The Door Is Open

The Voice, the Threshold, and the Abundance of Being Known

“The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it in abundance [to the full, till it overflows].”

— John 10:10 AMP

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The Three Tens

Sometimes I wonder who is responsible for selecting the verse of the day on the Bible app. Is there someone sitting with a calendar, thoughtfully choosing passages months in advance? Do they consider the significance of particular dates? Or is there an entirely different process behind it?

I ask because today is October 10.

Ten-ten.

And when I opened my Bible app this morning, the Scripture waiting for me was John 10:10.

Naturally, I wondered whether someone had deliberately matched the reference to the date.

But then another detail caught my attention.

Written numerically, today is 10/10/2026. Add the digits of the year—2 + 0 + 2 + 6—and you arrive at another ten.

10 · 10 · 10

Three tens.

And those of you who have followed my writings know that I do not believe in coincidence.

I love how Holy Spirit can use something seemingly ordinary to invite us into an extraordinary discovery. Something that initially captures our curiosity becomes the very doorway through which a much deeper revelation begins to unfold.

So I began investigating.

And what started with three tens eventually brought me to a Shepherd, an open Door, and a pair of hands from which no one can snatch us away.

But before I could understand the significance of John 10:10, I discovered something remarkable.

The conversation didn’t actually begin in John 10.

It began with a man who had been cast out.

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Cast Out, Yet Found

In John 9, Yeshua heals a man who had been blind from birth.

Imagine that for a moment.

An entire lifetime without sight, and suddenly the world is visible.

Faces. Movement. Light.

Everything that had existed around him all along was now something he could experience for himself.

Surely this would have been a reason for everyone to rejoice.

But instead, the religious authorities begin interrogating him. They question the miracle, his parents, and his testimony until they eventually cast him out.

And then John tells us something I find almost unbearably beautiful.

Yeshua hears that they have cast the man out, and He finds him.

The very people entrusted with helping others recognize God have rejected a man whose life God has just transformed.

But Yeshua goes looking for him.

And the significance of what happens next becomes even more extraordinary when we examine the original Greek.

In John 9:34, when the authorities cast the man out, John uses a form of the Greek verb ekballō, meaning to cast or put out.

Then, in John 10:4, when Yeshua describes the shepherd bringing his sheep out, John uses that same verb.

Ekballō.

One casts him out in rejection.

The other brings His sheep out to lead them.

One casts him out because they do not want him. The other brings His sheep out because they belong to Him.

And I wonder how often we have allowed the pain of being rejected to become the defining interpretation of what happened to us.

How easily can the opinion of someone who no longer wants us convince us that we are no longer wanted?

Yet here stands a man whose rejection by religious authorities becomes the setting in which Yeshua personally seeks him out.

The people who refused to recognize what God had done in his life did not possess the authority to determine his place with God.

And then, in John 10:3, Yeshua begins describing the Shepherd who calls His own sheep by name.

By name.

I had to sit with that.

Because He doesn’t begin by telling us how impressively the sheep recognize the Shepherd.

He begins with the Shepherd knowing the sheep.

Before the sheep follow, they are known.

Before they demonstrate their ability to distinguish His voice from every competing sound, He already knows whom He is calling.

Doesn’t that bring us back to Isaiah 43:1, where God declares that He has redeemed His people, called them by name, and claimed them as His own?

And Exodus 33:17, where God tells Moses that He knows him by name?

There’s something profoundly intimate about being known in a world where we spend so much of our lives trying to establish who we are.

We build identities around our accomplishments, our relationships, our failures, our experiences, and what we hope to become.

Yet Yeshua describes a Shepherd whose relationship with His sheep begins with knowing them.

Not their résumé.

Not their usefulness.

Not simply their existence as part of a flock.

Their names.

And notice what happens when He calls them.

He goes ahead.

He doesn’t remain behind while sending them into unfamiliar territory.

He leads from the front.

We often imagine divine guidance as receiving a complete set of instructions, preferably with every possible complication addressed before we take the first step.

