I look at this peculiar building before me.  It stands strong and well maintained, yet it seems to be out of place.  I don’t see anything beautiful about it yet it holds a kind of mesmerizing presence about it that draws me closer and so I walk up to the door and open it.  It is like the site one would see at a stock exchange market for its hustle and bustle all around.  Papers on the floor, and piled in every corner.  I see people like runners going to and fro sending messages of all kinds, to which each is meticulously noted and filed.  As I tour this building, I feel its energy full of excitement of all kinds.  Joy, worry, dread, happiness, sadness, panic, hope, and hopelessness are some of what I detect.  I quickly realized that this building is the place where wrongs are recorded in our souls.  This place is so full of intensity that I can barely handle it and so I begin to look for an exit out.  To my horror, I see there is no door out, even the door I entered, no longer is there!  Panic grips me as I realize I am stuck in this place of organized wrongs.  I am trapped by all the stored memories meticulously filed away– that I have kept!   This is a building, I have erected!  In the stress I am faced with, my eyes are frantically looking for a way out, I notice a piece of scrap paper on the floor, bend to retrieve it read the words, and am immediately brought to the place where I was slighted by someone I loved. The disappointment, betrayal, anger, and bitterness all flowed from this small piece of paper into my heart like it just happened.   I threw it down like it was a fire in my hands!  I turned away to leave that place and saw a shelf, full of files crammed full with no more room so they began falling on the floor in overflow.  I pulled a file out and began leafing through its contents.  When I read, I saw lists on the page.  With each listing, describing an incident to which I had incurred noteworthy enough to record.  Going down the list I felt the sting of each, as I recollected the moment when they each occurred.  Rows and rows of incidents. This file seemed to be one where I had placed a great deal of expectation upon people to make me happy while reviewing how I was met with disappointment.  A sharp realization came to me as I pondered these: I had put my hope and trust in these people and not the Lord.  All I have to show for it is this thick file and a wounded heart. My heart sank as I realized what it contained, and this brought me lower into a place of despair.  Where is the hope, I thought?  There is none here, only condemnation.  I slumped against the counter behind me, and when put my hand down I touched a book.  This book was leather bound and had a golden clasp closing it shut with a leather strand tightly tied around it.  It was clearly special and so I was intrigued to see why.  As I opened it, I felt a wave of emotions that took me to the floor.  Still clutching this book, I began to read it.  The words came alive and I felt everything it recorded.  This book was a portion of my life in which I had carefully taken account of wrongs done to me.  Though it was painful, I was drawn in as if it were a magnet.  As I put the book down I was left broken, in all the hurt it contained, only to see dozens more volumes of leather-bound books on the counter of the same kind!   At this point, I was overwhelmed with grief and undone..  Then I heard these words:  ‘Love keeps no record of wrongs’.   Even in the state I was in, I argued with this saying, but who will hold those who do me wrong accountable?  ‘Have I not already taken each of these records you have stored in your soul, upon Myself?  My blood has provided – forgiveness for all these.  Forgive, as I have forgiven, and leave this place.’  I gasped.  I knew this, yet it was like it was something I had never heard before!  It was strange, because though all these memories I had filed away, were records of hurt and pain I found them to be oddly comforting in an odd way.  They were evidence for me that helped me to make rules in my life regarding people and situations.  As I thought about this, another thought came to me, ‘there is a way that seems right to a man but its end is the way to death.’  It is true, that I was hurt and felt much pain by these occurrences in my life – but to continue to abide in them will only bring to me more pain and suffering and deny the Lord.    As I looked around in this building and saw all the records I immediately knew what my next step was to be.  I confessed my place of hoarding – in all these records I have stored in my soul – as sin before the Lord.  And as I did, His blood touched each paper, every book, and every file I recorded in, and they dissolved!  Even the building I was stuck in, was dissolved to nothing! This is a picture for us, which I believe we can all relate to some degree or another.  The power of the blood in Christ’s Cross – wash away all our sins but let us not stop there and apply His blood to the sins others have done against us. Holding such accounts only give place for the memory of them to live on in us and to have power over us. Love does not dishonor others, Love is not self-seeking, Love is not easily angered, Love keeps no record of wrongs. 1 Cor 13:5