No Mires Atras By OS MENINOS DE DEUS

A Senseless Act

The Room

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


If you feel the same way forward it to 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?


IF THERE IS ONE EMAIL THAT I HAVE READ THAT NEEDS TO GO AROUND THE WORLD, IT IS THIS ONE, PLEASE PASS THIS TO EVERY ONE YOU KNOW, CHRISTIAN OR NOT! "LET'S FILL OUR OWN FILE CARD" AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU ALL!


You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did or not, but you will know and so will He.

Happy Easter

My Dad sent me this for Easter & I wanted to Share it with you.

"This fellow, Allen Levi, is a friend of my sisters and comes form my home town. Some of you may remember me playing a few of his songs, ie: ‘The Harlot” etc, before?

Julienne and I had the pleasure of meeting him, having a long chat about our lives, and listening to him perform for and connect with a group of up and coming high school graduates. He’s a prolific song writer and writes about many life experiences, even about his dog Tyler and gold fish Moses, ha!  

Here’s a sweet song he got in honor of Easter and some precious special needs kids and their caretakers. Maybe you’d want to play it for devotions, with your kids or send to friends if you like. Enjoy!

May we all shine with His faces of love during this special season of His resurrection, and throughout eternity.

Love and prayers,

Faces of Easter

In April, I participated in a fundraising event for Easter Seals in Columbus, Georgia. Though I don’t know a lot about the organization, I do know that its focus is the care and rehabilitation of the physically and mentally disabled. The director in Columbus is Sharon Borger, a Christian who expresses her love for Christ in the work she does at Easter Seals.

On the day I was to sing at the fundraiser, which fell during the week before Easter, I watched a slide show which was to run while I sang. The images there of grins, eyes, and faces of kids inspired this song. I was surrounded by Easter lilies as I sang the song, hence the reference to lilies in the last verse.

This is one of those songs, of which I would imagine I’ve done hundreds or more, which is written for one very specific occasion. They get sung one time and usually forgotten. I recorded this for Mrs. Borger and her staff, and thought you might enjoy hearing it. While it addresses a particular organization, it speaks, in a broader sense, about any exercise of compassion that we might involve ourselves in.

Is it not one of the profound privileges of Christ’s followers to be His face, His hands, His heart to the world? While every attempt to fill those roles, even on our best days, will meet with woeful imperfection, we are still image bearers. And there is even the prospect that He will someday say "well done."

Faces of Easter

This is the playground and these are the kids,

They are different and precious and rare,

This is their laughter and these are their eyes,

Looking up now for someone to care,

These are the faces that make us look down

Faces as tender and deep as the dove,

We are the faces of Easter to them,

We are the faces of Love.

These common expressions, these uncommon kids,

Just look at the way that they grin,

Sensing, i’m sure, they are wanted and loved,

Knowing they’re safe here with friends,

These little hands cannot reach up to us,

But we can reach down from above,

We are the faces of Easter to them,

We are the faces of Love.

These are the ones we could choose to ignore,

But Easter will not let it be,

"whatever you do to the least," He has said,

"this you have done unto Me."

Consider the lilies that grow in the field,

The wind leaves them broken and bruised,

But these we can harbor and hide from the storm,

If we’ll just do the work we should do,

Easter time teaches abundantly clear,

That love means to suffer and give,

We are the faces of Easter to them,

We are the faces of Love.

(Copyright 2000, allen c. levi)

Isn't that Beautiful? May you all have a Happy Easter filled with love.

Here's another song for Easter.

So you think you Can't Dance?.....

No more excuses!!

