Luke 13:18-30
He said therefore, “What is the kingdom of God like? And to what shall I compare it? 19 It is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his garden, and it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches.”
20 And again he said, “To what shall I compare the kingdom of God? 21 It is like leaven that a woman took and hid in three measures of flour, until it was all leavened.”
22 He went on his way through towns and villages, teaching and journeying toward Jerusalem. 23 And someone said to him, “Lord, will those who are saved be few?”
And he said to them, 24 “Strive to enter through the narrow door. For many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able. 25 When once the master of the house has risen and shut the door, and you begin to stand outside and to knock at the door, saying, ‘Lord, open to us,’ then he will answer you, ‘I do not know where you come from.’
26 Then you will begin to say, ‘We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.’ 27 But he will say, ‘I tell you, I do not know where you come from. Depart from me, all you workers of evil!’ 28 In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth, when you see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God but you yourselves cast out.
29 And people will come from east and west, and from north and south, and recline at table in the kingdom of God. 30 And behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”
Today, I had a lovely day going to the house of a friend, who is an artist. Hospitality with the Holy Spirit is... a good thing! And a hearty, good laugh over an outreach, hopeful, project to the younger generation with a resilient recommendation of punch with cookies. Um, no. OKAY! Wine with cheese! Much better!!
My friend has sold her very expensive home in an exclusive golf community to live in a very small, around a thousand square feet,rural,almost barn-type setting. The funds were for her children. And our Church.
Her front door is like the photo above. And all had to enter oh-ing and aw-ing over the front door. The former owners found the antique door & built the warm, lovely cottage around the porch & the wonderfully wood-grained door. Every part of this home has unique flair, from her artistry and knack for warmth. My friend was never told her art was not so perfect and in fact, draws from her talent of valuing herself as she is rather wonderfully unique rather than Renaissance perfection.
Our next set of doors that were so beautiful, I had to ask about them and the story was worth the telling. This is a retirement home, the husband has a job in the healing industry. He calls this "The House Sandra Built." And they gleam saying this. The doors are very pretty and were found while house hunting.
The builder bought beautiful doors that wouldn't fit. Our lovely friends bought the doors and the builder, in transporting them, broke them horribly. Now the smashed doors were a beautiful ruin and given to them, practically. Not people to give up on broken, when treasure is to be found in the project - they restored the doors so beautifully, they bought another door for their wine and incredibly detailed pantry. Ah. If only I had a photo of the pantry. The one that got away.
Our second home sat on the market for three months after we visited the house. It was delightfully done (by a rather well-known, locally) watercolor artist. The house was swathed in baby blue and baby pink Navaho blanket. Ew. I knew looking at the house, I surely did not want to live there. And was Completely Astonished, going around the corner of massive, amazing, wonderfully aromatic roses, to discover a shed (this photo is artistic license) with the original house front door on the front. I think this caused us, three months later, to bid and buy the cosmetic re-do. Never be afraid of the opportunity to put your own seal on a cosmetic re-do! We loved the shed, probably best. It had a wonderful book shelf we painted rust and still resides in my elder son's bedroom.
I grew up with two front doors, one was an antique salvage from Chicago. A cousin once told me I'd have a married, raise your children house, very similar to my childhood home - where my dad had drawn our house plans. The first front door was a green, full shutter door. We frequently had comments asking why we had two front doors hiding the good one. My father was an interesting man, he bought salvage Chicago brick for the house, way before people thought to add the word 'antique.' The house was Williamsburg from their honeymoon trip where they were captivated. I grew up wanting French furniture to escape from 'colonial constipated.' Well, we all want to do something different somehow from our parents!
My brother lived in El Paso for five years and was horribly unhappy his first year there. Five years later, when they were called to move out, he wept. He said El Paso was the place he never knew he wanted to live, all his life. He found his stucco-house front gates/doors (to the courtyard garden) in Mexico. The beautiful, worn doors were on a house and John was captivated. He knocked on the door. offered a nice fee and was warmly accepted. He still misses those doors.
