The sun was beaming through the small glass window on the sink in our small project apartment. Under the kitchen door was a small crack where the sunlight drew a thin line onto the floor. My mother had left to take my older sister to the high school and my baby sister to the baby sitters, and then she would return home to get ready for her work on the “swing sift.” I sat on the sofa in the living room only a few feet away from the kitchen, waiting the time when I would start my daily walk to middle-school.
There was a knock at the door. I was taught never open the door unless I knew who was there, so I asked, “Who is it?” No answer so I asked louder, “Who is it?!” Still no answer.
Through the small sunlit crack I could see what appeared to be the feet of someone standing there, just waiting for me to open the door. The fear of the unknown coupled with recent crank phone calls brought to my mind questions like, “what would this person do if I opened the door, or are they going to break in?”
My heart was pounding as my fingers found the metal holes of the old dial telephone, and with a shaking hand pulled each of the numbers posted on the front of our phone book.
My voice must have been quivering as I quietly said “There is someone standing at my door and will not tell me who they are.”
The dispatcher on the other end of the phone was very calming as he asked my address and at what door the person was standing. It probably seemed like an eternity at the time, but actually it was only a matter of minutes before I heard another knock. This knock came from the front door and I asked again “Who is it?”
“This is the police.”
I breathed a sigh of relief as I opened the door and saw a tall man dressed in dark blue. He came in, crossed the living room to the kitchen and opened the back door.
My eyes were open as wide as possible, and my heart was pounding as the door swung open. As the sun flooded the kitchen I could see clearly that there was no one standing there. I was relieved, a little baffled, but quite anxious to see what was on the other side of the door.
“I know there was someone there” I thought, as I watched the kind police officer bend over, stand straight up then turn around to face me. He was holding two loaves of bread. Like the milk man, the bread man came regularly and left the bread my mother ordered. He had knocked on the door, stood the bread on end next to the door, and then left.
Just as I could not see the bread on the other side of the door, neither can we see or even imagine what God has in store for us on the other side of heaven’s door.
“Here we see the manna falling small, like coriander seed, but there shall we eat the bread of heaven and the old corn of the kingdom……. We have many ungratified desires at present, but soon every wish shall be satisfied; and all our powers shall find the sweetest employment in that eternal world of joy. ….” Charles Spurgeon, Morning and Evening Readings (Morning July 20)
What we don’t understand, will become clear one day. It may take faith we never thought possible, but even our faith comes from Him. This faith may take us down a different path, and we may be surprised or even a little baffled along the way, but the son will flood our hearts with rays of unexplained love as we gaze through the glass darkly toward paradise.
“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” I Corinthians 13:12 (KJV)
The first part of this story really happened. The second part is a truth that has happened, is happening and will happen. Praise God!
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