"I Stand By the Door"

An old poem by Sam Shoemaker formed a part of my morning message today....

Eris, the Goddess of Strife, Discord, and Chaos inflamed in the Bunker

Today, I had volunteered to speak at my home group’s meeting on Zoom. I’d last done this face-to-face on July 19 and then taken a 165-day stint in which I attended no meetings of the fellowship of the recovery program in which I have been engaged, off-and-on over the past forty-plus years - unless invited to speak which happened three times during that stint. Who cares? Well, I do. There’s reason behind my actions.

I wrapped up my part of the meeting by referencing this poem by Sam Shoemaker.

“I STAND BY THE DOOR¹

I stand by the door. I neither go to far in, nor stay to far out.
The door is the most important door in the world – It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There is no use my going way inside and staying there,
When so many are still outside and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where the door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it.
So I stand by the door.

The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for men to find that door – the door to God.
The most important thing that any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands
And put it on the latch – the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man’s own touch.

Men die outside the door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter.
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live on the other side of it – live because they have not found it.

Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him.
So I stand by the door.

Go in great saints; go all the way in –
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics.
It is a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in.
Sometimes venture in a little farther,
But my place seems closer to the opening.
So I stand by the door.

There is another reason why I stand there.
Some people get part way in and become afraid
Lest God and the zeal of His house devour them;
For God is so very great and asks all of us.
And these people feel a cosmic claustrophobia
And want to get out. ‘Let me out!’ they cry.
And the people way inside only terrify them more.
Somebody must be by the door to tell them that they are spoiled.
For the old life, they have seen too much:
One taste of God and nothing but God will do any more.
Somebody must be watching for the frightened
Who seek to sneak out just where they came in,
To tell them how much better it is inside.
The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving – preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door
But would like to run away. So for them too,
I stand by the door.

I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not yet even found the door.
Or the people who want to run away again from God.
You can go in too deeply and stay in too long
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him and know He is there,
But not so far from men as not to hear them,
And remember they are there too.

Where? Outside the door –
Thousands of them. Millions of them.
But – more important for me –
One of them, two of them, ten of them.
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch.
So I shall stand by the door and wait
For those who seek it.

I had rather be a door-keeper
So I stand by the door.

I asked the people to talk about what results they were getting in their lives from their practice of our fellowship’s program’s principles in all their affairs….and some did share about these matters. However, a few decided to make their commentary on me as a personality. After one such share took the form of what was essentially "a roast” appropriate for a Shriner’s dinner, I gently suggested to the group that they focus not on personalities but on the question of what results we are getting from our practice.

I was told privately by the “roaster” that I should let go of my need for control. I was, needless to say, not amused. However, as I just finished processing my outrage, restraining my anima, Eris, here in the bunker, I sent this person the following:

Forgiveness is a very important part of the spiritual practice. The link above has many gifts embedded within it. I hope many of you will take the time to view them.

Now, lest someone think this is all about me, it’s not. It’s about how our group must have appeared to anyone of the people who were there for the first time, some of whom I had personally invited to be among us. It was pointed out to me by one of my fellow long-time members that he might have felt differently about it if he had “been in the line of fire.” That it took some conversation for him to arrive at the insight was telling.

The numbers of people who come into our midst is great - those who stay are relatively low - and there is a reason for that, in my estimation. It is that we don’t think about these principles that we have forged out over long years of experience. Many, if not most, of us have never heard of Sam Shoemaker or know anything about what he did to insure that we got off on the right foot. Let Bill W, who died 55 years ago today, tell you about it - and listen to Sam speaking for himself.

It’s really not about me, what I am writing here. It’s about what the newcomer to our midst would take away from witnessing a speaker roasted by another member - no matter how good-natured the ribbing might have been intended. I did not find it good-natured. I found it flatly offensive.

To this person’s credit, after the meeting, he reached out to own his wrong - and suggested that he intended to make a direct amend. Mending is not possible once the damage is done, however. Too often people make amends AT someone they have wronged, saying that they have cleaned up their side of the street. No, they have pushed their garbage onto the side of the street of the person they have offended.

I wrote something about this with some prescient links last August 3:

So it goes. I could go on and often do. I highly recommend that if any of you happen to be a part of the fellowship that follows this program of recovery, take into consideration what we can do for the individuals who are still out there suffereing from this condition. Onward!

1. https://gugogs.org/2025/09/16/i-stand-at-the-door-recovery-poem-by-sam-shoemaker-who-bill-w-describes-as-a-co-founder-of-aa/