Bonnie's Daily Scriptures - Recently Updated Pages

THE DAILY SERMON-LIFE LESSONS

BonnieL. — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 04:11:46 CST

DAILY WORDS AND THOUGHTS

BonnieL. — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 04:08:15 CST

HOME, SHARING WORDS OF HOPE.

BonnieL. — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 03:59:03 CST

Father, this isn't my life, it belongs to You. Amen.

Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered

with shame. Psalm 34:5

WEEKLY BIBLE STUDY

BonnieL. — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 09:52:51 CST

LOOK UP ANY PASSAGE WITH THIS BIBLE GATEWAY LINK.

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/

UNIQUE ONLINE BIBLE STUDY

The Importance of Truth

Some people teach that it does not matter what you believe in religion, as long as you're sincere. Others say, "One faith is as good as another." But if it really did not matter what you believe, then truth would be worthless! A man who believed error would be just as well off as a man who believed the truth. In John 8:32 Jesus said: "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." Jesus thought that truth was very important. He said we must know the truth, because it can make us free. Free from what? Verse 34 shows that He was talking about freedom from sin. But if truth is necessary to free us from sin, then how could we please God if we believe error instead of truth? In Matthew 7:15 Jesus warned: "Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves." No one wants to learn that he has been misled by a false teacher, but Jesus warned us to beware of this very thing. Why would He warn us if there were no danger? 1 John 4:1 says we should examine religious teachings closely because "many false prophets have gone out into the world." Often today one religious teacher will teach one thing and then another will teach just the opposite. How can both be right? How can we know which is telling the truth and which is speaking error? God gave us the Bible exactly for this reason. Like the Bereans in Acts 17:11, we should "search the scriptures daily" to learn if we are being taught the truth. To please God, we must know the truth, and that truth is found in God's word.

HAVE A BLESSED WEEK.

PRAYER ROOM

BonnieL. — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 10:00:02 CST

LINK TO SUBMIT ANY PRAYER REQUEST THAT YOU MAY HAVE.
http://www.prayerlinksministries.com/PrayerReq.htm

POETRY WISDOM

BonnieL. — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 09:57:43 CST

FREE TO JOIN CHRISTIAN CHAT ROOMS AND ALSO FREE TO JOIN ARMS OF CHRIST FORUM.

BonnieL. — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 11:43:22 CDT

NICE CHRISTIAN LINKS AND RELATED WEBSITES

BonnieL. — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 10:00:04 CDT

BEST RECIPE LINKS.

BonnieL. — Sun, 28 Sep 2008 10:15:28 CDT

BEAUTIFUL PICTURES TO VIEW

BonnieL. — Sun, 28 Sep 2008 09:35:33 CDT

NICE PHOTOS
From PD Photo.org

GAME ROOM. PLAY FREE ONLINE PUZZLES AND GAMES.

BonnieL. — Thu, 15 May 2008 09:59:09 CDT

the room by Brian Moore

tteerrrryy — Thu, 10 Jan 2008 13:58:35 CST

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 endlessly 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 write 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 "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 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 an 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 it's 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, 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.