Posted on

Two Roads

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. –Robert Frost
railroad
Frost talked about two roads. The Psalmist talked about two realities: a tree and chaff. Personalize this as a prayer. Put your name in the blanks:
Blessed is _____________ who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his (or her) delight is in the law of the LORD, and on his law he (or she) meditates day and night. ___________ is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that __________ does, he prospers. (Psalm 1:1-3)
If you do not know Christ, or if you’re living your life by your plan, not God’s, fill your name in these blanks:
The wicked are not so, but are like chaff that the wind drives away. Therefore _________________ will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; for the LORD knows the way of the righteous, but the way of ___________ will perish. (Psalm 1:4-6 ESV)
Will you take the road less traveled by?
Posted on

The Room

Joshua Harris, pastor in New England, had this dream years ago as a teenager. It was originally published in New Attitude magazine in 1995. If you struggle with guilt over past, forgiven sins, this is a must read. If you think your sins are too much for God, read this.

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 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 20 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 amount of 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 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 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.

By Joshua Harris. Orginally published in New Attitude Magazine. Copyright New Attitude, 1995. You have permission to reprint this in any form. We only ask that you include the appropriate copyright byline and do not alter the content.

Posted on

10 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me When I Graduated High School

now

  1. Your best days are ahead. High school is a warm-up for the rest of your life. The biggest things in your life have not yet happened: College. A career. Marriage. Children. Buying a house. That’s what life is made of.
  2. Who you’re with matters as much as what you do. Doing the right thing with the wrong people will ultimately land you in the wrong place. You can change what you do, but you can’t change who you’re with.
  3. Air is thin on the mountaintops…don’t rush through the valleys. Suffering is inevitable. It’s also when you grow. Don’t avoid it–embrace it.
  4. What you do when you’re single is what you’ll do when you’re married. You won’t suddenly change when you walk down the aisle. The habits you make now, you’ll practice then. Be careful who you become.
  5. If you write down your goals, you’ll be more likely to accomplish them. We are all prone to drift so focus is necessary. If you don’t aim for anything…well, you’ll hit your target every time.
  6. Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither. (Ok, so I didn’t come up with that. My distant cousin C.S. Lewis did.) I spent four years of college aiming at earth. Heaven came into clear focus in graduate school and I’ve never been the same since.
  7. Attitude trumps aptitude almost every time. How you handle knowledge is almost as important as knowledge itself. Pride goes before a fall. (Proverbs 16:18)
  8. You’re never as good as everyone tells you when you win, and you’re never as bad as they say when you lose. (Lou Holtz) In other words, don’t believe your own press. God opposes the proud and gives grace to the humble. (1 Peter 5:5)
  9. Humility is not thinking less of yourself, it’s thinking of yourself less. I have no idea who said this, but it’s true. Humility is not self-deprecation; it is selfless living. There is a big difference.
  10. Jesus is everything. I know it sounds cliche, even trite, because so many people say it. But it’s true. Name one other person who, before you ever did anything good for him, was brutally beaten, crowned with thorns, and hung on a tree so you could have the life you’ve always wanted. Jesus is everything.