For better is one day in Your courts than a thousand elsewhere. I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

Fellow doorkeepers: Would you rather do something else? Be the vice president? Now that would be important, wouldn’t it? Too much? Maybe you’d rather move “up” by smaller degrees – to the mailroom, for instance. Let me remind you that “important” is simply in the eye of the beholder. It has to do with what is needed at the moment. So don’t be so hasty. Remember, remember something important: The doorkeeper carries the keys. He unlocks and locks the doors!

And I will give to you the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.

Can you think of anything just about now that needs shutting out or opening up? I thought so. It’s time to unhitch those keys from your beltloop and get busy!

Psalm 84:10; Matthew 16:19

I signed up for a conference for church leaders to be held April 13 and 14, a time of year when gentle rains massage the ground and new buds break forth from winter’s sleep. The scent of warm earth, sweet lilacs, and new grass lend a kind of peace as if to say, “Sure, it was bone-chilling cold just awhile ago. Sure, you trudged through snow up to your knees and broke your snow shovel from sheer weight. But no fear, spring is here! Lay your heavy flannel burdens down. Life is new again. (And for pete’s sake stash away the pile of Sorel boots before we all trip over them and break our collective necks.)” The conference was aptly named Flourish, and attendees and leaders looked forward to a time of talking about ways to help our churches not only survive, but, yes, flourish. Our speakers were flying in from out east and attendees were coming from all parts of the state.

As the conference drew near, some weather forecasts suggested the possibility of snow which, considering a winter with enough snow to keep us all satisfied for a decade or more, wasn’t out of the question. By the time the weekend had rolled around, meteorologists were solemnly predicting snow and a lot of it, but conference organizers remained firm. The conference would not be cancelled.

It was inspiring, really. If they could stand immovable, winter-like winds whipping their hair every which way and snow pelting their chapped faces, then so could I. I pulled my winter coat from the back of the closet where I had bid it farewell a couple of weeks before, filled up the gas tank, and attended a great conference. I had to drive a mere thirty minutes there (piece of cake) and thirty minutes back. Then the snow fell.

Let me tell you about thirty minutes. Thirty minutes on clear roads is thirty minutes. Thirty minutes in whiteout conditions is a year and a half. As my car plowed home through streets similar to the landscape around them – in other words unplowed and deep – I strained to see where the edge of the road might be, where any possible medians might be, and, yes, where the road, itself, might be. I congratulated myself as I made it to the highway without driving into a ditch unawares until it was too late. Then something occurred to me. I was on the highway with more cars where accidents happen in greater numbers at greater speeds.

I made up my mind. No one was going to rush me. I drove down the center lane averaging 30 mph. Except for a few obnoxious trucks, everyone else, anxious to avoid joining the multitudes in the ditch, seemed content to do the same. It’s possible we were all humming the same song: Cars to the left of me, Pick-ups to the right, Here I am, Stuck in the middle with you . . .[1] (my apologies to Stuck in the Middle With You, Stealers Wheels). And then I exited from the highway onto the Interstate. Good times.

It was reminiscent of another time when my husband and I drove south to Orange City, Iowa with our daughter. We’d gotten an early start since we had an appointment for a tour; a talk about cost and financing from someone with a calm, silky smooth voice; and everything else they offer on college visits. We’d driven about three and a half hours when the fog descended. I’ve never seen anything like it. We drove as though in a dream and heaven help anything or anyone in front of us. On the return trip home, we all agreed that it was interesting to see whole towns we’d passed without knowing they were there. Hats off to those of you who drive mountain roads with sheer drops from non-existent shoulders. WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!

Some people are very good at noticing details. They not only notice features of someone’s appearance, but what he’s wearing and how he walks. Other people are good at noticing background: the sights and sounds others might miss. Still others notice more of what a person says, how he says it, and maybe even what’s left unsaid. We think we know the people we greet and even the people we’ve known for years, but there is always – let me repeat – there is always something we don’t see. Even if that person is a talker. Even if we see him every day. Even if, oh yes, even if he is us.

Think of everything going on in our world and then portion little personalized pieces of it out to each individual. Understand that two people can encounter the very same thing and walk away with very different perceptions of it. Take into account personalities, temperaments, and childhood backgrounds, and soon you see that it is impossible to see people as clearly as we might think we do.

