Sing You Home ~ The Guardian

Greetings Dear Reader,

Inside me there is a guardian. It is the guardian type in one of the personality inventories that longs to protect and aid others. It is the most dominant facet of who I am with both its gifts and its flaws.

When I enhance its gifts, it is a very good thing and has moved me to help many along the journey. I have been able to motivate others to become their better selves and see the potential created in them. I have been able to sing them closer to home.

The flaws, the curse in being a guardian is that I also do not always know when others no longer need protection. I also become too protective when those I care for choose a path that is honestly and clearly harmful. When this happens, others see it as trying to control instead of trying to protect.

If I am going to sing you home I have to realize that I can only do so much for others. I can only sing the song I know. I cannot count on others to hear the tune or follow the pipe. That is not my place. My place is to sing and hope in faith.

The following is not to follow me but to follow the one I also follow. How that unfolds is not up to me. How you follow is between you and Christ. I will create a safe place next to me but remember that it is not a permanent place. It is not home but a place for you to rest, have a hot meal, or some companionship whilst we journey home together for a bit.

As a guardian I guard the journey not the space or time. I travel, standing guard over a path that is always there for you. When I place too much emphasis on the protection and not the journey I create a false safe space. I go too far in. I stay still too long. I cannot do that Dear Reader. If I am to sing you home I must realize that it is not singing you to me but, rather, singing you along the way to home. So, I stand by the path.

I Stand by the Door — Samuel Shoemaker

I stand by the door.

I neither go to far in, nor stay to far out.

The door is the most important door in the world -

It is the door through which men walk when they find God.

There is no use my going way inside and staying there,

When so many are still outside and they, as much as I,

Crave to know where the door is.

And all that so many ever find

Is only the wall where the door ought to be.

They creep along the wall like blind men,

With outstretched, groping hands,

Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,

Yet they never find it.

So I stand by the door.

The most tremendous thing in the world

Is for men to find that door — the door to God.

The most important thing that any man can do

Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands

And put it on the latch — the latch that only clicks

And opens to the man’s own touch.

Men die outside the door, as starving beggars die

On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter.

Die for want of what is within their grasp.

They live on the other side of it — live because they have not found it.

Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,

And open it, and walk in, and find Him.

So I stand by the door.

Go in great saints; go all the way in -

Go way down into the cavernous cellars,

And way up into the spacious attics.

It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.

Go into the deepest of hidden casements,

Of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood.

Some must inhabit those inner rooms

And know the depths and heights of God,

And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.

Sometimes I take a deeper look in.

Sometimes venture in a little farther,

But my place seems closer to the opening.

So I stand by the door.

There is another reason why I stand there.

Some people get part way in and become afraid

Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them;

For God is so very great and asks all of us.

And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia

And want to get out. ‘Let me out!’ they cry.

And the people way inside only terrify them more.

Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled.

For the old life, they have seen too much:

One taste of God and nothing but God will do any more.

Somebody must be watching for the frightened

Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,

To tell them how much better it is inside.

The people too far in do not see how near these are

To leaving — preoccupied with the wonder of it all.

Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door

But would like to run away. So for them too,

I stand by the door.

I admire the people who go way in.

But I wish they would not forget how it was

Before they got in. Then they would be able to help

The people who have not yet even found the door.

Or the people who want to run away again from God.

You can go in too deeply and stay in too long

And forget the people outside the door.

As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,

Near enough to God to hear Him and know He is there,

But not so far from men as not to hear them,

And remember they are there too.

Where? Outside the door -

Thousands of them. Millions of them.

But — more important for me -

One of them, two of them, ten of them.

Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.

So I shall stand by the door and wait

For those who seek it.

‘I had rather be a door-keeper

So I stand by the door.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, “That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a home owner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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Originally published at aramisthorn.blogspot.com on September 24, 2018.

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