I'd Rather Be A Doorkeeper In the House of the Lord
Years ago, when I was in seminary, I served as the youth director of a large suburban Chicago church. Because the church was located to a very 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 magnifying g...