Miley Cyrus - The Climb

The Climb - Miley Cyrus

I can almost see it

That dream I'm dreaming but

There's a voice inside my head sayin,

You'll never reach it,

Every step I'm taking,

Every move I make feels

Lost with no direction

My faith is shaking but I

Got to keep trying

Got to keep my head held high

There's always going to be another mountain

I'm always going to want to make it move

Always going to be an uphill battle,

Sometimes you going to have to lose,

Ain't about how fast I get there,

Ain't about what?s waiting on the other side

It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing,

The chances I'm taking

Sometimes they knock me down but

No I'm not breaking

I may not know it

But these are the moments that

I'm going to remember most yeah

Just got to keep going

And I,

I got to be strong

Just keep pushing on, cause

There's always going to be another mountain

I'm always going to want to make it move

Always going to be an uphill battle,

Sometimes I'm going to have to lose,

Ain't about how fast I get there,

Ain't about what's waiting on the other side

It's the climb

There's always going to be another mountain

I'm always going to want to make it move

Always going to be an uphill battle,

Sometimes you going to have to lose,

Ain't about how fast I get there,

Ain't about what's waiting on the other side

It's the climb

Keep on moving

Keep climbing

Keep the faith baby

It's all about

It's all about

The climb

Keep the faith

Keep your faith

Never think you're too small to make a difference

Don't take the Swine Flu Jab

People are a little bit like durian

Seeing the good and possibilities in others can be likened to loving some of those odd and oftentimes highly sought-after fruits, like durian*. Durian is an acquired taste, and yet there are people fanatically dedicated to durian. Others find that hard to believe. *(The edible fruit of a tree, Durio zibethinus, in Southeast Asia, which has a hard, prickly rind, a highly flavored, pulpy flesh, and an unpleasant odor.)

     What makes people crave a fruit like durian? What makes them elevate it to a "king of fruits" status? Why do they light up when they see clumps of those prickly, greenish-brown husks hanging liberally from vendor stalls? How do they get past the pungent, even revolting, odor? What makes them fight their way through the thick, prickly outer husk in order to reach the inside? What makes them obsessed with this fruit that smells like—as some people describe it—dirty socks?

    They've fallen in love with what's inside those prickly green husks. They've made it past the prickly outer shell, past the foul smell, and they have tasted the exquisite center. And once they've tasted it, they'll do whatever it takes—clothes-peg their nose and fight with their bare hands if need be—in order to get to that delicious, sweet, creamy center again and again.

     Loving people and seeing the good and possibilities in others is similar to getting to the heart of a durian. People can sometimes be prickly. They can have thick, crusty outer shells. Their presence can sometimes repel rather than attract. People can sometimes be stinky—when they do and say stinky things, or when they sin, as everyone does at times. But to the true people-lover, those barriers and obstacles merely add to the challenge and excitement of reaching that heart of gold—that sweet center of the inner person that you know is there. If it were any easier to get close to people, some of the excitement would be lost, and some of the allure of the adventure would be lost.

     Durian is the king of fruits to some. Likewise, people are My crowning creations on Earth—each one having a heart and soul that is more valuable and precious than all that this world has to offer. Anyone who has reached inside another's heart, and who has seen what lies beneath the often crusty, prickly shell, has seen the soft and often hurting center. Within that center lies great potential. Within that center lies good. Within that center lies possibility that just needs to be believed in and highlighted.

     Once you have touched the center of someone, and then someone else, and then someone else, you start to see that beneath all the layers and tough exterior, everyone has that special place inside that needs to be loved, that needs to be believed in, that needs to be encouraged and appreciated.

    People need passionate and dedicated friends and family who love them, who know that there is good and possibility deep inside of them, and who will do anything to reach that beautiful center.

The Greater Victory

       BELOVED, REMEMBER: YOURS IS A GREATER VICTORY than those even who got the victory which was obvious, victory which was evident, victory over the trial, experiencing the tribulation and affliction and got the victory.
      BUT THERE WERE THOSE OF US WHO WOULD NOT ACCEPT DELIVERANCE, who have been tortured that we "might obtain a better resurrection"--better than what?--Better than our dear beloved brethren who had such great conquests and victories and did so many mighty works and miracles.
     THEY "QUENCHED THE VIOLENCE OF FIRE, ESCAPED THE EDGE OF THE SWORD, out of weakness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens," and "received their dead even raised to life again."--Oh how they preached that the greatest thing would be to raise the dead, the greatest thing would be to perform many mighty signs and wonders and miracles!
     GOD SOMETIMES GETS HIS GREATEST VICTORIES OUT OF SEEMING DEFEAT. He does His greatest miracles out of the most impossible situations, and He gets His greatest glory from seeming, utter, absolute failure.

M.D.