Confucius said, Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. Knowing there’s all kinds of trouble we don’t see, it’s good to remember that there’s all kinds of good we don’t see, as well. Perhaps it’s even more important to remember that. We have a couple at our church who are both in wheelchairs. They are more active than some of the rest of us who have no trouble walking. They go places. They do things. They are the friendliest people! And their love for each other is wonderful. She has trouble with her hands, so he helps her with a straw when she’s thirsty, for instance. If you put a picture of them next to a picture of a perfect bride and groom I’ll tell you right now who’s love is more beautiful.

Do you know who I don’t want to stand beside at judgment because the comparison would be so absolutely breathtakingly pitiful? Besides Moses, I mean. Abraham. Are you ready to leave a comfortable situation; everything and everyone familiar; and set out on a trip to finish your dad’s idea of moving to Canaan. That might be something you’d do, right? Aside from the dangers on the way. Oh, and believing a promise that looks totally insane since it’s scientifically impossible. And then there’s the whole being willing to sacrifice your child, believing God will provide some, oh, something. Thinking to yourself, “This is one big ask, but here goes – ah. Last minute reprieve!” His favorite way to do things. I’m telling you, that’s the kind of don’t know where this is going, but trust the Leader faith we rarely see. (It is at this point I’d like to wish you a Happy New Year!)

Hebrews 11:8 reminds us that By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. Abraham is a solid example of following God’s direction even though he couldn’t see it, didn’t understand it even though he tried, and at some point knew he’d never see it as long as he lived.

No, we don’t see everything that’s happening in someone’s life nor in their thinking. We don’t see the seemingly innocuous incidents nor the things that seem insurmountable to them. We don’t understand that the clerk who is short with us is going through a divorce or the drummer in the worship band is worried about making rent. We don’t see past a smile to the exhaustion or past a nod to crisis of character. We’ve had plenty examples of late in people in positions of leadership who surely knew better and fell off the proverbial cliff anyway. No, there’s plenty, believe you me, that we don’t see. There are times we might as well be in a record-breaking blizzard or heavy fog for all we see. And do you know what else we don’t see? We don’t see the hand of God quietly, but surely working in every life that’s even slightly open to His touch.

[1] Stuck In The Middle With You; Composers: Gerald Rafferty, Joe Egan C. MBG Rights Management US, LLC

George Washington is sometimes referred to as the father of our country. Though he was born into a family just a step below nobility and could have lived an easy life, he worked first as a surveyor, was appointed as a military ambassador at the age of 21, and learned as he rose through the ranks. He took a stand against what had become tyrannical British governmental rule; suffered a brutal and desperate winter at Valley Forge; endured much hardship as he led troops across the Delaware, pulling off a surprise attack and victory at Trenton; and eventually became the first president of the United States of America. It was a post he did not seek nor  want. He wasn’t seeking fame. He was just doing what he considered to be his duty. He put his life at risk for the sake of opening the door of freedom to a new nation. If we end up standing next to G.W. at judgment, how do we compare to that kind of courage?

We have a responsibility to welcome. We also have a responsibility to warn.

When I thought a loved one was in danger, I yelled at the top of my lungs. I didn’t want him to die. I knew I was too weak to help, but at least I could call his name to give him an idea of where safety was despite the dark.

The door was the one thing between Pat and me and the unknown. We were glad it was there, but alarmed that people we loved were on the other side. Whether we needed to protect them or they needed to protect us wasn’t something to which we gave much consideration. We just knew separation was scary.

Ezekiel 3:18-21 tells us the following: When I say to a wicked person, ‘You will surely die,’ and you do not warn them or speak out to dissuade them from their evil ways in order to save their life, that wicked person will die for their sin, and I will hold you accountable for their blood. But if you do warn the wicked person and they do not turn from their wickedness or from their evil ways, they will die for their sin; but you will have saved yourself. “Again, when a righteous person turns from their righteousness and does evil, and I put a stumbling block before them, they will die. Since you did not warn them, they will die for their sin. The righteous things that person did will not be remembered, and I will hold you accountable for their blood. But if you do warn the righteous person not to sin and they do not sin, they will surely live because they took warning, and you will have saved yourself.”

Now we all agree that standing at the church door and screaming frantically to passersby to come in before it’s too late is not an effective way to influence others in heaven’s direction except for several of a select few who are probably on certain types of medication. However, we need to have that passionate of a drive about the gospel. There are folks who are doing a pretty impressive 5k Open Water Swim to the lake of fire. Is there some way we can throw them a life jacket without knocking them under? I don’t have any fool-proof answers, and there are people with more knowledge than I have who have written plenty of books and given enough seminars on the subject to provide us all with some ideas. In fact, this is where Christians find themselves conflicted. What is the best way to extend Christ’s invitation? Do we keep it happy and easy and fun? Do we just put it out there, hell fire and all? Part of our preferences come from our own personality, some stem from cultural norms, and, if we’re willing to admit it, some is due to our belief about how long we have until the end. I tend to be one way one day and another the next. What about you?

