A doorkeeper stood waiting at the entry to the House of God. The master of the house told him through the Spirit that there would be one last wanderer to let in from the cold that night.
Behind the doorkeeper the glory of the Lord’s light cast his shadow long and narrow toward the edge of the woods. From out of the trees came a frail figure in poor man’s clothes. He walked slowly toward the doorkeeper with one hand shielding his eyes and the other clasping his chest.
“I am a stranger here and I know better than to ask if I can stay with you,” he said through short breaths. “But I am cold and tired and weary, and I’ve come so far on my own. I’m afraid I’ll die if I stay out in the cold one more night. May I come I inside where it is warm?”
The doorkeeper stood firmly in the doorway as the poor man tried to look behind him to see the source of the light radiating from inside.
“You may stay,” the doorkeeper said, “if you can tell me who you are in the Lord.”
The poor man thought for a moment, and then fell to his knees.
“I have been blind to myself almost my entire life,” he said. “It’s what led me into the wilderness. Like most people, I wasn’t awake to who I really was in the eyes of God. I didn’t realize I have a soul to develop or to protect. All I saw was flesh—what was before my own human eyes—giving in to all my weaknesses, never contemplating who was attacking me. But last night, when I reached the darkest place in the forest, I knew I couldn’t make it on my own. I realized I needed to call on the Lord’s strength. Suddenly, he drew me close to him, and I saw all there was to inherit. Eternal life. And at once this overwhelming feeling of gratefulness overcame me as I began to recognize and appreciate all the blessings I have in this world.”
Backlit by the lights of glory, the face of the doorkeeper began to shine warmly. He said:
“Brother, too few of God’s children look inward or to the spirits. They blame others for doing them wrong, they attribute their problems to their health or mental state. You are certainly among the rarest ones who finally come to see that their creator wants a relationship with them, and that you have a destiny to claim. But you still have not told me who you are in the Lord.”
The last wanderer replied: “I am nothing. Weak and broken. And yet I am still a son of God.”
The doorkeeper stepped aside and the light behind him filled up everything, seemingly lighting the world.
The poor wanderer rose to his feet. “Is that light from … Jesus …?” he asked. And then realizing who he was about to meet, he followed his question with another: “May I enter?”
“You are mistaken my friend,” the doorkeeper asked. “You are not standing at the door to his temple. He is standing at your door, knocking—for we are always welcome in our father’s house, but we seldom let him into our temple. Let Jesus in your heart and you will never walk in darkness again.”
The poor man’s heart filled with brilliance, then, and he took his first step through the doorway to forever light.