Knock Knock

“Knock Knock “ Colossians 3:12-14, Matthew 6:14-15 Growing up I recall a room on the second story of my grandparents’ house ― the dreaded “spare room.” I was not at all fond of this room. It was cold, musty and dusty. In this room she piled everything ― and I mean everything ― she felt she couldn’t live with OR without. I never liked to spend too much time in there. It was much worse for me at night. The darkness made everything in the corners take on sinister shadows where they would seemingly sneer at me all night long. On nights when the wind was howling, the tree branches would claw like long fingers scratching at the windows to get in and pluck me from my bed. Hiding under the blankets, I would vow to never have a room like this, much less put someone in it! Fast forward. I have a room like this now. It became a “spare/guest” room once my son moved out. For the most part, the room looks much the same. Same pictures, paint, bed, etc. Sadly, however, this room in the house is now where I put everything I need to sort through. New pictures to hang. Photo albums to go through. Projects to compete. Clothes that don’t fit anymore (but will someday?!) to sort. At Christmas the bed makes a great place to plop gifts to wrap and give. It’s looking a bit like my grandmother’s room (the one I vowed to never have, haha) EXCEPT, of course, when guests are due to arrive (thankfully, not often…), then I strip and clean the room. Everything gets stuffed in the closet out of sight. Until they leave! Then I drag it out. Everyone has an area like this, right? A place to toss things we don’t want to deal with right away. Out of sight, but never out of mind. Oh, we pass by this room quite a bit. Sometimes we stick our head in and look at the mess, then shut the door. The door to a room like this is rarely open. We hide this room from the sight of others. We don’t want others in there! Sometimes, however, we find ourselves in there. Maybe when nobody else is around. We go in with good intentions to organize and restore order but seldom accomplish that. Much of the time we drag more things in with us! Where else do we store things? Not just things, but items we can’t touch and see. What about emotions, thoughts? Where do we store hopes, dreams and desires? Joys, memories (good and not-sogood...) Our heart, of course. Just as the brain sorts the day’s activities and stores them, so too does our heart. Rooms, halls and walls of our heart. We visit and roam daily. So many. Some old and some new rooms we create. We tear down the bridges of the heart and put up walls as well. We have rooms of love and happiness. Large room of good memories. Rooms we fill with dreams. We absolutely love to fill these rooms and we enter often. We are more than happy to bring others in. We leave these doors wide open for all to enter. We have other rooms though. Darker rooms. Rooms of anger, resentment, shame and pain. Rooms of agony and torment. Despair and hopelessness. Fear. We tend to have more darker rooms than light. Very little light enters and we go in frequently with our baggage. When we do try to sort, we find we are overwhelmed. We cannot do it alone and we usually will not ask for help. We find ourselves in adjoining darker rooms when we enter just one. For instance, one can enter the room of darker memories and find themselves in the room of anger. Enter the room of guilt, and you most likely will find yourself in the room of even shame. Then pain. We don’t like to show these rooms to others. Cluttered rooms. Full rooms. Shadows and secrets. The lighter rooms seem distant. Once in these rooms we find it difficult to leave. It’s possible to be consumed in a room. To sink as in quicksand. Spending too much time in one room not only destroys oneself but others. Family, friends and relationships, as well as one’s physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health, decline and suffer. The room of hate is even worse. Toxic. Like a cancer it spreads and attempts to overtake all rooms and everyone. We must do our very best to avoid these dark rooms. As you can see, it can become easy to lose our way in the halls of our heart. We have all been lost at some point or other. It’s inevitable. On a recent stroll through the halls of my heart, I heard a distant knock from one of my closed doors. A knock from the inside. I knew it well for it has a very distinct sound. In fact, at some point we have all heard this same knock from this room. I had heard it many times over the past couple of years or more and chose to ignore and walk past. It had become easy for me to keep walking. I knew exactly which room this was. This day though, I paused outside the door. I noticed the heavy bolt and chains I placed around this door. I did this as this door is never locked. For anyone. God designed this room this way. The doorknob easily turns if one wants to go in. This is the case in every heart with this room. I had placed locks on it to ensure it kept one specific person in my life out. I vowed this person would never be allowed to enter. I control who I allow in this room with me. Entering requires we turn the knob ourselves. The room of forgiveness. I heard a voice say my name. Would it really hurt, I thought, to maybe just step in for a moment? To look around? Perhaps in doing so, the bothersome knocking would stop and leave me alone. Forever. I surveyed the locks and chains. No sense in trying, I thought. I touched the knob anyway just to see what it felt like. Upon doing so, the chains and locks fell to the floor. With barely any effort, the door opened. “Well, it’s about time,” said Jesus. “I’ve been waiting to meet you here.” Looking at Him, I wanted to stay but wanted to go. “I’m just not ready,” I told him. “Not yet.” “Janet, you are ready. This time you turned the knob. You didn’t walk past like times before. Let Me help you with this. It’s time,” He replied, stretching out His arms. I stepped inside. There were many windows with window