Light In a Dark World

Darkness. Black nothingness. And a whole lot of it. I looked all around. I couldn't see a single thing. It was strange. Almost like I wasn't there or something. But yet I was. How or where I couldn't tell you. It almost seemed like I was just watching everything take place. I don't really know. Then suddenly I could see a bit. It was still just as dark as before, but I could see through the darkness somehow. I could see movement. Slowly I was seeing clearer and clearer. There, right there. I could see something. It looked like a person. Yeah, there was people all over. I looked around and saw that I could see everything. Like literally everything. I mean the whole world. And it was was pitch dark. Yet people were still living their lives like normal. They acted like it wasn't even dark. I was pondering on this, when I happened to see a man walking around with a candle. The strange thing is, it wasn't lit! I couldn't believe it! He was living his life normally. The only thing weird I noticed about him was that occasionally someone would point to his candle and say something to him. He didn't seem to have time for it. Before I could think about that very much, I saw another man holding a candle. It was lit. The light flickered in the darkness, brightly. Everywhere he went he was noticed. I looked closer. I could see people make their way towards the light. They hesitated and shrank back into the darkness as soon as the light from the candle fell on them. The man began to hand out candles to everyone he met. Most looked at it warily. Many, many people threw it down and ran away. They seemed to think "Why do I need this! I was just fine before!" and turned their back on the light, walking back into the darkness. The man then told the people that there was only one way to lite the candle, and then told them how. Some people began to get angry at the man, saying that he thought he was special for having the light. They could not see that they were stumbling around, as if blind all their life. Others of them were afraid. And then I saw one man step directly into the candlelight's beam and stand there. He asked a question. He then knelt down, as if to pray, and remained in that position for some time. After awhile I saw him move and looked hard. I saw that the man who's candle was lit was standing over the other man. Suddenly I saw that there was two lights. The other man's candle had been lit. He stood up, and said something, then walked away, light shining forth. Not because of light from himself. But from the candle. He had realized that he was blind without it, and needed it to see. I began to look around closely, and saw that here and there around the world, there were candles lit, and sometimes groups of then. I saw that many, many people held candles in their hands. Very few of them were lit. Then, I couldn't see anymore. It was just black. But I knew. I began to think hard about what I had seen. Suddenly I felt my mind whirling about me, spinning out of control. The image before me began to transform. White. White brightness. And a whole lot of it. Suddenly I realized I was looking at my ceiling. I looked around and saw I was in my room, and in my bed. I almost laughed. But the image of those people though, stumbling around in the dark was still there. And frankly, I hope it never goes away.

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This was not a real dream by the way. I made it up, as you probably guessed. Just something that's been on my mind lately! Justin is doing great, and he's growing, slowly but surely! Thanks for your continued prayers!

God Bless You All!

Kevin

Update...

Wow. Has it really been that long since I updated you all on Justin? Sigh. I'm so sorry guys, I've been just sooooo busy I haven't had time to do anything! Ok. To any of you who have emailed me and I haven't replied... well... I'm sorry about that too. Anyways...

Justin! He has been improving rapidly, way beyond what the doctors expected. The bleeding on his brain that they found, had stopped before birth and has practically dissolved into the surrounding tissue. The doctors don't think there is going to be any serious problems from it. He has been gaining weight rapidly and growing rapidly too! He is eating the maximum amount of breastmilk that they allow for his size and age. And on top of it all, they are saying that he will be coming home from the hospital next week! The doctors have been saying the whole time that he will NOT be coming home before my mom's due date, which was November 14. Well, forget that! All I can say is Praise God! For everything! Thank you all for your prayers!

Well I better get going, got some stuffs to do, especially since it's my birthday. Oh, did I forget to say that? oops! ;) Yep, 17. I've been thinking about what I would like to do in this year. This is what I came up with:

1. Get my driver's license! I NEED it, though my parents might disagree ;)

2. Finish school! Okay, I do NEED to finish school! :D

3. Have a better and closer relationship with my family members :D

4. Most important, to grow closer to Jesus Christ, maturing spiritually, and focusing on Him.

5. All the other stuff that fills in the 365.25 days in a year ;D

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God Bless you all! Press on towards Christ, and do not take your eyes off of Him!

Kevin

The Room

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.

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.

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Convicting? I think so.

Joshua Harris, author of I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Boy Meets Girl, dreamt this while in Puerto Rico on a Billy Graham crusade at the age of 19.