Recently I was educated by my fellow co-worker on this thing called the “meme”. In case you are blur like me, here's a definition. In the context of web logs / 'blogs / blogging and other kinds of personal web sites meme's some kind of list of questions that you saw somewhere else and you decided to answer the questions. Then someone else sees them and does them and so on and so on. I generally consider these to be actual questions and not some multiple choice quizzes that determine some result at the end (what color you are most like, what cartoon character are you, what 80s movie are you)...
And since I received 2 same “memes” from 2 different person, not to be unfriendly, here’s my “meme” entitled, 25 random things you don’t know about me:1) I played with Barbie dolls when I was young. (Thanks to my sisters)2) I have this hunchback problem since my secondary school days3) I don’t like to lose4) I always wished to be a gangster and experience what it is like to beat someone up5) I always hope to have tattoos, those tribal kind, especially on my ankles6) I get scared by scary movies7) I had a girlfriend before8) I come from a broken family9) I never regretted being a Christian10) I once regretted being in SYFC, the place where I am serving full time in now11) I used to score 90 – 100 marks for my Literature when I was secondary 1 and 212) I wanted to open a pub (clean one), where people can chill out and listen to the music that I like13) I was involved in ninjitsu before14) I started gambling when I was in Primary 5 (of cos I stopped since I became a Christian)15) I wish I was taller16) I scored 186 for my PSLE17) I used to steal from my father when I was young18) I love to play computer games19) I tear/cry easily20) I almost died in Taiwan during training once21) I don’t like it when people lie to me, especially when I know he/she is lying22) I want to have at least 2 kids, if God willing23) I am conscious about how others look at me24) I tried learning Japanese but gave up not long after starting25) I regretted doing my course in poly, though I still love Temasek Poly!But as I think about this “meme” more, I think the better way to phrase it should be “25 things I don’t mind you knowing about me”. Admit it. We all have a ‘dark’ side that we don’t really want people to know. Deep down, we are ugly, wretched and disgusting, no matter how well we may portray ourselves to be. Which reminded me of a dream that was told by Joshua Harris, entitled "The Room". It's a long one, but it's worth the read."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."
Which is why it is so amazing that God would choose to give me, a wretched person, this gift of eternal, which I totally, totally don’t deserve. Now do you have it too?
