Good day—Welcome to a bonus front-porch visit.
It may be the most-simple image in all the book of Revelation, but one of the most powerful.
It is a not a picture of the mighty throne of God with its sea of glass before it and a brilliant rainbow surrounding it. Nor is it one of the grotesque images we come to further into the great book of a great red dragon.
No, this image depicts simplicity in its purest form. It is Jesus, standing at the door of man’s heart imploring him to come. But it says more than perhaps any image could of the love of God and the grace of His crucified Son. The songwriter of old captured it well with that immortal question, “Who at my door is standing?” It is a question we answer every day.
John records its simplicity at the end of Revelation’s third chapter: “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” (v. 20).
I never read those words without thinking of an image I saw often when I was just a young boy. In one of our old Bibles we read in at night in our simple Juniper Street Georgia home, the picture welcomed the reader at the opening of the book. I remember the image it as if I were holding the old Bible in my hands today: Jesus, standing on some obscure porch, the light of His presence shining brightly all around. That light shined upon a closed door – and a small, rusted, iron-grill up high on the door revealed the darkness within. Around the porch – and I do not remember noticing this scene before – are rank weeds and plants growing all around.
The beauty of the scene is that these thorny vines and weeds, the closed door, nor the bitter darkness within keep the Master away. For this door – as we well know – stands for the heart of every soul, every man – regardless of race, creed, age, or condition. A man cannot move to a wretched part of the life but that the Lord can and will find that door. Where there is a glimmer of light, a bit of hope, He comes.
But He not only comes, He comes and stands. He comes to stay—not to knock and quickly hurry off, as we may do—and He is always ready and willing to enter into that closed door and bring with Him the light of life and the heavenly glories that only He can bring.
He comes, stands, knocks, implores.
I cannot help but think that His knocking symbolizes every method that both heaven and earth have within their power to convince a lost prodigal to return home. It is the knocking of God’s providence – every blessing and every defeat life brings is designed to bring us to our own closed door and open it for the Lord to come in.
“The Spirit and the bride say come,” writes John, and Matthew records Jesus' words, “Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy ladened …”
Perhaps the most vivid image I have from seeing that picture each time I opened up that old Bible as a boy is that on the outside of that door there was no knob for opening. The Lord cannot open the door from the outside, and to pry it open He will not do.
He stands at the door and knocks – and we must open. Christian and sinners alike: We must open that door and keep it open for the Lord to come in to take his abode with us and dwell with us far down in the deepest recesses of our hearts, lives, and minds.
More than half a century has passed since I first saw that picture, and I do not know that I have even seen it again since. But I found it just the other day, and I was pleased – but not amazed – at what I saw:
There was Jesus, still standing – just as before – knocking at the door.
April 3, 2019
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