Doorkeeper

I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
than dwell in the tents of wickedness. -- Psalm 84:10b

I've always wanted to be a world changer, to do something great for God. Anything less seems like a waste of time and energy.

When I was younger I went on several mission trips with dreams of becoming a missionary. Not a single salvation can be attributed to my presence there. Holding on to thoughts of helping the less fortunate, I thought about pursuing a career as a doctor. I had plans to take some classes in this field at the local vo-tech. However, I didn't meet the age requirement and was diverted to an engineering class (looking back, I'm pretty sure it was for the best).

I've gone on reading books about radical Christianity, wondering why can't we just give our all and do great things for God right here in our towns. Seems like there is just so much we could do if we just were not afraid / not selfish / more compassionate / [insert missing component here]. There's always something holding me back it seems. And so, I live in a constant state of failure.

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"Better a doorkeeper..."

Last year, this phrase started playing over and over in my mind. I'm not sure why. Perhaps God was trying to tell me something. Every once in a while the words will come back: "Remember...better a doorkeeper..." These words would come to mean so much to me.

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"I'm willing to serve, but on my terms."

Coming to Norman, I had my own ideas of how I would serve God. I was going to start community, get involved in church, help the less fortunate, start my writing career. These were my plans. A year later, there is no community and my church attendance is erratic at best. I did find a food pantry to help at occasionally, but none of this was how I dreamed. I still feel like I'm sitting here idling.

I wanted to change the world from my little apartment. Or at least my town. Or even just the apartment complex. Seems I can't even get to know my neighbor. My plans had fallen flat. When you get right down to it, I was trying to impress God. "Look, God, at how much I can do for you!" When we seek to impress or call out for attention, we forget who God made us to be.

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"If I cannot step outside these four walls to be a blessing to people, then I will be a blessing to others from within these four walls."

I wrote the words above as I struggled with the failure of my plans. The truth is I'm not an outgoing person. I am more comfortable typing than talking. That's how God made me. It is not for me to rebel and say "Why didn't you make me like him or her. Why didn't you make me so that I could do this or that." God has given me talents--I can choose to use them or bury them as I despair over my failure to do things I was never meant to do. I can scold myself for not walking up and talking to a stranger or I can use my energy to write a note to a friend.

The problem is my pride. I want to do something that I see as great, that will earn a name for me or make me feel fulfilled, like I've done something that really mattered. And so, "Great" becomes the goal. A doorkeeper isn't good enough.

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"Some days the only thing that keeps me going is knowing that I have made a difference in somebody's life."

This is the one thing I keep coming back to. I may have made a failure out of all my projects, all my schemes of greatness. But I know that I have made a difference in somebody's life. And for that it is all worth it.

That's what it means to be a doorkeeper. To live without worry of how you measure up to the standard, of how "great" your deeds will be, of how you will measure up to other believers--but simply be light. I would rather make a difference in one person's life than speak to thousands who simply nod and applaud.

Whatever you have to offer, however insignificant it may seem--give that. Don't try to give what you don't have or to be someone else. Just do what you can, day by day. Let go of pride. Be the least. Be a doorkeeper.

What We Were Created For

I stare out at the audience, an army of eyes eagerly waiting for my message. I look down at my notes, the words carefully chosen for impact. I lift my head to the camera waiting for the signal. Waiting to speak as no teacher has spoken before. Ready to change the world. And yet...something feels off.

The audience dissolves, the dream fades and I find myself staring at my computer screen. Five new emails. One catches my eye.

The first thing I notice is a picture that can best be described as the burning bush if it were at the birth of Narnia--flames of magical color shooting forth in harmony with the song of Aslan. At the same time the place seems both homely and forbidden. Like a sort of sacred ground. And I can't help but wonder if I were invited by mistake.

Then there were the words. Only three of them. "Less of me." There were many more words in this place, all of them beautifully inscribed. But it was those three that continued to echo around my mind.

Humility is one of those traits that seems to continually elude me. I know it in my head, but I also love to put on a show. The lights come on to reveal a scene beyond imagination. The music runs through my head continually, rising and dropping with the story's tension. Like a conductor, I raise my arms; like a director, I command this universe of my own. That's what I see.

In Judaism, humility is said to be filling the space you have been given--no more, no less. Everyone has been allotted space in this world; each person's space unique.

When I imagine teaching, something always feels off. When people compliment me for knowing my Bible, I get uncomfortable. Like I am occupying a space in which I do not belong. It's different with my stories. I don't know why or if will always be that way. Maybe because it seems like less of a responsibility than teaching. Maybe because it is more personal. I don't really know. But when I write a story, I feel like that is my place to be the director, to command the song.

