Thursday, September 28
you came for me
to give to me
more than a life
a life more abundantly
you died for me
you love me so,
Jesus.
im back Jesus,
back in your arms.
wo xiang qiao qiao de li kai,
bu xing ma?
to give to me
more than a life
a life more abundantly
you died for me
you love me so,
Jesus.
im back Jesus,
back in your arms.
wo xiang qiao qiao de li kai,
bu xing ma?
19:25
Tuesday, September 26
THANKS WANLING FOR THIS EMAIL
Jesus changed my life.
so can He change yours.
You know sometimes when you are in a hurry,you don't have time to read
emails that friends and family
and to you, so you just close it and think
to yourself that you will read them later, but then you never get around to
it? Read this email. Don't close. I don't care if you forward it on or
delete it afterwards - just read it.
It's about an essay written by a teenage boy called "The Room". I hate the
thought of what my file room will look like. May you be as moved and
blessed as I was when I read it. Thanks for letting me share it with you.
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 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. He was driving home from a friend's house
when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck an
utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed
power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores 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,"
"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?with 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." -Philippians 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 also touch
their lives. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how
about yours?
IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD,
IT IS THIS ONE, FOR THE CHRISTIAN OR NOT! MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
Jesus changed my life.
so can He change yours.
You know sometimes when you are in a hurry,you don't have time to read
emails that friends and family
and to you, so you just close it and think
to yourself that you will read them later, but then you never get around to
it? Read this email. Don't close. I don't care if you forward it on or
delete it afterwards - just read it.
It's about an essay written by a teenage boy called "The Room". I hate the
thought of what my file room will look like. May you be as moved and
blessed as I was when I read it. Thanks for letting me share it with you.
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 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. He was driving home from a friend's house
when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck an
utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed
power line and was electrocuted.
The Moores 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,"
"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?with 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." -Philippians 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 also touch
their lives. My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how
about yours?
IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD,
IT IS THIS ONE, FOR THE CHRISTIAN OR NOT! MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!
20:19
Sunday, September 24
im going aus and malaysia this holiday! fun :D
but i may stay at aus for good now. oh... mixed feelings.
but i may stay at aus for good now. oh... mixed feelings.
14:55
Tuesday, September 19
alright, after venting my anger. i still had some left but whatever. it shall all be washed away and be forgotten cos i have grown. i dont want to be the yixin i used to be. the one who wallows in self pity so STAND TALL YIXIN!
21:50
Tuesday, September 5
http://www.flickr.com/photos/lovestained/217554308/
i love this picture of us.
AHGONG, may this picture always remind us of the times we spent with you and the time you bonded this phay clan.
restinpeace andmay you not suffer anymore. (:
love you a million ah gong.
this entry is dedicated to you...
i love this picture of us.
AHGONG, may this picture always remind us of the times we spent with you and the time you bonded this phay clan.
restinpeace andmay you not suffer anymore. (:
love you a million ah gong.
this entry is dedicated to you...
20:20
Monday, September 4
how i really wish that coach stanley is still around. how i wish i'll never have to face this departure and its all a dream. who came up with the "brillant" idea of having LIYANYAN. you seriously have no brains lah. i dont care how youre gonna take it. how come this part of the year everyone is departing. how come i have to take it lightly and pretend i dont care. even though im happy for them going to a place where good things are installed for them, i still cant help feeling a sense of loss yet again...
to mr ramu aka mojojojo: we all love you and no matter where you are, the memories still remains and we treasure you lots! have loads of fun at LA. i really cant wait to see you on christmas eve (: hope i can make it at the airport to welcome you back (:
to sir stanley aka boss: never wanted you to leave and we're still fighting strong. maybe a miracle would happen and you'll still be here to coach us. i promise i'll try not to be the coward i was and not dare to spar properly. but even if you go i'll be glad for you cos no more sickening school to hold you down cos you'll be soaring up high! blessed endeavours
to alex aka big sister :D :even though youre not around anymore im glad there's advanced technology to keep us connected. really happy to hear from you each time you blog or tag. hope you get into NAFA, the place of your dreams with the GRANT. really proud of you my sis cos you dared to stand out and stand up for your beliefs. its really courageous. cant wait to hear good news from you about your new school x)
to mr ramu aka mojojojo: we all love you and no matter where you are, the memories still remains and we treasure you lots! have loads of fun at LA. i really cant wait to see you on christmas eve (: hope i can make it at the airport to welcome you back (:
to sir stanley aka boss: never wanted you to leave and we're still fighting strong. maybe a miracle would happen and you'll still be here to coach us. i promise i'll try not to be the coward i was and not dare to spar properly. but even if you go i'll be glad for you cos no more sickening school to hold you down cos you'll be soaring up high! blessed endeavours
to alex aka big sister :D :even though youre not around anymore im glad there's advanced technology to keep us connected. really happy to hear from you each time you blog or tag. hope you get into NAFA, the place of your dreams with the GRANT. really proud of you my sis cos you dared to stand out and stand up for your beliefs. its really courageous. cant wait to hear good news from you about your new school x)
18:36