As soon as I pushed on the front door I knew something had changed. Gone was the familiar creak and the rubbing on the floor that required you to make a little extra effort half-way through the opening. I could only come to the uncomfortable conclusion that someone had repaired it.
It was uncomfortable because I knew Ox would never have let that happen. He was unswervingly dogmatic about keeping the door just the way it was.
“There should be at least some small effort required to enter the house of God.” He would say. “We’ve made it too easy for people to just walk in without even thinking about what they’re doing. And the creak lets everyone inside know that there’s someone at the door in need of a handshake.”
Yeah, something was definitely wrong.