There was a hymn in the old church called "Keys are given to the Christians" and was sung to the tune of "Come thou fount of every blessing." The keys were the testimony of sins forgiven--when one received that according to the song one could unlock the door of heaven.
However I seemed to keep losing mine. From what was preached it seemed like every so often one needed to go and get another set.
It seemed that the keys had been "in use and practice" in the apostolic times and were continually used throughout history--sometimes by a very small group of believers. It was something that had to be passed from believer to believer not something a person could receive directly from the Holy Spirit. It had to come through some one who had the holy spirit. When the bible speaks of "laying on of hands" in Acts, the OALC teaching interprets this to mean testifying of sins forgiven.
There has always been a mediator between God and man, I was told. So I thought it was necessary. However the bible states that Jesus is the mediator. "There is only one mediator between God and mad, that is the man Christ Jesus."
It has been ten years since I have attended the church and some of the teachings have changed. One new teaching that emerged in the 1990s is this idea of the three testimonies--a person must have the testimony of their own heart, the testimony of the other believers, and the testimony of the holy spirit ( I think that was right) I don't know how that fits in with the keys metaphor. Maybe God has three deadbolts on his door now.
Anyway the preachers used to berate us for not being known to the other Christians because this made it terribly difficult for the preachers to preach at your funeral. (They might accidentally say you had gone to heaven and then find out to their embarrassment and shame that they were wrong entirely.) Note: the responsibility for making yourself known was entirely put on the individual. For a timid person in a congregation of several thousand this was kind of overwhelming. The preachers weren't very accessible. And if you did get up enough courage to approach them, the first thing he always said to me was "And what was your name?"
Don't you love that personal touch? Just gave you an overwhelming desire to pour out you heart because you knew how much he cared
It always caused me shame to be so unknown. I wanted to belong terribly. Yet no matter what someone was always inquiring about my "pedigree." It was an unspoken caste system, it seemed to me. I wouldn't have minded so much if I hadn't been on the bottom!