But Yeshua describes something far more intimate.

A familiar voice.

A Shepherd who knows us.

And a relationship in which following becomes possible because we trust the One who is already ahead.

And there’s an even older promise echoing through His words.

In Ezekiel 34, God confronts the shepherds of Israel because they have cared for themselves rather than His flock. They have neglected the weak, the injured, and the lost.

Then God declares that He Himself will search for His sheep, gather them, feed them, and give them rest. He also promises a shepherd from David’s line.

Now consider what we’re witnessing.

A man has been rejected by religious leaders after receiving his sight.

Yeshua finds him.

And then Yeshua begins describing the true Shepherd who knows His sheep and leads them.

The God who promised to seek His sheep is revealing His care through the Messiah standing among them.

But then Yeshua introduces something unexpected.

He doesn’t simply identify Himself as the Shepherd.

He calls Himself the Door.

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The Door Is Not a Prison

In John 10:7, Yeshua declares:

“I am the Door for the sheep.”

And in verse 9, He repeats it.

“I am the Door…”

Twice.

But why a door?

Why does the Shepherd suddenly identify Himself as the entrance?

In the ancient world, sheepfolds were often enclosed spaces where sheep could be gathered and protected. The opening governed access and allowed the flock to move between shelter and pasture.

And that opening establishes something we rarely stop to consider.

A threshold.

A door separates one space from another. It can restrict access, but it can also make access possible.

And when it opens, what was previously inaccessible becomes accessible.

Now listen to Yeshua’s words in Greek:

Egō eimi hē thyra.

I am the Door.

The words egō eimi mean “I am,” and thyra means door, gate, or entrance.

Throughout John’s Gospel, Yeshua repeatedly uses these declarations to reveal something essential about Himself.

He is the Bread of Life.

The Light of the World.

The Resurrection and the Life.

The Way, the Truth, and the Life.

And here, the Door.

Do you notice what these declarations have in common?

He doesn’t merely tell us where bread can be found.

He is the Bread.

He doesn’t simply explain where light originates.

He is the Light.

He doesn’t merely provide directions toward resurrection.

He is the Resurrection and the Life.

And He doesn’t simply point us toward an entrance.

He is the entrance.

The Giver and the Gift are inseparable.

Which raises an extraordinary question.

If Yeshua is the Door, what are we actually entering into?

The sheepfold imagery speaks of salvation, security, and pasture.

But John’s Gospel takes us deeper because Yeshua later declares that no one comes to the Father except through Him.

And I find myself thinking about the tabernacle.

The entrances into its sacred spaces and the veil separating the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place communicated something profound about holiness and access to God’s presence.

Then Hebrews 10:19–20 speaks of the new and living way opened through Yeshua.

What was once approached through restricted sacred access is now opened to us through the Messiah.

And perhaps we’ve been imagining the Door primarily as an entrance to blessings when the greatest wonder is that He brings us into relationship with the Father Himself.

But there’s another detail in John 10:9 that caught my attention.

Yeshua says those who enter through Him will be saved, go in and out, and find pasture.

Go in and out?

Why would He say that?

If safety is inside, shouldn’t the sheep remain there?

And if nourishment is outside, why would they return?

But that’s precisely the beauty of the image.

The sheepfold provides protection.

The pasture provides nourishment.

And the Shepherd’s care makes their movement possible.

They aren’t being led into permanent confinement. They’re being led into life.

And the phrase has a beautiful biblical resonance.

In Numbers 27:16–17, Moses asks God to appoint a leader who will go out and come in before the people so they won’t be like sheep without a shepherd.

Psalm 121:8 speaks of the Lord guarding our going out and coming in.

And now Yeshua declares that through Him, His sheep will go in and out and find pasture.

The Shepherd goes ahead.

God guards their movement.

And the sheep discover that their security isn’t ultimately the walls surrounding them.

It’s the Shepherd who cares for them.

I wonder how often we confuse feeling safe with remaining somewhere familiar.

How often do we ask God to make the enclosure more comfortable while He’s calling us toward pasture?

