The Door

~ sparedbygrace@yahoo.com

THE DOOR

It’s been there a long time, a door. I knew that it was there and I felt its power.

Yet, I couldn’t find the doorknob. Couldn’t even see it.

That which is behind the door is important. It’s vital. I crave it. Yet, don’t know what looms behind it.

Progress, growth, maturity? I found the doorknob. Yet, fear overtakes me. Yearned for, but yet feared. Coveted, yet foreign.

Can I handle it? Though the old is awful, it is familiar.

Dare I risk? Apprehension, fear, taut stomach, set jaw. Moist eyes. Knot in throat. Whatever is behind the door must become.

The door’s ajar. Light. Excitement. Potential. Heart picks up its pace. Breathing becomes quick and shallow. Excitement, yet apprehension. I’ve never been this way before. Envied others. Yearned. Felt alone. Felt odd, awkward, and strange.

Yet, I suspect that I’m not strange. It would be a relief, a burden lifted, a band removed from my heart. Dare I give up the awfulness of security to risk newness? I must.

The door is on the heart of my being. That which was unknown, yet coveted, abides within. Potential for joy, happiness, fulfillment, play, expression, emotion, exhilaration.

Yet, deeply felt pain, tears, but those too, healthier expression.

Grab the knob! Pull open the door! Perhaps the light will initially blind, but my eyes will adjust to see new life.

Sure, be cautious. Fear a little. But, don’t fail to open the door.

If all the way is too much, test the water. Do it. Do it. Do it! Or, experience a bit of hell forever. Take heart, live, cry, go forward.

Risk! Pain, but reward. Fuller humanness. You CAN do it, and will.

-Richard L. Brewer
Written sometime in 1998

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Published by sparedbygrace@yahoo.com

I am Richard Brewer—a Christ-follower, psychologist, husband, father, grandfather (Papa) sometimes writer, and lifelong student of people. For much of my professional life, I've had the privilege of sitting with people as they wrestle with some of life's most difficult questions—questions about faith, suffering, grief, relationships, identity, failure, hope, and what it means to live well. Those conversations have changed the way I see people and the way I understand my own faith. They have taught me that life is rarely as simple as our explanations of it, that people are almost always more complicated than they appear, and that sometimes the wisest response to a difficult question is to empathize and to keep asking better questions. I am a committed Christ-follower, but I am not interested in pretending that Christianity eliminates mystery or that faith means having an answer for everything. Faith invites us to pursue truth honestly, to think deeply, to acknowledge what we do not know, and ultimately to trust the God we do know. Mediocre Meanderings is where I explore some of those questions. I write about faith and psychology, grief and suffering, leadership and relationships, aging and ordinary life—and occasionally whatever else catches my attention along the way. I do not write from the perspective of someone who has figured life out. I write as someone who has lived enough of it to know that I have not. These are my thoughts, questions, observations, and occasional attempts at wisdom. Take what is useful. Challenge what is not. And, if you would like, meander along with me.