When Jesus first started knocking at the door I didn’t know it. The house is a busy place; kids running through with their little friends, the TV on almost all the time, the hum of the washer, dryer, dishwasher, microwave — you know what I mean.
But one day there it was, a friendly knock at the front door. Not demanding, not wimpy, just friendly. And I would have gone over to answer the door, but right then I heard, “You’ve got mail!” so I ran into the bedroom to see what had come up on the computer. Pretty soon, I’d forgotten all about the knocking, and hurried to the kitchen to see what to thaw for dinner.
A few days later the knocking got my attention and I did go to the door. I was stunned to see Jesus standing there. “My goodness. Oh, I mean, Good Lord! Please come in. Yes, do come in.”
He radiated such love that I could hardly take my eyes from Him. We walked into the living room.
Where do you seat a Heavenly visitor? Certainly not in the Lazy Boy recliner. The kids were bouncing on the couch, watching TV; the cat was asleep on the green velvet rocking chair.
My mind running in 29 directions, I led the way to the dining room and motioned for Him to sit at the table, facing away from the view of the pans piled in the kitchen sink. I began weakly, “What a surprise to find You at my door.”
He smiled and asked how things had been going. He nodded understandingly as I ran through a brief outline of my day’s activities.
There was a slight pause, and before I knew it I heard myself saying, “Oh, I’ve wondered. Were you sprinkled or immersed, when John the Baptist baptized You?” Again, He smiled and the explanation soothed my curiosity. Then I blurted out, “And I’ve wanted to know about that Last Supper. Was it real wine? Is that how we’re supposed to do it, too?”
Jesus didn’t take offense, nor did He hurry me on past my questions. To my wonder, we soon were chatting, carrying on like friends.
The buzzer on the oven startled me. Good grief. I had a meal to finish preparing. But what about Him? He must have seen the question on my face.
“May I stay?” He asked.
Imagine that! Jesus wanted to stay in MY house and visit with ME. He nodded towards the living room and then towards the kitchen, to acknowledge that I had duties to attend to. After that, I don’t know where the evening went.
He was sitting in that same chair when I came out to start the morning’s coffee. So that was the beginning of Jesus staying at my house.
Once in awhile, when I could squeeze some time from my busy, demanding schedule I sat down and we talked for a few minutes. I gave the run down of my day, ask for His blessing on each family member, ask His blessing for good health, good weather, etc. Then it was off I go to work, school, store, etc.
One evening as I carried in a briefcase of work to be done on the home computer He called my name. “Oh, things were terrible today,” I began. But then I looked into His eyes, so full of love. “No. I don’t want to talk about me. Lord, just You talk to me.”
I sat down and He placed His hands over mine on the table. Again, I lost all track of time. Tears edged around my eyes as I realized what a treasure I had been missing. Sitting there beside Jesus, I felt so contented, so satisfied.
“Lord, I’m worn out, being myself, being busy. Just You talk to me.”
“You’ve found an important truth. Sit here beside Me and rest.”
Oh, the wonderful things He told me, once I’d settled down from my frantic agenda. With the Bible open there on the table between us He showed me things I’d never seen before.
And now? you ask. He’s in my life, every day and for always. Jesus is so real that it’s no sacrifice for me to sit down beside Him, talk, and listen, and feel the warmth of His love. It’s amazing, but that’s how it is when you invite Him to stay when Jesus makes a house call.
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“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me.” (Revelation 3:20).
By Elaine Hardt ©2002