And what if abundant life isn’t the elimination of everything unfamiliar, but the discovery that His presence isn’t limited to the places we already know?

The Door isn’t a prison.

And the doorway isn’t the end of the journey.

It’s where the movement begins.

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The Life He Came to Give

Now we arrive at John 10:10.

“The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy.”

Three destructive actions.

Steal.

Kill.

Destroy.

In Greek, Yeshua uses hina, introducing the purpose behind the thief’s coming.

But then comes the extraordinary contrast.

“I came that they may have life…”

Notice those words.

I came.

The Greek verb is ēlthon, an aorist form of erchomai, meaning “I came.”

Yeshua isn’t merely announcing something He intends to do someday.

He has come.

And He’s revealing why.

But the distinction becomes even more remarkable when we examine the word translated life.

In John 10:10, Yeshua uses the Greek word zōē.

Throughout John’s Gospel, zōē repeatedly describes the life that comes from God, including eternal life.

Then, in verse 11, Yeshua reveals the extraordinary cost of making that life available.

“The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep.” — John 10:11 NKJV

But here John uses another Greek word.

Psychē.

A word that can refer to one’s life or self, including the life someone willingly surrenders in death.

And I find the relationship between these words astonishing.

He came to give us zōē.

And He lays down His own psychē for us.

The thief comes to take life from the sheep.

The Shepherd willingly gives His own life so the sheep may live.

And suddenly, abundance is no longer a vague promise of having more.

It’s the extraordinary gift of divine life, made available through self-giving love.

Which makes me wonder whether we’ve been measuring abundance by the wrong things.

I don’t know about you, but when people hear abundance, our minds can move rather quickly toward finances.

And money matters.

It pays bills, feeds families, makes generosity possible, and provides resources to accomplish things that require them.

But people who have no relationship with God can possess enormous wealth.

So clearly, money alone cannot be the extraordinary life Yeshua uniquely came to give.

Money is a resource. It is not our source.

And there are things even extraordinary wealth cannot guarantee.

Peace that remains when circumstances are unsettled.

Joy that isn’t entirely dependent on what happened that morning.

Love that changes how we understand ourselves and others.

The freedom of being known without having to earn our belonging.

Psalm 16:11 speaks of fullness of joy in God’s presence.

And in John 17:3, Yeshua describes eternal life in terms of knowing the only true God and the One He sent.

There it is.

Eternal life isn’t merely existence that continues indefinitely.

It’s life inseparably connected to knowing God through His Son.

And in Luke 12:32, Yeshua says something almost too tender to comprehend.

The Father gladly gives the kingdom to His little flock.

Not merely an allowance.

The kingdom.

What a magnificently generous Father we have.

And yet, His greatest generosity isn’t measured solely by what He places into our hands.

It’s revealed in the life He makes possible through His Son.

What if we’ve spent so much time asking God to give us an abundant life that we’ve overlooked the abundance of the life He’s already invited us into?

Not because we should stop asking Him for provision, healing, justice, or restoration.

But because none of those things can replace the One from whom our life comes.

And as I continued reading John 10, I discovered that Yeshua was about to bring this entire revelation back to something I’d encountered at the very beginning.

A hand.

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The Hands of the Shepherd

Near the end of John 10, Yeshua returns to the relationship between the Shepherd and His sheep.

In verses 27–28, He declares:

“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand.” — NKJV

There it is again.

The voice.

Being known.

Following.

Eternal life.

But now He adds something extraordinary.

His hand.

And in verse 29, He declares that no one can snatch His sheep from the Father’s hand.

Then, in verse 30, He makes an astonishing declaration:

“I and the Father are One.”

His hand.

The Father’s hand.

Their unity.

And I had to sit with that.

Because the conversation began with a Shepherd who calls His sheep by name.

But now we discover something even more intimate.

The sheep aren’t merely called. They’re held.

And suddenly, I remembered those three tens.

10 · 10 · 10.

The very thing that had first captured my attention.

