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"In that place between wakefulness and dreams..."
What is "The Room"? Well, there's a good chance it's been emailed to you at one time or another in one of those forwarded emails that clog your in-box. But unlike many of the stories making their rounds on the internet this is one that grabs your attention and won't let go. The dream, by author Joshua Harris, is chilling.
What if there were a room of files that cataloged your every thought and action? Could you bear to review them?
"The Room", originally published in New Attitude magazine in 1995, and then reprinted in Harris's book I Kissed Dating Goodbye in 1997, touches on the universal themes of guilt and redemption. How does a man find forgiveness for the wrongs he's committed or for the good he's left undone? Is our past something we can leave behind or forget? How can any of us know true forgiveness from a God who is holy and just?
In this section of joshharris.com we've gathered interesting background information about how "The Room" was written and the effect it has had since its initial publication. We also address the controversary surrounding the sad confusion over its authorship. What will become apparent as you read is that the issue of central importance in the story of "The Room" is not it's author or its popularity, but the powerful message it communicates. "The Room" points to our need for a Savior who can rescue us from the punishment our sins deserve. Jesus Christ is that Savior. And "The Room" is a story that helps explain what he accomplished when he died on the cross for the sins of the world.
We hope that reading "The Room" will point you to the Savior who died for you.
"The Room" by Joshua Harris
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 couldnt 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 Ive Yelled at My Brothers. Others I couldnt 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 hadnt 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 didnt 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 couldnt 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 didnt 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 didnt 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 shouldnt 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 dont think Ill 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.
Submitted by Richard
What is "The Room"? Well, there's a good chance it's been emailed to you at one time or another in one of those forwarded emails that clog your in-box. But unlike many of the stories making their rounds on the internet this is one that grabs your attention and won't let go. The dream, by author Joshua Harris, is chilling.
What if there were a room of files that cataloged your every thought and action? Could you bear to review them?
"The Room", originally published in New Attitude magazine in 1995, and then reprinted in Harris's book I Kissed Dating Goodbye in 1997, touches on the universal themes of guilt and redemption. How does a man find forgiveness for the wrongs he's committed or for the good he's left undone? Is our past something we can leave behind or forget? How can any of us know true forgiveness from a God who is holy and just?
In this section of joshharris.com we've gathered interesting background information about how "The Room" was written and the effect it has had since its initial publication. We also address the controversary surrounding the sad confusion over its authorship. What will become apparent as you read is that the issue of central importance in the story of "The Room" is not it's author or its popularity, but the powerful message it communicates. "The Room" points to our need for a Savior who can rescue us from the punishment our sins deserve. Jesus Christ is that Savior. And "The Room" is a story that helps explain what he accomplished when he died on the cross for the sins of the world.
We hope that reading "The Room" will point you to the Savior who died for you.
Did Josh Really Write It?
Within months of writing "The Room" Josh Harris had people questioning whether he was truly the author. "It wasn't long after we'd printed it in New Attitude magazine that I started getting 'The Room' emailed to me with 'Author unknown' printed at the bottom," Josh recalls.
The response to the article was amazing. People shared it in their churches, copied it and gave it to friends. It was forwarded via email to thousands. Brio magazine as well as Choral Ridge Ministries used the article by the "unknown" author before they were alerted that Josh had written it.
"I have to admit that it really tested my heart," Josh says. "Part of me wanted to go on a campaign to let everyone know that I was the true author. I'd finally written something really good and I wasn't being given credit for it." Instead, Josh realized God wanted him swallow his pride let the dream be used however God wanted.
"I felt God was telling me that 'The Room' was about Him and His grace and I was to step aside and not be concerned with having my name on it. The night I had the dream and wrote the article I knew it was something very special. I think I even told people I felt like God had written it and had me type it. But then when I wasn't getting credit I was upset! God was showing that in my heart I wasn't passionate about his name being glorified but having my name glorified. It was an important lesson."
Two years later Joshua included "The Room" in his book in 1997 book, I Kissed Dating Goodbye. Unfortunately, this began to raise questions among people who had read the article on the internet with "author unknown" or in some cases another person credited. "That was when I began telling people when they asked that I had written it," Josh says. "I didn't mind people thinking someone else had written it, but I was very concerned if anyone thought I would lie about having written it. I felt that could be a real distraction from people receiving its message in the book."
The most recent and widespread story about the authorship of "The Room" is also the most tragic. It claims that a young man named Brian Moore wrote "The Room" in 1997 a short time before he died in a car accident.
It's rare that a week will go by when people won't email us at joshharris.com and ask about the Brian story. We wish we could say that the whole story is an "e-rumor", but sadly part of it is true. Though Brian Moore didn't write "The Room" he really did die in a car accident at the age of 17. We believe this is an honest mistake by the family of Brian Moore that has taken on a life of its own on the internet. We extend our regrets to the Moore family at the loss of their son. And we hope that the confusion over the authorship of "The Room" won't distract people from it's message of hope and salvation through Jesus Christ
Within months of writing "The Room" Josh Harris had people questioning whether he was truly the author. "It wasn't long after we'd printed it in New Attitude magazine that I started getting 'The Room' emailed to me with 'Author unknown' printed at the bottom," Josh recalls.
The response to the article was amazing. People shared it in their churches, copied it and gave it to friends. It was forwarded via email to thousands. Brio magazine as well as Choral Ridge Ministries used the article by the "unknown" author before they were alerted that Josh had written it.
"I have to admit that it really tested my heart," Josh says. "Part of me wanted to go on a campaign to let everyone know that I was the true author. I'd finally written something really good and I wasn't being given credit for it." Instead, Josh realized God wanted him swallow his pride let the dream be used however God wanted.
"I felt God was telling me that 'The Room' was about Him and His grace and I was to step aside and not be concerned with having my name on it. The night I had the dream and wrote the article I knew it was something very special. I think I even told people I felt like God had written it and had me type it. But then when I wasn't getting credit I was upset! God was showing that in my heart I wasn't passionate about his name being glorified but having my name glorified. It was an important lesson."
Two years later Joshua included "The Room" in his book in 1997 book, I Kissed Dating Goodbye. Unfortunately, this began to raise questions among people who had read the article on the internet with "author unknown" or in some cases another person credited. "That was when I began telling people when they asked that I had written it," Josh says. "I didn't mind people thinking someone else had written it, but I was very concerned if anyone thought I would lie about having written it. I felt that could be a real distraction from people receiving its message in the book."
The most recent and widespread story about the authorship of "The Room" is also the most tragic. It claims that a young man named Brian Moore wrote "The Room" in 1997 a short time before he died in a car accident.
It's rare that a week will go by when people won't email us at joshharris.com and ask about the Brian story. We wish we could say that the whole story is an "e-rumor", but sadly part of it is true. Though Brian Moore didn't write "The Room" he really did die in a car accident at the age of 17. We believe this is an honest mistake by the family of Brian Moore that has taken on a life of its own on the internet. We extend our regrets to the Moore family at the loss of their son. And we hope that the confusion over the authorship of "The Room" won't distract people from it's message of hope and salvation through Jesus Christ
"The Room" by Joshua Harris
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 couldnt 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 Ive Yelled at My Brothers. Others I couldnt 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 hadnt 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 didnt 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 couldnt 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 didnt 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 didnt 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 shouldnt 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 dont think Ill 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.
Submitted by Richard
