Greetings Dear Reader,
Sometimes we shoot our wounded. Some of us always do it. Some of us do it but not always. For many years I did not realize how wounded
I truly was. I also did not always
realize when I was shooting the wounded.
I suppose we should start by identifying the wounded.
On the grand scale, it is all of us. We have to get to comparing wounds before we
can say it is those who suffer certain kinds of pain who are the true wounded. We will view the pain of others as either
less or greater than our own depending on our position and need. Another thing we do is measure the need of
another based on our opinion of his or her wounds.
Then there is the thing we do that is heinous and opposite of
love. We judge the wounded and betray
our obligation to restore and help heal them.
We pass judgment on the words and deeds of others. We gossip when we should pray. Our minds go to their flaws, failures, and
sin instead of their need. It becomes
about our agenda and not their wounds.
We must get this and keep it in our minds: we are all
crooked sticks. Every single one of us
has wounds that need tending. We cannot
tend them on our own. When someone
expresses his or her need or pain, caused by us, we deny, justify, and
excuse. When he or she pains us, we
condemn and dismiss out of pain. We fail
to stand firm in our love and instead dig our fingers into the wounds until they
cry out or react in a way that we can call foul.
In the church, we even systematize our judgment to supposedly
prevent others from doing wrong. Instead, we drive them out of the fellowship and into the darkness. We watch as they limp away and wonder why
they have left us. We see those who need
the love of Christ so deeply giving up hope and trying to return to a life that
can never satisfy, never heal.
We also see those who want to come in terrified of the way
we treat our own wounded. They are in
desperate need of our love and caring acceptance. Instead, we build constructs that keep them
out. We devour hope with sectarian rules
and practices that yield little more than division. We paint lines that are not drawn by God and
call them his will.
The house is not ours.
It is not our place to determine what is right for someone else. It is our obligation to love, be honest in
our understanding of God, and let him deal with everyone as he sees fit. We are watchers. We tend the fire of truth and love Dear Reader. Every one of us has wounds that need
caring. We all find it difficult to see
past them to the genuine needs of others.
I must keep firewatch no matter what others have done. Even if they have done it to men, I must
forgive, remember where I came from to be at this fire, and make sure that I
stoke its warmth of love for any who may need to draw near. I have always been and must always be a door
warden. I treasure it when you fain to
take a firewatch with me Dear Reader. We
must stand by the door together and love anyone who needs in or thinks they
need out. We must keep the watchfire
stoked and warm so that it stands in contrast to the darkness beyond. The fuel that works the best is love dealt
out with grace, humility, and kindness.
I Stand by the Door - An Apologia for my Life -
Samuel Moore Shoemaker
I stand by the door.
I neither go too far in, nor stay too 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.
Wishing you joy in the journey,
Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every
writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a
homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure
store.”
(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Contacts for Aramis Thorn:
Bookings: aramisthorn@aramisthorn.com
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