There’s a Knocking at the Door

The Sunday school room in my childhood church had a picture of Jesus knocking at a door. It hung straight ahead as you walked in. I loved it–a familiar sight in a familiar place. The picture also fascinated me. There was a luminescence about Him, a holy glow. A heavy wooden door stood shut as He stood at the threshold and knocked. It’s a quintessential rendering of Jesus’ loving patience.

As many times as I had seen this picture in my youth (or some version of it throughout my life) I hadn’t thought about it in a long time. My paternal grandfather spent a lot of his time sharing verses and stories from the Bible with me. The illustration from Revelation 3:20 one was one of his favorites.

“Jesus is knocking at the door of your heart. It is up to you to let Him in,” he’d tell me.

Then he would explain that in all the images of Jesus at the door, none of them depicted a handle on the outside. Sometimes the door hinges but never a handle. The door had to be opened from the inside. He reminded me that Jesus waits patiently for us to answer his knocking. He never pounds on the door or kicks it in. He just knocks and waits.

Pop’s spiritual lessons remain deep within my mind like buried treasure. Every now and again, they dislodge themselves from the dusty corners of my childhood memories and teach me afresh.

This morning in my devotions, Revelation 3:20 cropped up. The memory of my chats with Pop and the image of the painting of Jesus at the door came flooding back. They spoke to me in ways far more profoundly than they did 40+ years ago. Complete with soul-searching and tears.

I got to thinking about how often I allow the noise of the world and the frustrations of this life to drown out the gentle knocking of Jesus upon the door of my heart. I have too much to worry about and accomplish. Come back later, Jesus. I’m busy.

It grieves me to think about it. The childlike faith of days past has given way to overcomplicated self-sufficiency. Plus a few ofther things. Rebellion. Doubt. Stubbornness. I know full well I can’t do it alone, but I take the burden onto my shoulders anyway. Then I fret and murmur when I can’t do the things I was never meant to do without Him.

But the Bible does not mince words:

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” (Revelation 3:20, ESV)

As I spent time in prayer and reflecting on this today, a need for repentance and rush of gratitude overcame me. Thank God for Pop sowing seeds of wisdom that still flower after all these years. Thank God for the gentle patience of Jesus, who faithfully keeps knocking at our hearts out of love for us.

With Love and Gratitude,

6 thoughts on “There’s a Knocking at the Door

      1. Thank you daughter
        for your words. I
        remember that
        painting too from
        when I was a child
        and went to Central
        Baptist. It has more
        meaning to me now.
        I love you.

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