recently started reading "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp--a book that outlines the journey of intentionally embracing a lifestyle of radical gratitude and learning to find God amidst the mediocrity of everyday life.

She begins by discussing this idea of eucharisteo, which in the original Greek translates to "he gave thanks." She does a simple word study:

- The root word of eucharisteo is charis, which means "grace." [Grace is enveloped by thanksgiving.]

- Chara, the derivative of charis, means "joy."

And so, she poses the question: Is the height of our holy joy dependent on the depths of our thanksgiving?

Lately I've found myself wrestling with this idea of finding joy amidst my anxiety. Amidst the busyness of classes, preparing for graduation, applying for jobs, planning a wedding, and finding time for the people I love in between. Some days, life feels so crazy and busy that it begins to feel somewhat like I'm going through the motions--striving to get to this place that is life after graduation, after the wedding, after finding a job. When things will finally settle down. But I want to live fully right here, where God has me right now.

I'm not interested in transient pleasure. I'm after real, pure, holy joy--the kind that makes one positively radiate. I love this idea that Voskamp is presenting: that the deepest, purest, holiest joy is simply obtained through the giving of thanks.

Well, I'd like to think that I'm thankful for everything.

But I love this next thought: "...slapping a sloppy brush of thanksgiving over everything in my life leaves me deeply thankful for very few things in my life" (p. 57). How true and so very humbling.

It's one thing to be generally grateful for what you have, but another entirely to be specifically thankful for each individual blessing. One of the author's friends challenges her to make a list of one thousand blessings that she is thankful for, and I decided to take that challenge as well. It sounds a bit daunting, but even after the first five things I wrote down I couldn't help but smile. The simplest things that bring a smile to my face, but that I've never actually thought to thank God for:

1. Waking up in time to watch the sun rise

2. Laughing until it hurts

3. A smile from a stranger

Really, the littlest things that happen every single day, and somehow I've managed to neglect to see them for what they are: gifts from God. And so I'm on a mission--a journey, if you will--to discover joy and life in the smallest of blessings, and to train my heart to seek out opportunities for gratitude.

"When we lay the soil of our hard lies open to the rain of grace and let joy penetrate our cracked and dry places, let joy soak into our broken skin and deep crevices, life grows." - Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

(un)Familiar Territory

Over the past couple of weeks, my anxiety has begun to resurface.

It didn't take much time for my steady downward spiral to plummet into an all-out nosedive. To put it simply, I felt like I had completely lost all hope. I began believing the lies that I would never be set free from this bondage and that I was more or less a lost cause. I had even reached the point of neglecting to pray and spend time in the Word because I was so sure it was no use. In other words, I had hit rock bottom.

Again.

It's one thing to know the truth--to be able to recite a Bible verse here and there and know the general gist of what the Bible says about situations like this. It's an entirely different thing to believe it in your heart every minute of every bad day. Every second of every panic attack. I know the truth; but for the past few weeks it's felt as though my mind has been dragging my pathetic, hopeless little heart along with it. Let me tell you, firsthand--that's not a place anyone wants to be. I wanted more, but I was tired of searching for it and tired of feeling as though every inch of progress I've made in the last two years had been lost. I was disappointed, hopeless, and heartbroken. But the Lord refused to leave me there.

This morning after church I was talking to my dear friend, Jossie, about my situation. She patiently listened and gracefully spoke truth into my life in exactly the way I needed to hear it. I mentioned to her that I'd even gotten to the point of asking myself if I actually wanted to be miserable, because I couldn't understand why I kept finding myself back in this place. One thing she said that really stuck out to me was that because I have been battling anxiety for so many years, it's become familiar territory. As horrible as it sounds, and as much as I hate to admit it, it's true: I tend to be more comfortable in this place of fear and severe anxiety than I am otherwise because it's what I've grown accustomed to over the years. I let anxiety become my default setting; and in the process, I inadvertently allowed it to take Christ's place in my heart. I had surrendered myself so fully to my anxiety and resigned myself to a life of fear and grief that I let it push God completely out of the picture. It sounds odd, letting something that I hate so much become the center of my life; but when it comes right down to it, I had simply given in and accepted that this is how I was destined to live.

I was so very wrong. My conversation with Jossie today gave me a lot to think about. Then I came home and read today's entry in my devotional, which you can read here: http://kailabowlin.blogspot.com/2012/04/streams-in-desert.html. I believe with all my heart that God was speaking directly to me through the words on that page.

