"I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved and will come in and go out and find pasture." (John 10:9 CSB)
Two doors stood before me.
One was bright and shiny...gleaming and enticing. It was very wide. A beautiful new welcome mat was spread out in front of it. A painted sign in soft shades of blue and green hung on the door. It read, "Come on in!"
The door opened easily. In fact, I did not have to make any effort at all. I'd barely touched the door when it swung open. I stepped inside without even having to put down all the packages I held in my arms.
Behind the door was everything I ever thought I wanted. Every possession. Every accomplishment. Every pleasure. It was all about me.
At first, I was happy behind that door. But after only a very little while, I felt discontent, dissatisfied. I wanted to leave.
I went back out and stood looking at the other door. It was rough...made of battered, splintered wood. It was very narrow. It had no welcome mat: only a pile of dirty rags lay in front of it.
The sign on this door looked like it had been handwritten in blood. It read, "Come to Me."
I put my hand on the knob and pushed, but the door was hard to open. I had to lay my packages down. I had to lean my full weight into it. Finally, the door opened a few inches, and I eased my way inside.
Behind this door was everything I never knew I wanted. Every joy. Every treasure. Every hope. It was all about Him. And after I had been there for 10,000 years, it was still the only place I wanted to be.
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I'd love to hear from you! Feel free to tell me what you really think. Years ago, I explained to my then-two-year-old that my appointment with a counselor was "sort of like going to a doctor who will help me be a better mommy." Without blinking, she replied, "You'd better go every day." All of which is just to say I've spent some time in the school of brutal honesty!