A Verse A Day
In the 84th Psalm, the psalmist makes this arresting claim: “I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than live in the tents of wickedness.”
You know, those tents of wickedness are pretty enticing. Perhaps it is the wickedness that one can imagine going on inside, debauchery dressed up as progressiveness, excess, profanely shedding the stiff clothing of conventionality behind the curtains. Perhaps it is the sheer luxury of those tents, baths of asses milk, silk from the east, abundant wine from the finest vineyards, rich sweetmeats, a table spread with fresh fruits and nuts, the best musicians offering songs of delight, elegant everything. Perhaps it is the status, the pride, the hubris of ownership, the “it” factor, the joy of knowing that anyone who is someone wants to be you, the influencer of all influencers.
And then there’s the doorkeeper. The doorkeeper doesn’t actually live in the house. It might be a fearsome guardian, who would take off the head of anyone who might try to meander in uninvited or by stealth. It might be an old sleepy fixture who has to be awakened to greet people properly as they enter. Nothing about this person says “me.” The uniform belongs to the house, the house belongs to the owner, the smile the greeting are all part of the script, an act, lending an air of dignity, while playing into the theater of owners who are too entitled to open their own door themselves. How many doorkeepers secretly loathe the person who calls them by their first name but who is always called with the utmost measure of respect?
The psalmist is ultimately saying, “I’d rather debase myself for the Lord than luxuriate for myself.” That sentiment can only make sense if the owner of the house is worthy beyond one’s own self-worth. That’s what I am holding today.
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