Diaries on the Shelf

Sitting around this afternoon contemplating the vestiges of life that were long ago buried in history.  Just sipping a cup of coffee.  Watching the neighbors coming and going from the complex that I live in.  Most of my neighbors are college students that are just starting on their life’s journey.  I wonder if they have families that think of them while they are away from home.  It seems as if lately no one needed me anymore.  The phone is silent and the only thing the postman brings me are the monthly bills.  My friends are long gone or have moved on.

Watching the neighbors go to and fro, I started thinking, how do I want people to remember me?  So I thought I would write a book about my life.  The times when I thought that people looked up to me and when I was somebody.  On my bookshelf were dozens of diaries that I had written over the years.  So I thought, there must be some good material in them to be able to constructed a novel about my life.   I was gazing at all the journals, there were at least 20 or better.

While I was looking at the journals there was a knock on the door.  I answered the door and there standing before me was a gentleman standing with the biggest smile on his face.  I must say it was kind of disarming.  He was carrying a large book in his right arm.  I ask him if he was selling encyclopedias?  He smiled and told me he was not selling anything.  The Social services had sent him out to check on my welfare and asked if he could come in.  I asked him to produce an identification card, which he did.  He was from the Social welfare agency.  It seemed legit so I invited him in and pointed to the sofa to take a seat.  I took a seat in my easy chair.

He asked me how I was doing, so I told him I was feeling a little down lately because no one seemed to care about me anymore.  I pointed to my journals on the bookcase and explained they chronicled my whole life and I was thinking about writing my life’s story.

He asked me what kind of stories. I told him about the time I gave Roger a brand new bike because he did not have one, Roger was my best friend.  He was so happy cause his parents were poor.  He thanked me profusely, which made me feel good.

He just looked at me smiling and did not say anything.  So I continued.

Then there was the time when my brothers and I would bring flowers for every occasion to our mom.  She always liked that and always gave us big hugs, that was a good thing too.

There was the time when my older brother got his first car.  It was a 55 Ford and it would guzzle gas.  So we used to siphon gas from my Dad’s state car.  He used to sit up at nights looking out the windows to see if he could catch the thief.  Me and my brothers would sit up with him sometimes and watch for the thief also.  Never did catch the thief but it gave us a good laugh.

The gentlemen who was still smiling, looked at me and told me that the bikes were stolen and that we had taken the flowers from the cemetery to give to our mom.  You and your brothers were thieves by taking gas from a state car not to mention hurting your Dad.  You have been a thief all your life. I looked at him defensively and asked, how do you know these things?  I thought that perhaps he knew one of my brothers?   He told me that he that he had known me since I was in my mother’s womb.

Curiosity got the best of me so I asked, “Who are You?”

This kind gentleman said to me, I AM who My Father says I AM.  He then looked at me and opened the big book He was holding.  This is the book of Good and Evil and someday you are going to stand before your Father and He is going to open it.  Sure you did good things in the name of Christ but you stole his name.  If you continue in your sins the Father will expel you for eternity.

Tears started to flow down my cheeks.  What can I do?  I have not done anything worthwhile my entire life.  I have been so alone.  What am I supposed to do, it’s too late to start over.

The gentlemen got up and walked over to me and held my hands.  He said all you have to do is believe and all your diaries are washed away by the blood of Jesus.  All you have to do is believe.

Thru tear stained eyes I said to him, I believe and will try to become better the rest of my life.  Will the Father forgive me?  The Father remembers no more.

The gentlemen got up and said it was time for him to go.  He told me He had another appointment to go to.  I showed Him to the door and closed it.  I had another question to ask Him, would I see Him again, so I opened the door and to my surprise He was gone,  I looked up and down the street but He was gone.

I went back to my easy chair and sat down a minute trying to digest what had just happened.  I knew one thing, I was going to throw all my diaries on the shelf away.  I knew I would never be alone again.

Who knows maybe you will see that gentlemen someday.  What will you say?

Got you own diaries on the shelf.  Take the hand of faith and wash everything in the blood of Christ.  See you someday in the throne room of our Father.