The Holy Bible Is The Immutable Living Word Of the Eternal God
We Recommend The King James / A.V Bible,
with most other translations The Bible Is Used To Deceive
Breaking All Chains
Setting The Captives Free
Your Life - Overview
By Peter James from: www.peterjamesx.com
Recently I was sent the following document.
The author is unknown to me.
I found it very helpful, and it summarises
much of what I say on my Website.
Therefore, I decided to post it on the website.
It will give you serious food for thought.
It appears to be written by a 20 year old person.
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 index card files.
They were like the one 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 “People 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 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 names “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 could not 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 20 years,
to write each of these thousands, or even millions of cards?
But each card confimed 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 realised the files grew to contain their contents.
The cards were packed tightly,
and yet after two or three yards, (Meters)
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,
which I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked:
I felt a chill run through my body.
I pulled the file out only an inch, (2 Centimeters)
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 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 the 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 rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.
No on 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.
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 worse 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 shoulted 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 myh 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.
Comments – p.j.
You could easily add other cards yourself.
How many times have I blamed God for my problems?
How many times have I disobeyed Christ’ clear instructions?
How many times have I blasphemed the name of God?
How many times have I told God what He should do?
How many times have I used God’s name as a curse word?
The list is endless.
I need to make one thing clear.
Do not take this to mean that you have to go preaching the gospel
to everyone, and if you do not do this you are a failure.
This is a common teaching in Christianity.
Your present goal is to grow in Grace and Knowledge.
This means allowing Christ to transform you.
2 Peter 3:18 But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
To him be glory both now and for ever. Amen.
As you develop, Christ will lead all the people, whom He has already
assigned for you to help, to you.
You do not need to go looking for anyone.
Christ will lead the people to you, as you are ready to cope,
with each new situation.
It certainly does not mean,
that you have to spend many years being transformed at all.
Especially in these end times, you can be put to use,
much quicker than you might have thought.
The whole operation is under the control of Jesus Christ.
You can only give what you have.
You cannot help someone, when you have neither the knowledge,
nor the experience.
Giving someone a bible, and believing that this is the end of the matter,
is simply an error.
The bible is not written to be understood, as I have said countless times,
therefore you have to pray for wisdom, to understand the bible yourself,
so that you can effectively help others.
Avoid all false teachers.
If you are reading this, you already are aware that there is a vast resource
available to you on my website, to help you.
A system of support is available to help you.
My very harsh experience, is that when people are going to be helped,
there has to be follow up, otherwise everything is not only pointless,
it can be destructive to the person, who is now even more confused,
than before you thought, that you would help them.
Here are some documents, which should be carefully studied.
By Peter James from: www.peterjamesx.com