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Day 9--Sam Shoemaker
"I stand by the door. I neither go too far in, nor stay too far out. This door is the most important door in the world. It's the door through which men walk when they find God. There's no use my going way inside and staying there when so many are still outside. And they, just as I, crave to know where the door is. And all that so many ever find is a wall where that door ought to be. They creep along the wall like blind men with outstretched groping hands feeling for a door, knowing that there must be a door, yet they never find it. So I stand by the door.
"The most tremendous thing in the world is for men to find that door, the door to God. The most important thing any man can do is to take hold of one of those hands, and put it on that latch, the latch that only clicks and opens to that man's own touch. Many die outside that door as starving beggars die on cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter, die for want of what is within their grasp. They live on the other side of that door. They live because they have not found it. Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it, open it, and walk in and find God. So I stand by the door.
"Go in great saints, go all the way in. Go way down into the cavernous cellars and way up to the spacious attics in its vast roomy house, the house where God is. Go into the deepest of hidden casements of withdrawls, silence and sainthood. Some must inhabit those rooms and know the depths and heights of God, and call out to the rest of us how wonderful it is there. Sometimes I take a deeper look in. Sometimes I venture a little further. But my place seems to be closer to the opening. So I stand by the door.
"There's another reason why I stand there. Some people get part way in and become afraid lest God and the zeal of His house devour them. For God is so very great and asks for all of us. And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia, and they want to get out. "Let me out!" they cry. And the people way inside only terrify them even more. Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they're spoiled. For the old life they have seen too much. Once you taste God, nothing but God will do ever again. Somebody must be watching for the frightened who seek to sneak out just where they came in, and tell them how much better it is inside. The people too far in don't see how near these people are to leaving, preoccupied with the wonder of it all. Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door but would like to run away. So I stand by the door.
"I admire the people who go way in, but I wish they wouldn't forget how it was, before they got in. Then they would be able to help the people who have not yet even found the door, or the people who want to run away from God. You can go in too deeply, you can stay too long, and forget the people outside the door. As for me, I'll take my old accustomed place, near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there, but not so far from men as not to hear them and remember they are there too. Where? Outside the door. . . Thousands of them. Millions of them. But more important for me, one of them, two of them, ten of them, whose hands I am intended to put on the latch. So I stand by the door and wait for those who seek it. I'd rather be a doorkeeper. So I stand by the door."
God, make me a doorkeeper.
"The most tremendous thing in the world is for men to find that door, the door to God. The most important thing any man can do is to take hold of one of those hands, and put it on that latch, the latch that only clicks and opens to that man's own touch. Many die outside that door as starving beggars die on cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter, die for want of what is within their grasp. They live on the other side of that door. They live because they have not found it. Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it, open it, and walk in and find God. So I stand by the door.
"Go in great saints, go all the way in. Go way down into the cavernous cellars and way up to the spacious attics in its vast roomy house, the house where God is. Go into the deepest of hidden casements of withdrawls, silence and sainthood. Some must inhabit those rooms and know the depths and heights of God, and call out to the rest of us how wonderful it is there. Sometimes I take a deeper look in. Sometimes I venture a little further. But my place seems to be closer to the opening. So I stand by the door.
"There's another reason why I stand there. Some people get part way in and become afraid lest God and the zeal of His house devour them. For God is so very great and asks for all of us. And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia, and they want to get out. "Let me out!" they cry. And the people way inside only terrify them even more. Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they're spoiled. For the old life they have seen too much. Once you taste God, nothing but God will do ever again. Somebody must be watching for the frightened who seek to sneak out just where they came in, and tell them how much better it is inside. The people too far in don't see how near these people are to leaving, preoccupied with the wonder of it all. Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door but would like to run away. So I stand by the door.
"I admire the people who go way in, but I wish they wouldn't forget how it was, before they got in. Then they would be able to help the people who have not yet even found the door, or the people who want to run away from God. You can go in too deeply, you can stay too long, and forget the people outside the door. As for me, I'll take my old accustomed place, near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there, but not so far from men as not to hear them and remember they are there too. Where? Outside the door. . . Thousands of them. Millions of them. But more important for me, one of them, two of them, ten of them, whose hands I am intended to put on the latch. So I stand by the door and wait for those who seek it. I'd rather be a doorkeeper. So I stand by the door."
God, make me a doorkeeper.
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Cali
Re: Day 9--Sam Shoemaker
Revanto wrote:"Once you taste God, nothing but God will do ever again.
Revanto you shared some beautiful and true words tonight...I think of all the souls in the world hurting...and I think back on the hurt I've been through...and the hurt I've caused others....and how I've been set free from that hurt by the blood of Jesus. I guess it really came down to me accepting that freedom, and that's often where the "sticky feet" feeling can come in with so many souls. The insecurity of what's next or where to go...they look at us and think we have it all together...but in reality I struggle daily like anyone else...but I've got Jesus to lean on and these souls don't...but if we can be the doorkeeper as you've shared we can tell them...I've been there, I still fall, and I know it hurts...but one more thing I know is the direction to the Light. Letting them taste God
luv ya sis
Do you know my Jesus? Do you know my friend? Have you heard He loves you? If not, I'd like to introduce you.
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mlg - Posts: 4428
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i love this poem, Revanto. Thank you for sharing it. So many need to hear it and remember where we were..remember the darkness and death we were called out of....knowing there are so many souls still there...dying to be saved, dying to be heard, dying to live. God bless you, my sister in Him. This was an incredible reminder.
love in Christ,
momo
love in Christ,
momo
James 4:10 Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up.
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momof3 - Posts: 1402
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