What I do know is that we need to be in emergency mode about now. Time is short. Go ahead. Be friendly. Invite your un-churched neighbor to do un-churchy stuff. Be approachable. All good. But one of those times, that neighbor needs to hear the truth about Jesus, and they need to hear it before it’s too late. They need to receive information about God’s love, but also about His expectations. Standing at the door, making friends, and smiling at them as they keep swimming the hot water 5k isn’t exactly neighborly. We need to stand at the door and give them an idea where safety is despite the dark. We need to stand at the door and tell the truth (the whole truth and nothing but the truth). Our job as a door keeper is to hold the door open! Don’t make it any harder than necessary to get in. And . . . invite them back for happy hour!

Images: Pexels.com

A doorkeeper has different jobs depending on what side of the door he’s standing. While he welcomes small and great alike, he has a duty to also monitor potential danger and takes steps to protect.

There’s a little cabin up in northern Minnesota nestled among trees and sitting on the edge of a lake that is a second home to me. As years have passed and families of other cabin owners have expanded their cabins, our little cabin has, for the most part, remained the same. It’s a rectangle, a sketch my dad drew when we were all young. The windows are right where he drew squares on the rectangle and the door at the back of the cabin is on one side. Up until not too long ago there was a screen door, too; the kind made up of mostly screen, that closed with a satisfying slam if you didn’t shut it yourself, and with a hook for a lock.

It was to this cabin I was allowed to bring a friend one week when we were in high school. My friend, Pat, was the kind of friend you could depend on to be in the moment with you. She was full of energy and fun.

One night we were alone in the cabin. I don’t know where anyone in my family was. I do know they were far enough away to be inaccessible. It didn’t matter. We were having a grand time. But the evening was wearing on, and the cabin seemed kind of quiet. When night falls up there among the uninhabited pines it gets dark; the so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face kind of dark.

We opened the door and peered into blackness. We could see nothing. Then we noticed something unusual. It was some sort of splotch, some mark, some stain right on the screen. Being the reasonable and imaginative teenage girls we were (no doubt Pat having the better part of reason and I having the better part of imagination), we decided that my brother had been walking to the cabin and been mauled by a bear. The stain must be his blood spattered during the awful encounter! I kid you not. It made perfect, if somewhat alarming, sense to us. After some panicked conversation, I yelled his name through the screen. A short moment, then the sound of feet running down the long driveway, then the blessed sound of his out-of-breath voice. Seeing his un-mauled, annoyed self in front of us we rather sheepishly confessed our concern. He was not amused. No. No, it never occurred to us there was rust on the screen. Why would it when there were so many other possibilities?

Some threats are imagined. But – oh yes – some are very real.

If you have the type of personality that is pretty laid back and are someone who is bothered by very little, I have one question. What is it like, dude? Make that two questions. Has any of that changed during these action-packed last days? (Or the un-edited equivalent, “Are you nuts?!”) We have a plethora of information bouncing around the world of which the truth is uncertain. We have Christians imprisoned and beheaded and set on fire. Right here in the United States, a nation that prides itself on freedom, some who must sit through senate hearings in order to be confirmed for a job to which they were appointed by the president are asked about their Christian beliefs as though such beliefs will prevent them from carrying out their job in a manner fair to others. We have schools, colleges, and universities that have opened their hallowed halls to indoctrination mixed in with their teaching. We have cyber attacks. We have souls marching in the streets for justice while destroying property and attacking people. And we even have some of our churches sitting back and approving. Doorkeeper, do not let your church be guilty of that.

As a doorkeeper you welcome. But, when necessary, you also warn.

to be continued . . .

****************************************************************************************************

Images: Pexels.com

It doesn’t matter what gifts you believe you have or don’t have, because you, my friend, are a doorkeeper just now. A doorkeeper doesn’t need a special gift of greeting. Even a shy person can find it in his or her heart to say hello and smile.

