"THE ROOM" & "The Problem Science has with GOD"

"THE ROOM" as written by a 17-Year-Old Boy.

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 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. 

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 and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

"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 Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16

An Atheist Professor of Philosophy was speaking to his Class on the Problem Science has with GOD, the ALMIGHTY.

He asked one of his New Christian Students to stand and . . .

Professor: You are a Christian, aren't you, son?

Student: Yes, sir.

Professor: So, you Believe in GOD?

Student: Absolutely, sir.

Professor: Is GOD Good?

Student: Sure.

Professor: Is GOD ALL - POWERFUL?

Student: Yes.

Professor: My Brother died of Cancer even though he Prayed to GOD to Heal him. Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill. But GOD didn't. How is this GOD good then? Hmm?
(Student was silent)

Professor: You can't answer, can you? Let's start again, Young Fella. Is GOD Good?

Student: Yes.

Professor: Is Satan good?

Student: No.

Professor: Where does Satan come from?

Student: From . . . GOD . . . .

Professor: That's right. Tell me son, is there evil in this World?

Student: Yes.

Professor: Evil is everywhere, isn't it? And GOD did make everything. Correct?

Student: Yes.

Professor: So who created evil?
(Student did not answer)

Professor: Is there Sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things exist in the World, don't they?

Student: Yes, sir.

Professor: So, who Created them?
(Student had no answer)

Professor: Science says you have 5 Senses you use to Identify and Observe the World around you... Tell me, son . . . Have you ever Seen GOD?

Student: No, sir.

Professor: Tell us if you have ever Heard your GOD?

Student: No, sir.

Professor: Have you ever Felt your GOD, Tasted your GOD, Smelt your GOD? Have you ever had any Sensory Perception of GOD for that matter?

Student: No, sir. I'm afraid I haven't.

Professor: Yet you still Believe in HIM?

Student: Yes.

Professor: According to Empirical, Testable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says your GOD doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?

Student: Nothing... I only have my Faith.

Professor: Yes, Faith. And that is the Problem Science has.

Student: Professor, is there such a thing as Heat?

Professor: Yes.

Student: And is there such a thing as Cold?

Professor: Yes.

Student: No, sir. There isn't. 
(The Lecture Theatre became very quiet with this turn of events)

Student: Sir, you can have Lots of Heat, even More Heat, Superheat, Mega Heat, White Heat, a Little Heat or No Heat. But we don't have anything called Cold. We can hit 458 Degrees below Zero, which is No Heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as Cold. Cold is only a Word we use to describe the Absence of Heat. We cannot Measure Cold. Heat is Energy. Cold is Not the Opposite of Heat, sir, just the Absence of it.
(There was Pin-Drop Silence in the Lecture Theatre)

Student: What about Darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as Darkness?

Professor: Yes. What is Night if there isn't Darkness?

Student: You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is the Absence of Something. You can have Low Light, Normal Light, Bright Light, Flashing Light. . . . But if you have No Light constantly, you have nothing and its called Darkness, isn't it? In reality, Darkness isn't. If it is, you would be able to make Darkness Darker, wouldn't you?

Professor: So what is the point you are making, Young Man?

Student: Sir, my point is your Philosophical Premise is flawed.

Professor: Flawed? Can you explain how?

Student: Sir, you are working on the Premise of Duality. You argue there is Life and then there is Death, a Good GOD and a Bad GOD. You are viewing the Concept of GOD as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, Science can't even explain a Thought. It uses Electricity and Magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view Death as the Opposite of Life is to be ignorant of the fact that Death cannot exist as a Substantive Thing. Death is Not the Opposite of Life: just the Absence of it. Now tell me, Professor, do you teach your Students that they evolved from a Monkey?

Professor: If you are referring to the Natural Evolutionary Process, yes, of course, I do.

Student: Have you ever observed Evolution with your own eyes, sir?
(The Professor shook his head with a Smile, beginning to realize where the Argument was going)

Student: Since no one has ever observed the Process of Evolution at work and Cannot even prove that this Process is an On-Going Endeavor, Are you not teaching your Opinion, sir? Are you not a Scientist but a Preacher?
(The Class was in Uproar)

Student: Is there anyone in the Class who has ever seen the Professor's Brain?
(The Class broke out into Laughter)

Student: Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor's Brain, Felt it, touched or Smelt it?
No one appears to have done so. So, according to the Established Rules of Empirical, Stable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says that You have No Brain, sir. With all due respect, sir, how do we then Trust your Lectures, sir?
(The Room was Silent... The Professor stared at the Student, his face unfathomable)

Professor: I guess you'll have to take them on Faith, son.

Student: That is it sir . . . Exactly! The Link between Man & GOD is FAITH. That is all that Keeps Things Alive and Moving.

NB:
That student was Albert Einstein. 

OOW

2010