September 11, 2013
The Door
We have one back door that we seldom use, but it can serve
as an emergency exit if we ever have the need. The other day when Bill decided
to use the door as a short cut to the alley the family dog, Charlie, was hot on
his heels. Charlie, who didn’t even know the door existed, stopped dead in his
tracks when the door opened and the whole outside world greeted him. I had to
laugh. It was definitely one of those Wizard of Oz moments when the world of
black and white suddenly turns to color. Wouldn’t you just love to have a
Lord’s-eye-view of people when they open the door to Jesus? “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock.
If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him,
and he with me.” (Rev 3:20 NIV)
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1 comment:
Gail;
-----Good analogy. It sounds like Charlie is a happy, healthy dog. But we are all sick. Mankind caught a 99.9999999999% contagious virus. One alone did not catch it. He now knocks on doors.
-----His Father knocked on His door when He shared our temporal circumstances, and He was greeted by a sober, willing, “get ‘er done” face. With strength and courage to break through any fear or comfort, He performed every task to the very thought and feeling called of Him to do. That face answering the door was colored meek with a vibrant hue inside firm lines of health, ability, and engaging character.
-----The joy which lights up our faces answering His knock barely masks the illness we’ve caught. Although life floods through the door into our souls and lights us up from the inside out until we feel there’s not a care surviving this curative call, the lines of our faces are yet etched by bewildering forces. The strongest of us are yet weak. Our courage is defined by the context of how much we can bear. And though we effervesce the moment’s emotion, the fullness lacking of our understanding within it adds a certain blankness to our stare.
-----I suppose He sees near lifeless gazes of the all but dead, as well as resonating faces of the scarcely ill. But knowing Him, He’s not there for the expressions He can find. He’s brought chicken soup and noodles! He’s there to start a recovery diet of truth and love. And the table He spreads is fit only for the one who answered the door. Some will lay droopily against His side, able to just get His morsels to their mouths. This He cherishes. Others eat and laugh and celebrate, anxious to get to the work outside. But in all their faces He sees the sickness at the door lessen by the food on the table. For that is why He knocked.
Love you all,
Steve Corey
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