We have the most wonderful thing in the world! It’s the Lord Jesus Christ and the promise of salvation for the life after this one. Hear me now. The life after this one is real. There are people outside the church doors who don’t know that. Whatever it is they think or have been taught, life after death remains a mystery. Maybe it exists, they might think, maybe it doesn’t. If heaven exists, they might think, everyone can go; a good God wouldn’t keep people out, would He? People think all sorts of things. Perhaps you’ve thought some of those very things yourself. There are so many incorrect assumptions flying around out there, so much Biblical illiteracy, so much untruth, a Bible-believing church is a great place to rectify at least some of it. So there is something much more important than wanting our church to grow or having people think of us as friendly or getting a write-up in the local paper. Eternity is at stake. A doorkeeper might not be a preacher, but a doorkeeper has what a preacher does not: First access!

We’re the ones who get to give someone who approaches the door a smile and maybe a handshake. We’re the first ones privy to the astounding news available to someone who might be exposed to it for the first time. We are the ones who, with grateful hearts, get to beam our love to both new and seasoned attendees! There is no better place they could have chosen to come to! We’re the ones who get to send up silent prayers for each one stepping over the threshold. Can’t you see our whole Doorkeeper 101 class nodding a friendly nod and blinking invisible love, joy, and peace darts from our place at the door?

And the host at the Blue Fox? He reinforced one more thing. He invited us back for . . . wait for it . . . Happy Hour.

to be continued . . .

****************************************************************************************************

Image: Pexels.com

Will I be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord in heaven? That’s one of those wait and see questions. I do know that these days I am a doorkeeper in the – uh – Lord’s house.

Though scripture teaches us to test our own work, not our neighbor’s [1], humility can be nurtured by observing ourselves next to those better than we are. So in this blog series we will pause to look at someone who outpaces us in their efforts to work with what God has given them. As we think about being a doorkeeper, it’s a good exercise for us to understand that such an assignment – door keeping – might very well, indeed, be our just dessert. Anything beyond it is icing.

If I’m stuck at the door, I’d rather do a decent job of it than fall flat on my face. Hence, you are now reading Doorkeeper 101. Welcome to the class that was the last choice of every student taking it. One motto among many we will use here is Dignify and glorify common labor. It is at the bottom of life that we must begin, not at the top.[2] The quiet sound you hear is me sighing. I know I’m not the only one. We might as well get started.

Welcome to the class that was the last choice of every student taking it.

I homeschooled my kids during some of their elementary school years and on Wednesdays we fit piano lessons with my mother, who was a piano teacher, into the schedule. It was a required subject. I called it lunch and lessons with Grandma because my parents would always want to go out to eat before or after piano lessons. One day I got a call to meet them at a place called the Blue Fox. I knew of it since it was only a few miles from our house. Now you have to know something about my parents. They liked hole-in-the-wall cafes. If there was one on the road they traveled, they would find it, and not only find it, but make friends with the people who frequented it. They were culinary explorers, but not the kind who could describe the nuances of certain dishes. Rather, they tended to find places someone else wouldn’t have glanced at twice. I suggested to them that the Blue Fox wasn’t what they thought it was. They ignored me.

Like many parents, I worked very hard to raise my children to steer clear of what held potential for harm and to stay on the straight path. That included letting them know that I had seen more bad than good come from alcoholic beverages. I was raised in a dry family and was raising my family the same way. You can probably see where I’m going with this. Yes, the Blue Fox was a bar.

To be fair, it was a bar and grill, but in my assessment it was more bar than grill, and since I didn’t even take my kids to Chili’s in the interest of steering them in the right direction, it’s unlikely – make that highly unlikely – make that nigh unto impossible – I would ever take them to the Blue Fox. But here we were: my parents finding a new restaurant with an entertaining name, and me honoring my parents and biting my tongue. We walked in and were greeted by one of the most agreeable fellows I have ever met. He did everything to make sure we were comfortable. Well, aside from the very high stools. I must admit I was impressed that my mother made it up on hers and hoped very hard she’d be able to get down without falling when the time came. It took until after we had ordered for my mother to admit what type of establishment we were dining at. After a good laugh, she remarked, and we had to agree, that the church should be as friendly.

The host at the Blue Fox was on the mark. Whatever his first impression of us, he made us feel like he wanted us to come back and see him every day. We almost began to believe their burgers were the best and their menu was second to none. And if our host didn’t believe it, he had some great acting skills.

