The Doorkeeper
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisbZJjx3i7cE3He4Anp2FiBMfUqPrHrpBDEavfwDgZW3m_5UZaIMNQjCo90C-Yt1NLE_ZKZZyM0nHhMh2O199taT3cuSocmiq8wSY_1Ci94ZG5H121Ln_MDU1jtTvDerA90n65WYP4RyhO/s400/Daily+Devo+New++Square.jpeg)
Years ago, when I was in seminary, I served as the youth director of a large suburban Chicago church (Evanston, to be exact). Because the church was located near a high crime area, it had a pretty stringent security process, which required someone to staff the front entrance and screen whoever was trying to enter. During the day, there was a paid staffer monitoring the entrance, but in the evenings it was zealously guarded by a particular volunteer. This volunteer--I'll call him Bob--was an older man, with a not-so-convincing gruff demeanor. Bob was a big guy, and even though he'd stooped some with age, he still set an imposing figure--albeit, one that was pretty soft around the edges. Bob's eyesight wasn't the best. It took a couple of years before he could recognize me through the glass door well enough to let me in on those rare nights when I didn't have my keys with me. He read his devotional books and his Bible every evening, using a huge magn