So I returned to the Hebrew alphabet, its numerical values, and the ancient imagery associated with its letters.

And that’s when I discovered something fascinating.

The tenth letter of the Hebrew alphabet is Yod (י).

Its numerical value is ten.

And its ancient pictographic ancestry is associated with the image of a hand.

A hand.

Now remember where John 10 has brought us.

Yeshua’s hand.

The Father’s hand.

And the declaration that He and the Father are One.

But my curiosity didn’t stop there.

Three Yods, each carrying the numerical value of ten, total thirty.

And thirty is the numerical value of another Hebrew letter.

Lamed (ל).

Its ancient pictographic ancestry is commonly associated with a goad or staff.

י + י + י = ל

10 + 10 + 10 = 30

A hand.

A staff.

A Shepherd.

And isn’t it extraordinary how one discovery can lead us into another?

I began the morning wondering about three tens.

And somehow, following that curiosity through John 10 brought me to the hands of the Shepherd.

The hands of the One who calls us by name.

The One who is Himself the Door.

The One who lays down His life so we may receive the abundance of His.

And the One who declares that no one can snatch us from His hand or the Father’s.

Think about the extraordinary intimacy of that.

We are known before we know how to follow.

We’re invited through the One who has already gone before us.

We’re offered life by the very Shepherd who willingly lays down His own.

And when we wonder what awaits us beyond the familiar, He reminds us whose hands we’re in.

What could possibly be more abundant than a life rooted in that kind of love?

I had begun by wondering what significance there might be in the numbers.

But I ended by contemplating something far more extraordinary.

The greatest abundance isn’t merely what becomes available when the Door opens. It’s the life we discover in the One who is the Door.

And perhaps that’s the invitation before us.

Not simply to ask what waits on the other side of the threshold, but to recognize whose voice is calling us through it.

Because the One who calls is the One who leads.

The One who leads is the Door.

The One who is the Door is the Shepherd who gives His life.

And the One who gives His life is the One whose hand holds us securely.

He isn’t merely offering us directions toward something wonderful.

He is the wonder.

And we don’t have to know everything waiting beyond the threshold to trust the One who stands before it.

We don’t have to manufacture our own abundance when we’ve been invited into the life that flows from Him.

And we don’t have to wonder whether we’re known when the Shepherd Himself calls us by name.

The Door is open.

And the Shepherd is calling us by name.

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I Hear the Spirit Say…

“Beloved, how long have you stood before Me wondering whether you have heard My voice correctly, when all along I have been calling you by name?

You have searched for confirmation in circumstances, in open doors, in the words of others, and in the things you hoped would finally change.

But My child, have you considered that the greatest confirmation of My love is not what I place in your hands, but that you are already held in Mine?

I know the places where you have felt shut out. I know the doors that closed without explanation, the people who could no longer see your worth, and the moments when you wondered whether being left outside meant you no longer belonged.

But no one who has rejected you has the authority to determine your place with Me.

You have asked Me to open doors, and there are times I have answered by drawing you closer to Myself.

You have asked Me to show you the way, while I have been teaching you to recognize the sound of My voice.

And you have asked Me for a life overflowing with My goodness, not realizing how much of that goodness I have already been pouring into the places within you that once felt empty.

Do not mistake what has not yet appeared for what has not been given.

There are places I am leading you that your fear cannot imagine, and freedoms you will discover only when you stop believing that the walls around you are what keep you safe.

My child, you do not have to know everything waiting beyond the threshold. You only need to know the One who is going before you.

And when you wonder whether you are ready, remember this: I did not begin calling you when you became capable of following Me perfectly.

I knew your name before you ever recognized My voice.

So come closer.

There is more of My heart for you to discover, more of My love for you to receive, and more of this life for us to walk through together.

You have spent so long looking toward the other side of the Door, wondering what might finally be waiting there.

But beloved, I am not merely the One who opens the way before you.

I am the One who will be with you when you walk through it.

The Door is open, My child.

And I am still calling your name.

So come, walk with Me. There is so much more I want to show you.”