The Room

I just found this pamplet and I’m having a retarded day (which is fine) so I wanted to click clack across the keyboard track and share it with you because you might find it as wonderful as I do.

THE ROOM

In the Holy Bible we read “And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened, which is the bok of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works” (Revelation 20:12). This is evidence that God keeps a record.

Joshua Harris, a young man of Maryland, USA, was speeding some time in Puerto Rico. One night he had a drream. He felt God had given him this dream as a reproof for a lack o f the life0transforming power of Jesus Christ and His blood. We would like to share it with you.


(THE ROOM)

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features save for the one wall covered with small inde-xcard files. They were like the ones in librarys that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to cieling 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. The lifeless room with it’s 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 curiousity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their contents. 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 Muttered under My Breath at My Parents.” I never ceased to be suprised bythe contents.Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes there were 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 twenty years to write each of these [dead bug] thousands, possibly millions, of cards? But each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked “Songs I Have Listened To,” 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 music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew the file represented.

When I came to a file makred “Lustful Thoughts” I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test it’s size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its [sic] detailed contents. I felt [dirt smudge] to thinki that such a moment had been recorded.

Suddenly I felt an almost animal rage. One thought dominated my mind: “NO ONE MUST EVER SEE THESE CARDS!” “i HAVE TO DESTROY THEM!” In an insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its [sic[ size didn’t mattter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took the file 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, onl y to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its [sic] slot. Learning my forhead against the wall, I let uot a long selfpitying sigh. And then I saw it. The titlebore “People I Have Shared the Gospel With.” The handdle 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 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 rwos 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, njot 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 sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. why did He have to read everyone?

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 ove rand put His arm around me.

He could have said many things.

But He didn’t say a word.

He jsut 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 card and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

“NO!” I shouted, rushing to Him. All I could find t o say was “No, no,” as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn’t be on these cards. But here 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 continued 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 the door. There were still cards to be written.


I just found this pamplet and I'm having a retarded day (which is fine) so I wanted to click clack across the keyboard track and share it with you because you might find it as wonderful as I do.

I don’t find it wonderful, but to each his own.

To me it just brings up all the bad memories of how much the concept of shame ruled my life when I was a Christian. I even tried self-hypnosis to get myself to stop masturbating. I mean, WTF?! Why should I feel bad for having a healthy, sexual response to external stimuli?

Probably the most damaging thing Jesus ever said to me via scripture was “anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matthew 5:28). Sorry, Jesus. I generally like most of the things you have to say, but that one I just can’t agree with. Anyone who looks at someone else lustfully has simply experienced some neurotransmitter action which our brains were designed to do–designed by YOU, Jesus. So don’t blame me for automatically exhibiting behavior that you created me to exhibit.

Now, if that woman and I had sex with each other–and either she or I were monogamously committed to someone else, then you can call that adultery. Not that anyone should go to hell for it, but it definitely has the potential to cause problems for all those involved (possibly even for the entire community) and needs to be addressed in a way that indicates the seriousness of the actions. But that “way” will vary from tribe to tribe.

When I pulled out the file marked "Songs I Have Listened To," 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 music, but more by the vast amount of time I knew the file represented.

This I don’t even get. Why would someone feel guilty for listening to a lot of music?

its [sic]

By the way, the author of the pamphlet spelled “its” correctly. Standard Written American English spells the possessive form of “it” without an apostrophe in order to differentiate it from the contraction of the phrase “it is”.

Rix:

ROTFL. :smiley: I love your response, and I have to agree. My favorite part:

Sorry, Jesus. I generally like most of the things you have to say, but that one I just can't agree with. Anyone who looks at someone else lustfully has simply experienced some neurotransmitter action which our brains were designed to do--designed by YOU, Jesus.

Hee hee. Too cool.

Thanks, Willem.

I know I have a huge chip on my shoulder against Christianity a lot of times. I grew up in the system and fed the system a lot myself. That history leads to a lot of bitterness in me over certain issues. Sometimes I take it to far–sometimes to hilarious results.

I hope I haven’t scared you off, the great dragon. Feel free to comment on my comments.

I kind of doubt that you will find much overt support in this userbase for the type of message you shared, but then again, maybe you will.

I hope I haven't scared you off, the great dragon. Feel free to comment on my comments.

For some reason, I get this feeling, feel free to prove me wrong, but he won’t be back to respond. I mean someone who’s first post on a forum is something that has nothing to do with the forum itself (this could be debated) but at least his post referred absolutely nothing to this forum.

Hmm. I can’t help but wonder if this is spam?

I encourage mr. dragon to post again to prove to us that this was not a ‘sign on to the heathen board and post propaganda’ spam.

Alright, the connections to rewilding here are tenuous at best. In fact, they may not exist, but bear with me, 'cause the end result just might be hilarious.

I have noticed a strange internet meme lately referred to as lolcat or macrocats. Urban Scout posts pictures on his friends MySpace comments of cats doing weird things with captions explaining the weirdness. In other places, I have seen the same weirdness explained via weird phraseology. The top wordpress blog I see every time I log onto my wordpress dashboard is titled “I Can Has Cheeseburger?”.

