Answer the door!

Revelation 3:20 – “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.”

At our apartment in this city, we have only one front door to go in and out. There’s no back entrance or even a fire escape. There’s just the one door.

And in that door, there is no peep hole – you know the little hole in the door that allows you to look through and see who’s on the other side.

So if we hear a knock at the door, we cannot know who is on the other side. We must open the door to see who is waiting there.

Sometimes we open the door to see good friends. Often there are people selling things or bringing by our bills. Sometimes we hear a knock at the door and it’s just not a convenient time so we don’t open it at all.

My favorite time is on Monday nights when our friends who come to our weekly Good Book study group come walking in. They have learned not to knock. They just come straight in (like family would) and I absolutely love that! Actually when we hear someone knocking at the door on Monday nights, we automatically know it’s someone new or a visitor because our “regulars” never knock.

Anyway… I’ve been thinking a lot lately about open doors.

Open doors represent access.

Closed doors, well, they’re the opposite. I guess.

There’s an area near where we live where I’ve been “working” lately. It’s kinda become a habit: exploring an area, talking to the people I come across, trying to turn the conversation into something that opens the door for me to talk about Father.

Well, I had been having good response in this one neighborhood (so I thought.) The people there had become accustomed to seeing me regularly come through their village. We would talk and play together with their children. I would tell them “stories” from the Good Book and sometimes they asked questions. Often they would simply smile and say they had to leave.

I understand when that happens. It doesn’t hurt my feelings.

I know the things I’m telling them rock their world.

These “stories” go completely against everything they’ve ever been told and how they’ve been taught to “believe.”

But I keep trying because I think maybe Father may stir in someone’s soul and open their heart to understand.

There was a period of about two weeks when I was unable to go to this particular neighborhood. Travel and other obligations got in the way as it often happens.

So yesterday was the first day I had the opportunity to return to this area and I was excited to see what I would find.

Would the people be happy to see me?

Maybe they’ve been thinking about the stories I told them and they have questions.

It was with excited anticipation that I set out walking to this area.

As I was walking, I was listening with headphones to Kristian Stanfill’s “Forever Reign,” singing along, praying and praising as I went.

I had reached the dirt path that leads out to the neighborhood when a wiry, middle-aged man approached me. He was just standing in the middle of the road, as if he were waiting on me.

“The gate is closed,” he said. “You may not go through.”

There is an iron gate between high, cement walls that separates the neighborhood I was going to from the area where I live, but in the past, the gate has always been open. The people who live in the neighborhood frequently come and go through the gate to go about their daily tasks, yet now the gate was boarded up in such a way that one couldn’t even see through with a large iron padlock keeping it closed.

“Why is it locked?” I asked the man.

“You can’t go through anymore,” was his reply.

I was speaking his language, so I knew he understood my question.

“Ok. Ok. No problem,” I said, trying to instill calmness through the building tension, and I turned around and began walking back.

Inside, my stomach sank.

Closed doors.

No access.

Lost opportunities.

I was feeling down.

I began walking around aimlessly.

It was in this mindset that I stumbled upon another “neighborhood” where I found a hoard of children outside playing.

School is now closed for their summer break here, and so the area children were enjoying the coolness of the morning to play some kind of game, tossing around a wooden ball.

I chatted briefly with some of the young women who were sitting around the edges watching the kids while doing simple chores. And while I was happy to find a new neighborhood that didn’t appear to have any gates blocking access, I was still thinking of my other friends and trying to figure out how to get back there.

That’s when I remembered there was another way!

There’s a hospital nearby (on the other side of the village) that’s doing some construction. They also have put up barriers to keep nosy people (like me) from coming in but often because of all the dump trucks that are coming and going they leave one gate open. I happened upon it recently in another one of my exploring ventures.

It’s quite a long way to get there, but it was worth a try.

I stayed on the main roads, walking the distance until I came upon the sandy, dusty path for the construction vehicles.

One of the good things about being a foreigner here is that often people don’t ask us questions. They think we won’t understand their language or they think we’re simply lost, so while they watch us closely, we are able to continue on.

And so I did.

Much to my delight, when I arrived at the gate, I found it open. Actually a big truck was coming through the gate just as I arrived.

I had to cover my face with my shirt sleeve to keep from inhaling all the grit being kicked up behind the truck, but I was able to enter.

Finally, I was able to get to the area where my friends lived.

The kids were happy to see me.

The parents didn’t have much to say, but it didn’t bother me. I was just so happy to have found a way in. I think they were a little surprised to see I was there.

This is a view of our apartment building from the neighborhood nearby.

Nothing great happened from the experience.

I didn’t find anyone there any more “open” then before.

If there was any small victory it was purely in the fact that I was able to get in.

Long after I had returned home, washed off the sweat and dirt from the day and was relaxing in my chair with a cup of coffee, this passage of scripture was still ringing in my mind as it had been all day long.

“I stand at the door and knock.”

For so many who are lost, Father is there knocking on the door to their hearts.

To me, the passage implies that He continues to knock and He continues to wait for those who would open the door to Him.

Don’t you know, heaven is just on the other side of that door?!?

As we follow His leading, we will continue to seek out those who need to hear the Message, but we need your prayers!

Prayers for fortitude.

Prayers for perseverance.

Prayers for wisdom and discernment.

Most importantly, pray that the lost will open the door to Him who stands there and knocks. Eternal and abundant life are waiting there.

Answer the door!