Revelation 3:20 Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will dine with him, and he with Me.
The first time I remember being fascinated with doors was when my best friend from high school Amanda and I took a trip to RI to visit my cousin Will. We spent some time in Providence taking pictures and I just remember being captivated by people's doors.
When my cousin Rye and I went to London in the summer of '02 we walked along the quiet streets of the suburb in Southeast London and I couldn't get enough of the cottage doors. She sent me a postcard of Irish doors when she was on her honeymoon this year.
On Saturday afternoons Dave and I go door knocking in Searsmont near our church. We invite people to church and talk to them about God. I really love doing this because a door to a house is like the cover of a living story. Behind each door live precious people and I am so intrigued to get a glimpse into their lives. Our first door today was a farm in the middle of the woods. We could see through the window a teenage girl sitting on the couch with her boyfriend. She came to the door and was very friendly and said her mom was actually looking for a church. The second door was an older woman who was a believer but hadn't been to church in years. The third door was a young family. The fourth door was a woman from another country - maybe Finland or Sweden - with a big yellow lab that wanted to jump all over us. We pulled up to the last house on the street and agreed this would be our last door. The house was in disrepair. As I looked through the door a table was sitting near by. There were half empty Wendy's sodas on the table and opened bags of chips folded shut. The house looked dark and depressing inside. I saw a POW sticker on the little car outside and was wondering who lived behind this door. A not so well taken care of middle aged woman answered the door. I told her we were from the new church and were just out inviting people to service. She nodded her head in a "I don't care what you're saying" way. I asked her if she went to church and she told me that I have my beliefs and she has hers. I said okay and told her that God loved her. She said "whatever". The way the conversation was going I was going to politely say goodbye and be off, but her words didn't match her heart. As we were about to go she told us to wait. She called her partially crippled, elderly mother into the room. They were saying they were mad at God, didn't believe and didn't want to talk to us, but really they did. That's all they did was talk. The older woman told us about her woes with her recently late husband fighting in WWII and how the government treated him afterwards. They poured their hearts out to us and we listened. As time passed they softened and I felt led to hug the elderly woman. We didn't really ask them if they would go to church again but by the end they were saying they might come. People's lives really touch me. I don't care what their response is to our invitation. I truly want to be present in their lives in the moment that I am present and do what ever I can to share the love of God. It's such a privilege when someone opens to you the door to their heart. I don't want to take that for granted.
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