I understand now that by actively surrendering myself to my anxiety and insecurities, I was actively putting distance between myself and God. Now I find myself again in this place of repentance, bearing my soul and presenting him with a shattered heart once again. He is the only one who can rescue me from this pit of self-loathing that I so shamelessly dug for myself. I'm starting over. I'm believing for healing and for restoration. I'm believing for salvation despite my prideful, sinful insistence on maintaining such a tight grasp on my own life. Rather than surrendering to the darkness, I'm choosing to surrender to the Light, and praying that God will remove every trace of familiarity associated with my anxiety and replace it with His own perfect peace.

And now, all that I can do is put my soul in one position--one of continual repentance and unyielding trust--and keep it there.

Streams in the Desert

Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him. (Job 13:15)

Because I know whom I have believed. (2 Timothy 1:12)

I will not doubt, though all my ships at sea

Come drifting home with broken masts an sails;

I will believe the Hand that never fails,

From seeming evil works to good for me.

And thug I weep because those sails are tattered,

Still will I cry, while my best hopes lie shattered:

"I trust in Thee."

I will not doubt, though all my prayers return

Unanswered from the still, white realm above;

I will believe it is an all-wise love

That has refused these things for which I yearn;

And though at times I cannot keep from grieving,

Yet the pure passion of my fixed believing

Undimmed will burn.

I will not doubt, though sorrows fall like rain,

And troubles swarm like bees about a hive.

I will believe the heights for which I strive

Are only reached by anguish and by pain;

And though I groan and writhe beneath my crosses,

Yet I will see through my severest losses

The greater gain.

I will not doubt. Well anchored is this faith,

Like some staunch ship, my soul braves every gale;

So strong its courage that it will not fail

To face the mighty unknown sea of death.

Oh, may I cry, though body leaves the spirit,

"I do not doubt," so listening worlds may hear it,

With my last breath.

An old seaman once said, "In fierce storms we must do one thing, for there is only one way to survive: we must put the ship in a certain position and keep her there." And this, dear Christian, is what you must do.

Sometimes, like Paul, you cannot see the sun or the stars to help you navigate when the storm is bearing down on you. This is when you can only do one thing, for there is only one way. Reason cannot help you, past experiences will shed no light, and even prayer will bring no consolation. Only one course remains: you must put your soul in one position and keep it there.

You must anchor yourself steadfastly upon the Lord. And then, come what may--whether wind, waves, rough seas, thunder, lightning, jagged rocks, or roaring breakers--you must lash yourself to the helm, firmly holding your confidence in God's faithfulness, His covenant promises, and His everlasting love in Christ Jesus. Richard Fuller

[from Streams in the Desert by L.B. Cowman]

Fragile and Rejoicing

I'm very fragile.

I'm not confident.

I struggle with anxiety.

I worry too much.

I let little things get to me.

I constantly compare myself to other people.

I tend to be a control freak and

I'm afraid of not being good enough.

Most of the time I'm convinced that these aspects of my fragility add up to one big character flaw. However, recently I've decided that's not the case.

You see, I believe that I'm fragile by design.

These are certainly things I need to work on--no doubt about it. But it's not my job to be bulletproof. Psalm 103:14 says,

"For He knows how weak we are; He remembers we are only dust." (NLT)

How humbling! God knows my weaknesses and limitations. And while I am called to believe in Him, trust in Him, and faithfully serve and worship Him, I can do all that without having to be Superwoman. God knows how fragile I am. I believe with all my heart that God doesn't look down on fragile souls in disappointment.

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'"...

I think I've probably referenced this verse in a blog a hundred times before. But right now, in this moment, I find it absolutely breathtaking.

..."Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me." - 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV).

The enemy does an excellent job of presenting my fragility in a negative light and getting me down on myself. But lately the Lord is showing me how being as fragile as I am is a constant reminder of how much I need God.

And that is something to rejoice in :)

Words to live by:

Today is the day.

Live your life

with abandon.

Be courageous and wild at heart.

Be your own hero.

Follow your dreams,

no matter how big they are.

Fall in love.

Be generous and truthful.

Inspire someone.

Take chances and be spontaneous.

Make friends wherever you go.

Create happiness.

Smile at strangers,

we're on this journey together.

This is your life...

make it beautiful.