april 9, 2001

I didn't often find myself in very scary situations, but here's another story of God's protection when I was feeling a bit worried:

I came to this church just as the evening service was starting last night. A communion service. So I communed with the Baptists yesterday evening, after communing with the Catholics yesterday morning. An older couple offered me some canned food and crackers from a donation box. And the pastor said I could sleep outside the church, though he warned me that this was a rough area (drug trade). Several, including the pastor, gave me the usual "Good Luck!" as they smiled and went about their business.

Then I met "The Doorkeeper." He wore a full beard and shaggy long hair, and was making the rounds to lock up all the church buildings. He approached me and we talked. "I don't really work here," he said "but somehow I got the keys to the kingdom." He'd been homeless himself, at one time. Maybe that helped him to be more sensitive to my needs. He saw that the mosquitoes were attacking me, and knew that this was a dangerous area, so he opened up one of the buildings and let me sleep inside (despite the fact that he had gotten into trouble doing this before). There was a bathroom, and cushions to sleep on. And time to give my socks and shirt a good washing.

I commented on how I often found generosity in the strangest places, like from an alcoholic at a bar rather than a pastor at a church. He said he had stayed out of churches because of the hypocrisy. "I'd rather be a doorkeeper in the house of God than dwell inside with the wicked," he said, then admitted "that's my own version" of the psalm (84.10). He gave me $5 and took off. Now, I don't agree that the people inside the church are "the wicked," but they sure made a poor showing compared to The Doorkeeper.