This was before you couldn't go to Mexico and no one didn't mention that much. (How can we live five hours from Mexico and not be appalled at the crime and fear of good people?) John worked in the El Paso City Attorney's Office, for a time. His opinion on the thousand a month people murdered in Juarez - that it's actually people hunting. Bonafide sick people hunting people. Do you realize Detroit was the USA murder capital and their total is 600 people murdered in a year. Not monthly numbers. Juarez had this many people dying in a month, way before the drug cartels drove so many innocent business owners and border towns into fear, isolation and bankruptcy. Where is our good neighbor policy? Prayers for the good people in Mexico, please, every time you think of them.
Light, like Love, is a symbol of the Lord. Love covers a multitude of sins. Frankly, I just really like this doorway. But. Isn't there always a but.
Proverbs 17:19 ~ Douay-Rheims, 1899
He that studieth discords, loveth quarrels: and he that exalteth his door, seeketh ruin.
Xander, our youngest son, has had an Amazing summer trip to Israel, an archaeology trip looking around the Sea of Galilee - where he found a 4th century coin. And a trip to Petra. This photo is in front of the famous Al Khazneh, or The Treasury at Petra.
Job 12
Then Job answered and said:
2 “No doubt you are the people,
and wisdom will die with you.
3 But I have understanding as well as you;
I am not inferior to you.
Who does not know such things as these?
Petra has its own puzzles, there is a stele telling of arabic gods worshipped, but largely Petra was a city where water was controlled, elaborately in the desert. To get to Petra, even today, you risk your life walking the wadi's. A flash flood is deadly to tourists. The walls tell of many different raids and people argue over the capability of the buildings, left in ruins.
(Settlements began in the eighteenth dynasty of Egypt (1550–1292 BC). This part of the country was biblically assigned to the Horites, the predecessors of the Edomites. The second book of Kings 14:7 and the parallel passage Sela is understood to mean simply "the rock" in 2 Chronicles 25:12. Josephus (Antiquities of the Jews iv. 7, 1~ 4, 7) Bishop Eusebius and Jerome, state 'Rekem was the native name and this name appears in the Dead Sea Scrolls. The Rekem inscription was found carved in the walls before it was buried by the bridge abutments and buried beneath tons of concrete.
According to Arabic tradition and pilgrimage, Petra is where Moses struck a rock with his staff to bring forth water. Aaron (Harun), is buried, at Mount Hor. The Wadi Musa or "Wadi of Moses" is the Arab name for the narrow, narrow and can be deadly in flood valley at the head of Petra's site. A mountaintop shrine of Moses' sister, Miriam, was part of the pilgrimage at the time of Jerome, in the 4th century, but its location is lost today.)
My own door, is not so dramatic. We bought our house thinking we were reminded of my husband's very precious maternal grandmother. The front door and rear of the house resemble my childhood home. I painted the door green again, only to find it was too green. After I added black to the mix, it was declared by friends to be Charleston Green. And I noticed again, the beautiful carvings on the door and remembered Edward declared the house to be ours before we ever entered the house. He looked through the glass and said, "This is our house!" Before we even opened the door.
Psalm 107:29-32
29 He made the storm be still,
and the waves of the sea were hushed.
30 Then they were glad that the waters were quiet,
and he brought them to their desired haven.
31 Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,
for his wondrous works to the children of man!
32 Let them extol him in the congregation of the people,
and praise him in the assembly of the elders.
Father GOD, help us remember, in the events and predictability of life's slings and arrows of outrageous fortune - to be grateful. The door itself is not the focus, but the opportunities You bring us to draw out gratitude and patience. Weathering the storms, with faith in You, keep us in Your mercies. In the name of Jesus Christ the Lord. Amen.
Whatever your door looks like is not exactly the point. Narrow is the gate. We need, in our walk with the Lord Jesus Christ, to appreciate our lives, talents, and situations as we are the people of God. The Lord loves us as we are. Developing ourselves, appreciating the gifts He bestows so willingly upon us. How high, how wide, how deep is the unfathomable Love of our Father who knows us so transparently. The gate is narrow because the vastness of a loving Creator, our Father, brings Himself to our door. In HIM, we live and move and have our dwelling. The Universe He created at your door.
Romans 11:29
For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.
Elisha heard that quiet voice. We must listen to Him.
Proverbs 8:34
Blessed is the one who listens to me, watching daily at my gates, waiting beside my doors.
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