I had no idea that Scout’s cat pictures and the weird blog title had a relation, but they do. I noticed someplace else that someone was using the “I can has…” phraseology, so I thought, okay there’s got to be some kind of joke behind this like “All your base are belong to us.” So I hit it with the one/two smack of Google and Wikipedia. The meme has been around the internet forever (i.e., about 2 years) and has even received press in time magazine. The bad grammar, apparently represents how cats would talk if they could speak English, and the grammar itself has a life of its own–similar to Leet (1337) with emphasis on using purposeful and consistent misspellings, IM abbreviations, and noun/verb disjointedness.

After a little more digging, I uncovered something wonderful: someone translated (paraphrased, really) the bible into this lolcat language. Okay, not the whole bible, but Genesis chapter 1 and part of chapter 2. As a former biblical scholar who studied Greek and Hebrew and had hopes of one day making a new translation of the bible into Kazakh, I appreciate any thoughtful bible hack. In Greek class in college, we used to translate passages into “scholar” and “street” so that we could get a feel for the value of both literal translations and applicable translations. Needless to say, the street translations were a lot more fun–and more meaningful. I put this practice to use over on Anthropik a while back with a street translation of some verses concerning sodomy.

So when I saw the lolcat bible, I was impressed. I applaud the skill the translator used in faithfully rendering biblical cliches into lolcat cliches. (“Let there be…” turns into “I can has…”).

I recommend taking a look at I Can Has Cheeseburger and the premise behind the lolcat bable before trying to read the actual lolcat bible, so that you will more fully appreciate the quality of the paraphrase.

And how is this related to rewilding? It’s not. Other than the fact that Scout showed me a print in the mud that I had to track. But even that… yeah, never mind. Essentially, I’m just jumping on the christianity train that great dragon started here and hijacking it toward my own twisted purposes.

Probably the most damaging thing Jesus ever said to me via scripture was "anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart"

If a person spied a stranger in the middle of an ass kicking, and thought thoughts of stepping in and helping out yet never did so, would this person already have committed a good deed (in their heart if nowhere else)?

And nice cats.

If a person spied a stranger in the middle of an ass kicking, and thought thoughts of stepping in and helping out yet never did so, would this person already have committed a good deed (in their heart if nowhere else)?

Man, if that holds true, then I’ve helped so many people (in my heart).

And nice cats.

Yeah, they kept me in stitches all morning.

Huh. I think it’s interesting that the human was feeling shame - but Jesus was ready to say it’s all okay and help him erase that shame by signing his name over all his actions, reminding him that his actions were all divine actions, and helping the dude to continue on with his life without the burdens of the past.

I think Jesus was that guys version of the mythical Wizard archetype, or “the transformer.”

What does it mean to be “free from sin” anyhow? Does that mean Jesus didn’t even believe in the stuff? Then again, saying “Forgive them Father” insinuates that there was something to forgive. I’m sure there are lot of other examples. But who knows what Jesus said? Some dudes with their own ambitions wrote that shit down.

I just had this dream. Wow, cool. & for some reason it reminded me of this website so I’ll post it here even though it’s going to waste everyones time. I was on a moive set and there were all these people dressed in camo standing around a gigantic droopy tree and they all looked braindead like they were about to start drooling any second. So I started nitpicking at all the things that could be improved and how and then I got fed up and climbed the tree and reached my hand into a hole in the tree and pulled myself into a room with an old crone. I asked her “Why does this person waste all this energy and money on things that only feeds their ego?” and the lady said “Did you expect anything else? Do you expect them to care for you? By doing so you only sabotage everything, and you do so knowingly because you’re in love with heartbreak.” and then she kissed me on the forehead and I walked into another room which was a city and a fellow incited a duel with me. I argued the point of such a duel and one by one took away all his weapons and threw them into a tremendous bonfire which was burning in a cul-de-sac nested in imposing lightless skyscrapers. The guy walked away and I was approached by another guy on a horse who said “This city was built before the first night and that fire has always roared. I congradulate you for your clear thinking.” Then the horse reared up and ran off on two legs, the two in the air kicking savagely, while he was laughing this laugh that shook the ground and the buildings like a major earthquake.

I’m at a loss. Anyone care to intepret?

I grew up in church…in fact, a Sunday School teacher read this exact story to us when I was in jr. high or high school. I felt guilty for being attracted to girls, I felt guilty for listening to music, I felt guilty for other innocent pleasures like masturbation. Holy cow…it is amazing I turned out ok looking back.

I still struggle a bit with Christianity. I was raised with it and it is an ingrained part of me. Part of me wants to hold on to parts of it. But I certainly shook off the form of Christianity that is so repressive and guilt ridden.

I’ve been reading a lot of the Transendentalists lately…Emerson, Thororeu and the like…their form of spirituality really connects to me because Nature is a large part of their spirituality. This rings true for me too.

I still hold to aspects of Christianity, but sometimes I wonder if that is just my upbringing that I cannot let go of, or if it is what I truly believe.

Ha…this thread brings back some memories…some of the crazy bullshit that I was taught as a child that caused me to be repressed in many ways (intellectually, sexually, artistically, etc.) for so long. I think I still deal with it a bit today, and am still trying to reconcile my spiritual beliefs with that of my childhood.

Sounds familiar, kindofblue. These articles reflect some of my attempts at reconciling it all, so maybe they’ll help you:

Betraying the Son of Man
A Very Different Bible