A doorkeeper doesn’t pick and choose who to welcome. What if the person who walks up to the door doesn’t look like the other folks who walk through that door every day? What if the person gives off some unpleasant odor? Has dirty fingernails or, conversely, looks like they get a weekly mani-pedi? What if the person seems snobbish or overdressed compared with everyone else? What if they speak a different language? What if they are loud and bawdy? What if they seem very much like someone who brought distress in the doorkeeper’s past? What if they are every kind of unlikeable? What if their home is under a bridge? What if they are famous? Or rich? Or both? What if they take a long time to come through the door? Fortunately, it’s not the doorkeeper’s job to figure everything out. It is the doorkeeper’s job to simply open the door.

to be continued . . .

****************************************************************************************************

[1] Galations 4:6

[2] Quote: Booker T. Washington

Class Motto: Dignify and glorify common labor. It is at the bottom of life that we must begin, not at the top.; Image: Pexels.com

Sometimes I think we go through phrases like a flavor of the month. It’s popular now to tell people “Just be you”, “You do you” or whatever is trendy for the time being. Those phrases are used to reassure people that they don’t need to be like someone else. They’re their own person. I agree, but perhaps the reason we all compare ourselves with others from time to time is that it’s one way of seeing ourselves more clearly.

Often we don’t take a sharp picture, though. We skew it in favor or against ourselves; hence, the trendy phrases. But the better part of us yearns for a sharper focus.

And yet, measuring ourselves next to our contemporaries has the potential of blurring things more than clarifying them. A real comparison can’t be made simply by contrasting ourselves with those around us because we might be living in a time when there are a lot of bad folks making it easy for us to look pretty good. It makes more sense and will encourage us to step up our game to consider people throughout history, and only then take a look to see how we stack up. In our efforts at clarity, we do well to examine the lives of people better than we, ourselves, are. As we look at those people, we can acknowledge they had their weaknesses, their sins, their times of veering off track. We also must acknowledge that they learned from those times. Pointing at someone who seems worse does us no good and shows weak character we’d do well to curb, besides. Ready to take a peek? I’m warning you, it’s not pretty. These days nearly all of us look pretty pitiful and surprisingly inadequate.

When we evaluate what possible kind of reward we will be given, I don’t know about you, but I feel like the only place I should be is at the back of the line. We get to determine how we live our own lives. Do we live in such a way that someone years from now will look at our lives and be impressed or simply unmoved?

If any of us has a choice between having the lowliest job in heaven or “dwelling in the tents of the wicked”, I know which one I choose.

The thing is, I never wanted to be that person. You want someone to do all the things required to keep something running like a well-oiled machine? You need someone to run errands for someone else? Be part of the cookie brigade? Do janitorial work? Sit quietly with someone? Excuse me while I find their phone number for you.

Yet these days that’s exactly where I find myself. I pick up coffee and a breakfast sandwich for someone who can’t do it herself. I shovel a walk. I clean. I sit for four hours every week while college kids come in to the church for quiet study space and free coffee and snacks. I bake. I talk to strangers. To my dismay, I find that I am a doorkeeper.

Sources: Rev. 22:12; see also I Corinthians 3:13-15, I Cor. 4:5, II Cor. 5:9-10; Images: Pexels.com

I don’t know if you were paying close attention to some of the news when talk began about blood moons, the sign of the woman and the dragon in stars, the 70th anniversary of the reestablishment of Israel, and those kind of things. I was. I eat that stuff up. Sure, “no man knows the day nor the hour”, but we can watch for signs of Jesus’ second coming, and I do.

We’re all supposed to be living the kind of life that is ready for Jesus’ return any time, but – I don’t know – and maybe it says something terrible about me, but living like you have years ahead of you and living like tomorrow won’t be there are two different things. If you have no tomorrow, you make a will today and you preach to everyone who will listen. If you have years ahead of you, you might put the will off (I’m not saying you should. I’m saying you might.) and take a gentler approach to the man on the street.

Of course, the more signs appear, the more imminent everything seems, or maybe I should say is. But an end is coming sometime, and as it does, the more I just want to be there. I don’t care if I have a mansion or a little one room cabin. In fact, I’d rather be a doorkeeper than not there!

As Christians sometimes we get pretty comfortable in the thought that Jesus has saved us from the just result of our sins.[1] Yes, He is our righteousness. Yes, He is our home. However, his sacrifice doesn’t add to our own good works or lack of them when we wait to see what reward we’re given. As much as our current culture twists the thought of judging in all sorts of directions to reach a distorted goal, the Bible tells us we, who have accepted Christ as our Savior, will still be judged, not to decide our eternal destiny, but to examine our lives in order to determine gradation of reward. Is that news to you? We don’t talk about that much anymore because we’re concerned people will think what they do, their works, will get them into heaven. They don’t. Jesus does. But seriously, you can’t believe that God doesn’t care a whit about what we’ve done with our time here on earth. He cares very much.[2] God’s mercy doesn’t erase our responsibility.

