“I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.” Rev. 3:20
Lord Jesus, it’s not like you’re lonely, cold, or need our permission to enter any door. As unlikely as it may seem to us, you actually desire to fellowship with us—to deepen the bonds of friendship with us. Thank you.
It’s different for each of us, so help us see our personal “slippery-slope” away from unrushed, heart-connecting time with you, Jesus. As I’ve reflected on this with you, you’ve shown me my patterns. Thank you. I don’t feel indicted, but invited—not scorned, but sought.
Jesus, thank you for showing me how I equate thinking about you with rich fellowship with you. Instead of a grace-saturated dialogue with you, I drift into a monologue filled with verses and good theology. You’ve also shown me how I passively indulge irritation and fear—which I try to micro-manage like a Fatherless spiritual orphan. Lastly (not exhaustively), you’ve shown me how allergic I am to quiet; and that unless I resist it, I will live busy-hearted and rushed in spirit. Because of the Gospel, I feel loved, not condemned about these things.
Though you could kick down the door, climb in through a window, come in through the “crawl space,” or light a fire in the basement… you knock on the portal of our hearts each day. Daily mercies, Gospel-manna, living water, your very loving, joyful self… that’s what you give us, Jesus. Thank you… and So Very Amen.