There are occasions when people ask me why I do what I do. These people are usually in church and as I speak I know they are thinking ‘You are mad … why would you want to wortk with them kids! Surely they are never going to be interested in Jesus’. There was even one occasion when an established older person in church said ‘Surely people like that are God forsaken, they are never going to believe in God … they are scum!’
I will not tell you the words that came to my mind, but I think sarah had to use all her calming powers on me that afternoon.
Generally, though, people do not understand why we have devoted so much of our time to work with young people who often challenge us; well this poem kind of verbalises it. I feel very much as person who’s role is to stand by the door to show people where it is.
I said in an earlier post that I used to think that my role was to take Jesus in to my community. I now believe he is already there and my role is to point him out. Standing by the door, showing people the way in, and encouraging people to go back in when they scared as they lose control and give it to God … how exciting is that!
I have been tempted in the past t go further in and just rest in God’s prescence. For short times I have done that, but afyter a while I find I get restless. I guess I just need to be out there. And it’s true … I am happy just being the doorkeeper – you get to see the anticipation and desire on peoples faces!
I’d be interested to know your thoughts on the poem, and our roles as door keepers.
I stand by the door.
I neither go to far in, nor stay to far out.
The door is the most important door in the world
-It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There is no use my going way inside and staying there,
When so many are still outside and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where the door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing 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 that any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands
And put it on the latch – the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man’s own touch.
Men die outside the 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 it – live because they have not found it.
Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him.
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 into the spacious attics.
It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in.
Sometimes venture in a little farther,
But my place seems closer to the opening.
So I stand by the door.
There is 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 all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia
And want to get out. ‘Let me out!’ they cry.
And the people way inside only terrify them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled.
For the old life, they have seen too much:
One taste of God and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside.
The people too far in do not see how near these 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 for them too,
I stand by the door.
I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not 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 again from God.
You can go in too deeply and stay in too long
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall 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 shall stand by the door and wait
For those who seek it.
‘I had rather be a door-keeper
So I stand by the door.
I have just noticed that the 
The Shiny Headed Prophet 