tears
began to fall uncontrollably. I began to sob aloud. 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 one must ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.
But then I pushed the tears away, 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, oh, 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 and every card.
"No!" I shouted, rushing to Him. All I could to say was, "No, no,"as I pulled the card from Him. His name was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards again.
There they were, all written with the name of Jesus covering mine with blood so rich, so dark, so alive. I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it all 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 the door. There were still cards to be written.
