What Knocks?

D.H. Lawrence in a poem titled, “The Song Of a Man Who has Come Through,“ beautifully describes the individual who contemplates what knocks on the door in the night. And because he allows what knocks to enter his life, he breaks through to a new place.

The darkness of December inspires me to also consider what might be knocking on my door. What new mission, thoughts and perspectives might I embrace? What new places might I need to explore and fish? What new people might I need to allow in my life?

In the case of this poem, the narrator at first seems to question if the one doing the knocking is here to cause harm. But then, concludes that it is three strange angels.  He decides to open the door, to admit the angels who knock; “Admit them, admit them.”

However, most often in my life, out of fear, I play it safe. I seal myself off from what knocks and even those individuals who may wish me well.  Of course, there is often a fine line between what wants to help us and who perhaps wants to do harm.

Often if a significant change is going to come to me it can be fearful.  I consider the times in the Bible when God or angel addressed different people and said, ”Do not be afraid.”  Being called by an angel can be frightening.

Around 40 years ago while sleeping in a hotel room in Corvallis, Oregon a knocking came to the door.  It was my father who had flown 6 hours across the country to watch me wrestle in the NCAA wrestling championships.  I had no idea he was coming. I felt afraid.  I felt stressed that he came all the way out only to watch me lose (or at least that was how I felt about it.)  What was strange was that I didn’t even want to be there!  I wanted to quietly, and without a fight slip away.  Of course that was not what was on my father’s mind; he was hoping to see his son compete, maybe even win a few matches, and perhaps, although a long shot, earn a top 8 in the country All American Status.

I would stay in Oregon for 5 days. No other team mates were with me. This was all a strange experience as if time slowed down. I could not rationally understand what was happening.   I had to warm up and drill moves by myself.  I had a lot of alone time. And there was strange weather; rain and hail and I ran in some of those storms as I watched the lightning in the far hills.

In the evening I would walk down the highway to a Baskin and Robbins Ice cream shop and sit inside by myself looking out the window. I loved to reflect, think, and I guess, pray. I had written out some Bible verses on little cards and would read them.  I could not deny that there was a feeling that Something was going to happen but it made no rational sense.   

I do remember realizing that in this competition I really had nothing to lose. I felt as though I was caught in the middle of this event, lost; a nobody, but perhaps I had Something to accomplish.

 I opened a door but I am not certain how.  

Did I admit them? Did I speak with those angels?

I believe in a clumsy manner I did say yes.  And with that decision, perhaps an angel helped me and changed life events.

What was so strange was that if I were in charge of arranging miracles for the purpose of giving certain individuals hope, I would have done it differently. I would rather execute some grand flashy move that wooed the crowds.  But that never happened.  All that seemingly happened was that I was awarded a key penalty point at a key moment, in each match, which gave me the lead. Nothing more, nothing less.  Very subtle; Nothing dramatic.  It would not be too much to say, the points came out of thin air and most folks watching did not even know what happened or what the call was.  And so, I won 2 big matches, on one-point penalties, and became the first All American for Rutgers in over 20 years. 

Deep down I knew something mysterious had happened and the fact that I was the only one who knew, made the events all the more profound.  In thinking back on these events, I recall that when Jesus did something miraculous, he would sometimes say to those involved, “Tell no one”. If I had to take a guess as to why, maybe it was because once we start trying to explain Something miraculous, we become not only increasingly ignorant, but arrogant and inflated. So, It is better to tell no one.

This is why those fish that seemingly find themselves on the end of my line are the most meaningful to me.  I know Something else is at work and I should probably tell no one.