Missing Keys

Have you ever lost your keys?  Just as you are ready to head out the door, rushing frantically, exasperated.  Been there.

Or there’s always the memorable moments when we lock ourselves out.  My roommate in college locked me out of our dorm room quite a few times while I was showering.  I returned to my room wrapped in a towel, only to search our entire dorm for a Residence Assistant and maneuver around windows that faced the outside.  No worries: my roommate and I are still great friends to this day. :)

Moments like those make me wish there would always be someone there to open the door for me, then I would not have to keep track of my house keys.  In Biblical times, there was someone appointed to guard the door of the Temple as well as the city walls and gates.  Since moving to General Cepeda, I have had the opportunity to be the “doorkeeper” frequently in the mission house.  One of the blessings and also the difficulties of the mission house in General Cepeda is door ministry.  As long as the house has been in the possession of Family Missions Company, it has always been known to the Mexican people as a place to dispense clothes, food, alms, prayer, even just a listening ear.  Yet this is also the our home.  Sometimes it is easier to leave the house to do ministry because I am choosing to love these people, but when someone comes to the door at 11 p.m. at the end of a long day seeking assistance, unfortunately love may not always be my first feeling.  My feelings are more inclined to find my body horizontal.

One day during my afternoon prayer time the Lord showed me a beautiful verse that challenged me to adjust my paradigm:

“For a day in thy courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.  I would rather be a DOORKEEPER in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness.” (Psalm 84:10)

That Thursday, we went with the short-term group from Alabama on pilgrimage to Saltillo.  I was (again) visiting with Hugo, when I heard that two of the little missionaries (Eleanor and Mary Grace – both were there with their respective families) had asked, ” Is he (meaning Hugo) the owner of the Cathedral?”  When I told Hugo this he smiled his heart-melting smile and we laughed.  Then, I distinctly heard the Lord say,

“If my house is not for the poor, then who is it for?”

Hugo and I

This experience challenged me to welcome those who come to the door as Hugo greets the visitors to the Cathedral: with a smile, as though they were family.  At the end of our visits (with or without the groups), Hugo always asks us to pray with him and for a hug from everyone.  He treats those who come to the courts of God as a true doorkeeper in the house of God.  Hugo is materially poor: he has paralysis in half of his body and is in a wheelchair and his mother has lung cancer; his only means to provide for the two of them is to beg at the door of the Cathedral.  Yet I am the poor one.  Praise the Lord that His house is large enough to accommodate all of the poor – both the physically and spiritually poor.

While I still cannot seem to keep track of my keys, maybe I don’t really need them, not if I’m on the inside already.  I think I’ll be a doorkeeper instead.

Helping at the door in November for our Medical Mission

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