I Stand at the Door

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I Stand At the Door

I heard a knock at the door. I wasn’t expecting company. Who could it be?

As I stumbled through the dark and cluttered living room, a bright gleam caught my eye.

It burst through the peephole and between the cracks around the edges of the door. It seemed as if an avalanche of light was weighing on the other side, waiting to crash through and fill the house with an unquenchable radiance.

As I neared the fire-encircled door, I felt a warmth that replaced the damp cold of my house. Who or what could be on the other side of the door?

Curiously I eeked out the words, “Hello? Who’s there?”

With a voice that defied all description, a voice filled with such confidence and humility, a voice that seemed to melt my very bones, He spoke my name and said, “It’s me.”

It can’t be.

Why would He come here?

Why to me?

Why now?

“I’m sorry, this isn’t really a good time.”

“If not now, when?”

I turned and scanned my small, one-room home. The sink was overflowing

with dirty dishes, and the counters were covered in crumbs and a variety of sticky substances. My bed was unmade and covered in old laundry. My shoes, clothes and grease-stained pizza boxes were scattered across the floor.

Boxes of old memories lined the walls and spilled into the room. I hadn’t yet dared to go through them for fear of being overcome by the shame and regret they represented.

I felt like the number of boxes multiplied exponentially, making the clutter more difficult to manage. The stacks got taller and more intimidating the longer I looked at them. I’d have to move some to let my guest inside.

If I kept letting the junk pile up like this, I’d end up like my neighbor down the street. The number of boxes in his house was so staggering, he just didn’t answer the door anymore. It took too much energy to move them out of the way.

Then my gaze was captured by the corner — the darkest corner of the room. I couldn’t actually see the corner because of the array of boxes that enshrouded it, but the soft glow of my computer monitor crawled through the cracks between the boxes, reminding me of my secret.

I had tried over and over again to delete the search history on that computer, but to no avail. The thought of anyone ever seeing it sent a shiver down my spine.

“I’m quite busy right now. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’ve not come to seek help, but to give it.”

“I’m all right, thank you. There’s nothing in here that I can’t handle.”

I looked around the room again, overwhelmed by the thought of anyone seeing the filth I’d been living in. All my past attempts to get my house in order had left me completely discouraged. In my heart of hearts, I knew that He could rid my house of the boxes. All I’d ever managed to do was move them around.

I waited for an answer, then realized His silence was His reply.

“Please just go. You have no business being here.”

“I have no other business. You are my business.”

Why was He so persistent? There were millions of people with cleaner houses who would be better hosts than I.

“I don’t think you understand how dirty it is in here.”

I could feel the compassion in His voice. “I don’t think you understand how clean I can make it.”

I didn’t doubt His ability to make it clean, but I knew the minute I opened the door, the light He exuded would illuminate every stain, revealing each surface I had allowed to accumulate with dust and grime and everything I neglected to fix. It wasn’t necessarily pleasant living in the dark, but at least the darkness hid the reality of my situation. Plus, I wasn’t even sure if I was ready to part with the junk. Sure, it was messy, but it was familiar and comfortable.

Silence.

He then spoke my name, pleading.

“I just — I feel guilty about letting you come in and clean up my mess on your own.”

He chuckled. “Well, we’re going to do it together.”

I walked further away from the door, pacing back and forth among the walls lined with boxes, wondering if I should really let Him in.

What would He think of me when He sees how filthy it really is? What if the mess is too much even for Him, and He gives up just as I have?

I looked around again. For what seemed like hours, I fought within myself.

Exhausted, I sighed, “Fine. Come in.”

“You know as well as I that you have to let me in.”

Reluctantly, I made my way to the door. With every step, my heart beat faster

and sunk further into my gut. I reached for the doorknob in fear. Everything in my mind told me not to open it, but the light,

The light

like a magnet, pulled me closer and closer.

The moment I turned the knob, His light burst through the door.

All I could see was Him, as if I were in a tunnel and all else was blocked from my vision.

His light warmed my skin like the sun after the coldest night. I was drinking cool water after the longest drought. I was being reunited with someone I loved after the longest separation. He looked at me with a love that spilled into every crevice of my heart. I needed him here. I no longer feared His presence. His light brought a hope that I had forgotten to feel.

He handed me a broom. “Let’s get to work.”

Stay Curious and Hungry,

Hayden