The threshold of a church used to be as close as I dared go to one, safely. There was no proof that anything negative would occur were I to cross the threshold. Yet, I would wander around outside, visit with the wedding party, tug at my tie, and generally look uncomfortable until someone finally said, "We better go find a seat," at which point my hands would go clammy and my mouth would go dry. I would try my best to wait until the last minute before slowly approaching the front doors. I would stop with my toes on the line separating concrete walkway from the tiled foyer, and look down at that threshold as I took a tentative step across, squeezing my eyes shut before I placed one heel down on tile; waiting for my well-deserved lightning flash followed the fully expected and resounding explosion of thunder. If nothing happened, I would then dare to bring the other foot forth. My sins were forgivable, but I still had a fear of being smitten by the Mighty Smiter. My fears were driven by blind faith in the wrath of a God handed down, in a culture of Catholicism, from when I was a child.
Many of us have similar thresholds we fear to cross. To read more about this post, please follow the attached link: Spiritual Threshold