That responsibility is a gift. Even if you cannot identify what we often call a “gift” in yourself, you must understand that gifts come in the form of both talents and opportunities. Someone might have a talent you don’t have. You might have an opportunity they don’t have. And when those gifts, in whatever form they take, whether talent or opportunity or something else altogether, are in our lives, they present to us the excitement of challenge, the learning that comes from failure, and the satisfaction of success. They open doors to working with people and getting to know them in new ways. They stretch us and help us to grow. They encourage us to become better, maybe even a little more like Jesus. Oh yes. “Works” has become a four-letter word these days, but understood rightly, it is actually a five-letter word. That word is bless. (Where’s a smiley face emoticon when you need one?) Understood rightly, works shouldn’t be a burden. They should be a blessing. So let’s look a little closer. If you find yourself forgetting about the main thing – God’s love – just recall that His love covers not only a multitude of sins, but your inadequacy, as well.

There will be no selfie sticks at the judgment seat of God. No one will be able to change the lighting or background. Photoshop will be prohibited. There will be no edits or revisions. There will be no fudging the facts or little white lies or . . . statistics. Excuses – all of them – will be thrown in a receptacle where they dissolve on contact. We will be alarmed to note the clothes we were so proud of now look like rags. We won’t have that impressive resume nor any title any longer. Our victim status will be revoked. Everything we were so proud of will seem very small. In fact, all externals will be stripped away, leaving only the real person. When we’re standing in that multitude not so long from now, how will we measure up?

to be continued . . .

**************************************************************************************************

[1] Jesus stands ready to stand with us before the judgment seat of God. He’s the one whose blood covers our sins. Acts 2:38; Titus 3:5-6

[2] Behold, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what he has done.

Images: httpcommons.wikimedia.orgwikiFileCarina-Nebula.jpg.;  thephotographyblography.blogspot.png; gift-publicdomainpictures.net

When my family travels, we usually stop at the kind of hotels  that don’t have a doorman. We don’t pull up and get out of our shiny black Aston Martin while the valet parks our car. We’re not offered an umbrella if it’s raining nor do we get a nod from someone in a uniform who holds the door for us. No, we just walk in, walk up to the desk, give the clerk our credit card, get the room keys, and walk away. No fancy service for us! You might say we’re do-it-yourself-ers when it comes to travel.

For people who, on their honeymoon, stopped at the grocery store for meal supplies, this makes perfect sense. We started out traveling on the cheap and haven’t really changed that part of our identity in thirty years of marriage. Part of me wonders what it would be like to travel differently, though; to jet somewhere and eat fancy food while I’m up in the air; to have a well-used passport; and to stay at the kind of hotels that have someone at the door.

Someone at the door. We don’t know their name, and embarrassingly enough, we probably don’t care that we don’t know. They’re at their station to provide a service. They are the invisible presence that helps, directs, assures, and serves. They wear a uniform and maybe a cap.

You know the scripture that says I’d rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked? (Psalm 84:10) I’ve noticed that we sing songs using the first part of that verse: Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; but no one sings the second part of the verse, and I don’t think it’s because we can’t think of a catchy tune for it. We hear catchy tunes for cat food, right? Don’t tell me a jingle with the singular lyric “meow” isn’t at this minute playing in your head!

No, I think it’s because we’d all rather be at the party inside than standing at the door opening and closing it, picking up luggage, or giving directions to the nearest drugstore. We want to be where the action is. We want to be part of the action. In fact, if we’re truthful, we’d like to have a little bit of the action be about us, or, at the very least, be more important than the doorkeeper.

When we think of being a servant of sorts, we’d like to have a photo of us wearing some shade of khaki floating around social media showing the lengths we go to serve and how much we’re willing to sacrifice. Maybe we’d like to be formally dressed – with or without sequins – on a stage telling the world what Jesus means to us. In that picture, there’s a tear in the eye of an audience member touched by our song or testimony. Or perhaps we’re more part of the grunge crowd and when we’re present, the room doesn’t need air conditioning because we’re just that cool. Maybe we’re with a service group wearing matching tee shirts that identify us as doing something good. And we are! All of these scenarios are good. In fact, very good. But just outside by the door . . .

Image: Pexels.com