From long ago...

I was looking through a file of old "Views from Above the Close" that I wrote back when I was Rector of St. John's in Waterbury. My office on the second floor looked out on the Close of the church--the 'backyard' in non-Episcopalian-speak..like 'real language'--so I called the essay I wrote each month "The View from Above the Close".

I found this from November of 1993, which I liked a lot, so I share it with you to ponder. As the Africans say, "If my words give you a blessing, let it stay with you; but if they bless you not, send my words back to me with you blessing.".

THE VIEW FROM THE STORM DOOR

You're probably tired of hearing what happens on our back porch. Our back porch, after all, is only 3 feet by 10 feet. it leads to a deck that is much larger, bu the back porch itself is what's been consuming me of late.

You're probably tired of hearing what happens on our back porch, such a small, insignificant space. And yet, as I understand God, encounters with the Holy can happen almost anywhere. In fact, if I were to give you advice (and I don't 'give advice' as a rule, and you should beware of anyone who does), my advice would be: pay attention to the back porches of your life--the little, insignificant places, the spots where you'd least expect God to be. God, so far as I can tell, often shows up in places like that. (But that's not 'advice'...I don't give 'advice'.)

Having said all that, the other night, when I was talking on the kitchen phone, I noticed a large moth between the door and the storm door to our back porch. The porch light was on the the moth was straining to get to it.

So, still talking on the phone, I opened the door and then the storm door to let the moth out. I went back to my phone call. Our back porch storm door has one of those closing devices on it, and that particular closing device is quite slow. I could fix that with a screwdriver and often think I should. But I haven't yet.

When I turned around, the moth was back between the doors, beating on the storm door again.  The door closed so slowly the the moth had returned to captivity. So, I opened the door again and let the moth out.

By the time I'd finished my phone call, because the storm door closes so slowly, the moth was once more trapped. The moth had twice chosen slavery and confinement over chill freedom.

I understood the moth's dilemma. It is my dilemma as well. The choice is difficult, perplexing. Freedom with great risk versus safe, warmer captivity. 

Isn't it alway so?

Freedom, creativity, vision, hope--they all have a cost. To step out into that Place requires leaving the safety and warmth of the storm door--the Known, the Familiar, the Comfortable.

More often than not, I choose as the moth chose. I opt for the familiar and the safe and the warmer against danger and chill and the unknown.

God calls us to leave our home and go to a new land--like Abraham. God calls us to leave Egypt and journey into the wilderness--like Moses. God calls us to step out of the boat and walk on water, like Peter. God calls us always to "take the risk" and "leave the familiar" and "step out".

More often than not, we choose to stay home, to remain in the familiar, to keep to the boat.

There's nothing wrong with that. It's only human. God understands.

But it is not what we were 'made for'.

"Ships in a harbor are safe", a poster I once had said. It went on to say: "But that's not what ships are made for."

I stood a long time by the storm door, watching the moth beat against it. I was conflicted, undecided.

If the creature preferred warmth and safety, who was I to decide otherwise? I know that decision well. Yet the moth longed for freedom, in spite of freedom's danger. So, I opened the storm door for a third time.

The hardest thing for me was shutting that storm door quickly, so the moth would have no choice. I could pull it shut and the moth would have no choice. I could pull it shut and let that moth go free. It may have died in the cold, but it would have died free.

I resisted and let the door shut on its own. The moth hovered around the light and then flitted back inside the door.

"Just like me," I thought sadly.

But that door closes really slowly, and at the last moment, the moth chose the chill freedom.

I feared from my friend, the moth, as the door shut. But as it shut, I was joyous. It is finally correct and holy to leave behind the comfortable to encounter the Wilderness, to step out of the boat onto the waves.

I only pray I have the courage of that small moth. And I pray for you as well.

God calls us from the warmth on the inside of the storm door. God calls us to step out into the new, the unexpected, the unknown.

God will not judge us for choosing safety. But the Adventure and the Journey is 'out there'.

Listen....God is calling us beyond the storm doors of our lives.....