The Doors

I’ve met my fair share of doors in my life.

Doors to houses,

Doors to bedrooms,

Doors to bathrooms,

Doors to cars,

Doors to school,

Doors to classrooms,

Doors to work . . .

You get the picture.

We are constantly walking in + out of doors.

Most of the time without even realizing it as it is so a part of everyday life we don’t even take notice of the door.

Mostly due to the simple fact that it is a means to get to another place.

But have you ever had an emotional response to a door?

Ones that invokes feelings of joy + anticipation?

Ones that when you walk up to it you know that once you are through it you will be welcome no matter your appearance or emotional state?

Ones that feel thick with the very presence of God?

Sounds strange,

Even crazy.

I know, believe me.

But this little shed,

once a woodworking shop turned gathering space,

With these rough wooden doors,

Have captured my heart.

The moments we’ve had in this precious little space have, at various times, left me

Weeping,

Speechless,

Comforted,

Strengthened.

It makes me wonder of the owner previous.

The one who was a carpenter.

The one who custom made the cabinets in our kitchen.

Who laid the beautiful hard wood floors.

Who made the sturdy banister leading to the upstairs.

What was the state of his heart in that little shed?

What moments of confession or surrender might he had.

What moments of weeping over his children as he prayed over them.

I’m not really sure if the man was even a believer.

But something was cultivated behind those wooden doors.

An honest exchange between man + God.

A bearing of the soul so freely done that it made way for others to experience the same kind of vulnerability.

Feels intimidating, yet daring.

And all I am is thankful that I get to cultivate what was already started.