The elderly gentleman that I visit anticipates my arrival. I have not figured out whether he is looking out the window, or the dog barks just enough to alert him, or he is actually standing on the other side, but the door opens even as I stroll up the sidewalk. Every time.
It is a lovely feeling to be welcomed this way. Admittedly, I do not afford my own guests such attention. They know to walk right in and say hi. By the time they reach the living room I rise from my chair. No points for hospitality.
This week he has been reading to me from a book called
Churchill's Ministry of Gentlemanly Warfare. Not necessarily the vocabulary one expects to link in a single sentence. The author reveals the espionage that won WW11. I had no idea, not that I am a history buff. The men and women who plotted devious ways to blow up bridges and trains were a unique blend of mischievous, brazen, and stealthy. Crippling one entry point across a river can protect an entire city. Destabilizing a railroad can thwart a complex strategy of attack. The British had smaller
weapons that were triggered by lifting a toilet seat, or picking up a book. One was called a castration device, and I have no interest in knowing the particulars.
What I hadn't contemplated before was that it is one thing to concoct bombs, and quite another to be up for penetrating enemy lines to conceal them. As I consider the wars currently raging in other parts of the
planet, I wonder just who those guerilla fighters are.
I recall a class I took in grad school about how God fights on our behalf. It all seemed so messy. My awareness is far removed from the battles that are waged against the selfishness that plots against me. Much of the time, it is easy to operate with the illusion that going to heaven or hell is as easy a decision as
choosing a vacation spot next summer.
It is only when the explosive reality of my temper, or the viciousness of my criticism surfaces, that I face the odds. Choosing graciousness over contempt is indeed a matter of life and death.
What catches me
unaware is how when I walk toward the Door, God is already opening it.