The Final Door
I’d flown to Tucson, Arizona to be with my father. I imagined that I could just sit quietly by his hospital bed, but the nursing staff limited my visits to 15 minutes every hour. I became very familiar with the long hallway just outside the Intensive Care Unit.
The walls featured beautiful paintings done by various artists. But they all had a similar feature: Each one had a home with a door that was partially opened, but not open wide enough to see what was behind it.
One portrait featured manicured lawns and a huge mansion. Its door was golden.
Another was near a small lake, a rustic cabin had a wooden door cracked open.
One highlighted gorgeous views of the water, and a nearby home with its door ajar.
But the one that captivated me the most was the door to a church.
At first glance, it seemed dark inside—just like the others. But then I saw it.
If you looked quickly you wouldn’t notice. But I had time, so I saw that the door to the church opened just enough to see a light inside shining upon a cross.
That sliver of light on the cross reminded me: there is life beyond this world of sickness, stress, hurt, and hopelessness.
The world offers many doors but only one door opens to Jesus.
His promise to us is that this broken world isn’t all there is.
And in a world of broken promises, this door is worth going through.
“Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.” Revelation 3:20
