Brian’s parents had forgotten all about the essay until a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager’s locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County. You see Brian had been dead only a few hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them. Notes from classmates and teachers, his homework. Everything.

The Moore’s were so proud of their son that they framed a copy of the essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.

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  ”  LustfulThoughts,”    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.

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.

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

If you feel the same way share this story with as many people as you can so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My  ”  People I Shared the Gospel With”    file just got bigger, how about yours?