Stuck at a Handicapped Door in the Library

You know, I’m kind of weird some days. Okay shut up, more than some, but I have a point. I stopped by our local library tonight to pick up a bunch of C.S. Lewis books (I’m still waiting for my Kindle Fire Christmas gift – hint, hint, nudge, nudge, say no more, say no more). I barrowed 4 hard copies and 1 audio CD package; I’m feeling like immersing myself in some Lewis for now.

Anyway, as I went to leave, I approached the brushed aluminum door. So nicely glazed and appointed I just had to stop exhale. “Nice door” I thought. “Wish I could have a set in my church.” Anyway, as I stood there I reached out and punched the blue handicapped button. In an almost capricious way, as if I had some kind of power at my beck and call (I do that sometimes).

Most of the time the door swings apathetically open in a way that says; “Hold your shorts buddy… you’re handicapped.” But this time nothing happened. That’s right nothing.

I punched the button again, and again, and again even faster (as if that would help); but nothing. So there I stood Stuck at a Handicapped Door in the Library and couldn’t get out. Now granted I could have done a speed skater move and shuffled to the right to get out, but no, my pride just locked me there in mortal combat with an amoral inanimate servo switch; stupid me.

But in that instant, something dawned on me. How often have I been on a quest for knowledge and solace at the feet of God or some lessor being, only to find myself bagged up and ready for warfare and study, yet locked by pride in combat with something I had no power over? Seriously! And you? Me more often than I care to admit.

So here’s the crazy thing. Was the door not opening MY FAULT? Did I not punch the button accurately enough? Did I not finesse its smooth concaved divot with enough grace and tenderness that would otherwise swoon a lesser servo device – yet this one stands like a bulwark unmoving?

Or was it the Manufacture? Was it HIS FAULT? Did He not think of every contingency failure? Did He not gaze upon the beauty of the brushed aluminum and polished laminate handicapped sign and say “Well done” and speak it into subservient and perpetual obedient response? Did He even consider the ramifications of a door not opening for one who patiently waits to see the Magic of His illustrious leadings? I think not. Relax it’s not the Manufacture’s fault. I really love the Manufacture.

Oh I know, it’s the fault of the low paid custodial maintenance people at the “public” library. They must not have given their best as to the regular maintenance of servo electronics and hinge dynamics. They must have been pining away in the basement surfing the city’s free webhosting looking for “This Old House” YouTube reruns instead of doing what they’re paid to do with my tax money. No it’s not likely that either.

You know what I determined the problem was? Me and reality. Me in the fact that I was too bull headed in the moment to move to my right about four linear feet. And reality; in the fact that entropy, atrophy, corruption, corrosion and gravity happen in this fallen cosmos and especially on this fallen planet; but the day is coming when that will change.

Romans 8:19-21 NIV 1984 “The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. 20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.”

So the next time I find myself Stuck at a Handicapped Door in the Library and drop into a cosmological fog; I’ll breath and know there is no one to blame but me and reality. And heck, at that point I don’t want to start punching myself like a self-destructive postal worker. Nor do I want to level a shot gun at the doctoral advisory committee who pissed on my dissertation then went off to smoke their pipes and muse about higher things. Serious, reality happens to the best of us. No one is exempt.

So take heart, be at peace and step to the right about four feet and keep walking. But don’t expect doors to magically open simply because you punch the beautifully-appointed-religiously-anointed-servo-trend-setters-and-go-getters-button. Sometimes you gotta shuffle a bit and push the door for yourself. Especially when you find yourself Stuck at a Handicapped Door in the Library.

One thing I do: press toward the Mark.