The Church House Door

From a distance all you see is the door,
it’s light pecan finish,
faux, painted on twenty years ago,
still intact, with only a chip or two
to mark it’s falseness.

Look closely, and you see the hasp,
rusted, broken,
not a bad thing, but a declaration
that are all welcome
to come,
or go.

About this poem

Years ago, I did a faux finish door for Carsley Methodist Church, for a building my family donated so they could have a fellowship hall. Last week I was in Carsley, down in Southeast Virginia, and if was fun to see the door and other things that connected me with my families’ past. There was a lock on that door

Later we visited a cabin my father and grandfather built the year before I was born. There was no lock on that door. (that’s where the picture was from).

It got me thinking, about faith, and a God who does not lock us in or out, but depends on our willingness to let him in to keep the relationship strong. And how, in the best of relationships, that same lack of locks is part and parcel of what makes them work.

Tom

PS – A picture of the church door is below.

Tom