I look back up at the stage. That is not my space. Not now.

I look back to the Narnian tree. In wisps of fire, I see a story untold. I see raw imagination ready to be crafted into words. And I can't help but wonder, is this where I belong?

Relationship

Can your Kingdom work get in the way of God? Can loving people take the place of loving God? Yeshua said "Love God" first and "Love your neighbor" second--but what if we get these reversed? Or can you say that you love God by loving people? I think to some extent this is true, but I don't think loving people can replace loving God.

What does it mean to pursue God with all your heart, soul, and strength? To put Him before your family, your friends, your good works, your dreams, your fears, your life purpose. We act like we are doing God a favor by asking what His purpose for our lives is. Is it not an act of grace to even have purpose? Does God owe us that much? We act like every commandment we keep is something we give to God, but is it not something God gives to us? To allow us to do what pleases Him?

If we are dust then what can we do to add or subtract from the Almighty's plan? Can we add one soul to the Kingdom by worrying if we are doing it right or whether we've found our life purpose? Is not every soul in His hands?

I often say we are the hands and feet of God, and I still believe that. We are the miracle workers, the called out ones, the healers of the nations. But the work is God's. And it is to Him and Him alone that we owe our devotion and love--not the world.

I heard a piece of advice to married couples once, to always put the marriage relationship before the children. Because the first thing the children need is a Father and Mother to look to. Would this not be true in our relationship with God as well? Do we not need to put that relationship with God before our work for God?

Is God enough? Or must you add purpose, good works, fulfillment, etc.? Think about it. If God said to step back from family, from ministry, from service, just to spend a little time with Him, could you do it? Or do our good works keep us so occupied that we've lost time for God?

Life is an adventure. God reaches out His hand and calls us to come with Him. His Kingdom is under His control. His plan is being executed perfectly. The people around you--they're in His hands. The only thing that matters between you and Him is your heart. Does it belong to Him? When emotions fade and works fall away, does your heart belong to God?

I don't know the answers to these questions, but they've caused me to pause and think. Am I pursuing God or a feeling? Am I pursuing God or good works? Am I pursuing God or a sense of fulfillment and purpose? I'm not saying these other things are bad. But is it possible that they can distract us from true relationship?

I May Never Be a Millionaire

Listening to a song called "Millionaire" by FFH and reflecting on life. The song is about all the things that people lift up as their highest goals--money, fame, beauty, adventure. As humans we seek the secret to finding "fulfillment" in life. We seek happiness. Acceptance. Attention. Love. Maybe some of us don't know quite what we're looking for, we just know there has got to be more to life. So we press on, reading books, talking with friends, seeking ever seeking the thing that will complete us.

I'm an idealist. I don't like the idea of just accepting that there is nothing I can do to find the perfect life. Emotionally, mentally, physically--it seems there must be some way bring every aspect of life into order. Some worldview or outlook on life that will allow me to find contentment in everything.

Especially when you've experienced those moments when everything seems just exactly right. There is no burning hunger, no aching pain. Only joy. And though you don't understand it, everything just makes sense. Then the moment fades. "Reality" sets in. Circumstances change. What you wished could last forever comes to an end.

And then you hear that you just need to look to God for fulfillment. The things of this world will satisfy you for a little while, but only God truly satisfies. Does that mean you feel fulfilled when your life is following after God? In my experience, no. I don't feel fulfilled. I don't feel like I've found the secret to happiness. I don't always feel comforted. I don't always feel close to God. Sometimes nothing makes sense. Sometimes the hunger burns. Sometimes the pain just doesn't go away.

There is a season to rejoice and a season to mourn.

There is a season to love and a season to hate.

There is a season to be inspired by the journey ahead and a season to simply pray your feet are taking you somewhere.

There is a season to run with all your might and a season to just fall into the hands of God.

Everything comes in its season until this earth passes away and we finally go home.

That's the hope. That's the promise.

What is the secret to a fulfilled life? There isn't one. You can spend your life pursuing it, but I don't think you'll find it. Then again, I don't have many years behind me yet--maybe you'll prove me wrong. But right now, where I'm at right now in this moment--I believe the only thing we can do is to be there for each other. The good times and the bad times will both come. Knowing that someone is thinking of you, praying for you means a lot. And when you are a friend to someone else, you change their world.

I may never be a millionaire, may never breathe the mountain air. I may never find a happiness that stays or the answers to all my questions. I may never find the perfect job, the perfect community, or the perfect way of living. But I'll be the light of the world. When darkness falls and your candle is dim, I'll shine my light into your life, so that maybe...just maybe you might find a little more hope for today. And when your light burns bright, I will rejoice along with you so that your fire may burn all the brighter.