Whenever I think of Wisdom, the first image that has always come to mind is an open door. I am sure that most people would agree that this is an appropriate image for her anyway, but mine is deeply embedded for other reasons.
Long ago, she sent me a card with one, and with Revelation 3:8 quoted inside: “Look, I have opened in front of you a door that no one will be able to close”. That card is still a frequently seen reminder of the first time I met her: a meeting which became one of the permanent anchor points along my path. The door towards which she was the first to point me has never closed.
Until Holy Week, when these particular thoughts were coming to me, I had always thought that she had opened that door for me; that she had, so to speak, been the gatekeeper who had pointed the way and encouraged me to move towards the opened door. I did not know her, and we spoke only briefly, but her few words during those fleeting moments, were the subtle trigger that began a process which put all that had gone before into a context that soon became the bedrock of the only life I know.
As I was writing to her, and Hope, on Maundy Thursday (the unsent letter), it dawned on me that while she had indeed been a gatekeeper, positioned at the right time and place to meet me on my unsuspecting arrival, she had put me at ease as I drew closer to a door which had already been opened. It had been opened by the One who caused her to pause when I was passing; to greet me and enquire of me, that I too may pause instead of wandering straight past. I had thought she had opened the door because it seemed almost that it was her own door; she had been so comfortable beside it. And it seemed clear that she was equally at home beyond it as she was where she stood, talking to me; even that she belonged on the other side of it, and had merely come visiting for a while. Perhaps what lay beyond the door was her true home? That would explain why I had never even noticed another door: the one she really did open for me, and through which I had unknowingly stepped as soon as I responded to her greeting.
These thoughts took me straight to John 18: to the door into the high priest’s palace, where another woman was on duty as gatekeeper, and where Peter, who could have gone straight through with “the other disciple” chose to stay outside the door. Why he did not take the opportunity when it first arose is not relevant here (though his turmoil may have some relevance for me), but it did get me thinking about the existence of other doors: doors other than the one “that no one will be able to close”.
That those words were spoken and written now implies – no, it makes clear – for me, that all other doors can be closed. It is equally clear, however, that we cannot deduce from that, that all other doors can be opened.
That those words were spoken and written now implies – no, it makes clear – for me, that all other doors can be closed. It is equally clear, however, that we cannot deduce from that, that all other doors can be opened.
Peter held back when the door before him was open, and missed that first opportunity. At the same time, he wanted to go through; why else would he have waited just outside the closed door?
The expression “to shut the door on” something can be used in many ways, broadly splitting into two groups. Someone else can shut the door on us; on our opportunities and our potential: on any aspect of our presence, our activity, or our influence. But there are just as many in the other group; those which involve our own decisions and our own shutting of a door. We shut out other people, and aspects of the world we wish to exclude from our lives and even from our consciousness; and from our conscience. Others can shut us out, but we are equally capable of shutting them out, along with whatever we do not wish to be part of, cannot face, or are too afraid or ashamed to confront.
We can be caught unawares if waiting close to doors over which we have no control, whether open or closed; and if we are right beside them, we can find ourselves in danger of falling through to where we do not want to be. We have only to think of the warnings on the London underground.
There are wide open doorways allowing free access to and from the lounges and dining areas at the home where Hope and I had our conversation, but, as Ella had demonstrated, we may not always find a doorway easy to locate, however wide the access may be. We need to have the eyes to see. We may be confident that we can see clearly and that we know where to look, but what chance do we really have of finding the way out, or the way in, when the doorway is not so wide? Finding it, as well as walking through it, can be like passing the sealed book around; I can’t read, and the person next to me can’t open it because it is sealed. And the majority of those in the room with us, whether they can open the book and read or not, will make no move until they are led by someone else who knows the way, or even by a blind person who encouragingly and confidently, but falsely, proclaims that they can find the way for us. And lying blanket-like over all other layers, is the fact that, in reality, we each have to find the way for ourselves. Finding ourselves in front of a door, closed or open, means we have already found our way to it. Anyone there to help us, gatekeeper or not, is able to make contact with us only if and when we have turned up; but would we be able to trust in their help if they told us we were approaching the wrong door?
“Try your hardest to enter by the narrow door, because, I tell you, many will try to enter and will not succeed” (Luke 13:24).
We fail through none other than our own fault; and not only through our lacking the eyes to see. “The narrow door” is easily missed, not only because without knowing what we are looking for and persevering in our search, its narrowness makes it hard to see, but because it cannot necessarily be taken to be the “door that no one will be able to close”. It may be one which seems to be permanently open, but which can close unexpectedly at any time; or it may suddenly be opened for us, only to close again soon afterwards (like the door into the high priest’s palace), giving us the opportunity to go through it, but withdrawing it if we spend too long holding ourselves back.
Our call to follow is not a call to abandon our individuality and to live passively as one of a flock of equally inactive and unthinking sheep. It is a call to follow Our Lord’s example: not only to do, but to see, to hear, to feel, to think, and to speak, that we may become able to do in the way that Jesus has shown us, and to accomplish all these things as the unique persons we have been born to become. Following that example involves learning, not only what to do and how to do it, but when to advance, when to stand one’s ground, and when to retreat; when to speak and when to remain silent; when to do and when not to do. Our attempts to duplicate Our Lord’s manner of living and of being become the following to which we are called, only when we have learned the importance of knowing the “when” of all things. He did only what His Father told Him to do, which means His example included doing all those right things at the appropriate time: at the right time.
There is a right time for each of us to walk through open doors (“I shall remain at Ephesus until Pentecost, for a very promising door is standing wide open to me…” (1 Cor. 16:8-9); “Those who were ready went in with him to the wedding hall and the door was closed” (Matthew 25: 10)); to wait beside closed doors (“Be like people waiting for their master to return from the wedding feast, ready to open the door as soon as he comes and knocks” (Luke 12:36); “Look, I am standing at the door, knocking. If one of you hears me calling and opens the door, I will come in to share a meal at that person's side” (Rev 3:20).); and to knock on closed doors (“knock, and the door will be opened to you” (Luke 11:9-10).).
Trying our “hardest to enter by the narrow door” means not just searching for it in space, but knocking on it once it has been found, and waiting beside it until the time is right; and that means God’s time, not ours; waiting for the narrow door to reveal itself in the passage of time: the narrow window of time and opportunity that brings God’s blessing on the efforts of all mature followers of Christ. “I tell you,” that without the discernment of God’s timing “many will try to enter and will not succeed”; and they will include even those who have found the door, and who are prepared to remain close by it, but for only a limited period of time.