seats in the room. Soft and airy. Sunlight streamed in making Jesus’ face shine even brighter. Oddly, I felt as though I could take in a deeper breath. I felt a bit lighter. For a moment time stood still as we just looked at each other. Suddenly, the wind picked up. A colder wind. Jesus rushed to my side and buried my face in His shoulder. He wrapped His arms tightly around me saying, “Hold on, Janet, this gets a little rough but I’ve got you.” The door and walls started to shake. The noise was deafening. The room was dark except for where we stood together. When it subsided, things were again as they were. I asked Him what had just happened. He went on to explain the storm in my heart was the result of the darker rooms beckoning me back to them. Especially the room of dark memories and pain. Even the room of hatred. Jesus said that each time one enters the room of forgiveness this will happen. The more we enter, however, the lesser the intensity and frequency of the storms. He promised as well to always meet me here when I entered. He would protect and shelter me. He promised as well I would be stronger each time I entered. I took a moment to look around. I noticed a door I had not noticed when I first walked in. “What’s in there?”I asked Jesus. “Let’s go take a look” He said. I went ahead and grasped the doorknob but it was locked. Jesus opened the door and we stepped in. The most incredible feeling of serenity and tranquility rushed through me right to my core. My being. My soul. I closed my eyes for a moment to take it all in. “I’ll be right back,” Jesus said. I’m not really sure how long I stood there with my eyes closed. All I knew is I didn’t want this feeling to escape. “Open your eyes, Janet.” Excitedly, I opened my eyes for my next surprise. Once opened, my smile quickly faded. I turned to go back to the room I just left. The door was again locked. I pounded on the door to open. “Janet,” Jesus softly said, “entering the room of peace requires first spending a great deal of time in the room of forgiveness. This is why the rooms are adjoining rooms. Forgiveness leads to peace. It’s the key that opens this door. One can find me in both rooms.” I stood motionless, absorbing everything. “Who is she?” I asked and leaned my head in the direction of a woman sitting at one of the window seats. “You know who she is, Janet. While you were in the room of peace, I brought her here. You had her stored away in the room of hatred. She, too, wants to enter the room of peace but cannot until she finds forgiveness from you. So she can also forgive herself.” “All right,” I said to Jesus. “She’s forgiven. Now let’s go back to the room of peace. Done.” His look let me know He was fully aware He was not buying into my insincerity. He went on to say forgiveness was much more than lip service. It is rather heartfelt and meaningful. He went on to say that one will truly know when they have reached full forgiveness of others for they enter the room of peace. He further explained that it doesn’t happen overnight. It takes walking into the room many times. It can take months or even years. He assured me I did not have to visit the room daily and short visits were okay. That it is never too late for one to start the journey. He promised He would meet me every single time. He told me the woman would remain on the bench now. Waiting for me to come in. That she cannot move on until I move on. I listened intently. “I think I would like to leave now if that’s okay with You, Jesus,” I whispered. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. “Yes,” Jesus replied, “but give Me just a minute.” I watched as He walked to the woman and wrapped His arms around her gently. She looked up at Him, and He wiped her tears. She smiled. At that moment, I fully understood that despite the terrible things she had done to my loved one, God loved her as much as He loved me. All because of Jesus. Jesus walked me to the door and gave me the same hug. The woman was watching. Our eyes locked. I gave her a small wave and she smiled a soft smile. We left the room. Jesus cautioned me to avoid the halls leading to the darker side of my heart. He told me if lost to look for a light, even a small one. He promised to be the bridge between the two very different sides of my heart. Always. “One last thing, Jesus, why do we even have these dark rooms?” “Because, my child,” He said, “they are manmade. My Father’s unique and intricate design for the heart, however, is that the rooms of light are built to grow and expand. Always changing. The Holy Spirit residing in these rooms is equipped to crowd out and eventually overtake the darker rooms. Once invited in, the Holy Spirit will not leave.” I pondered this all for a moment. Me, always having one more question, asked yet one more. “Why is the room of forgiveness so large? Bigger than the others even?” Jesus paused for a moment, looking at His nail-pierced hands. “Because this room had to be big enough to forgive the entire world.” Knock. Knock. God has been knocking on my heart for some time to forgive someone (and then talk about it!). When I wrote this initially, it seemed the entire message was focused more on the horrible events my loved one suffered than on a message of forgiveness. And for what? For me to say in the end, “Hey, everyone, look what happened and I forgave ... so you can too!” Thankfully, God let me know it was no good. (I would have appreciated a bit more notice as it was pointed out to me a day before I needed to submit it.) God’s timing, as always, is impeccable and not to be questioned. I have to say in writing this the second time, I knew it to be truly God-inspired and not Janet-inspired. It was hard. Raw. Brought back many memories. It was also cleansing in many ways. I would love to close by saying I am 100% there. But I am not! I also know, however, in writing this message that it is okay to not be there just yet. I am one step closer today than yesterday to that room of peace. I’m also not alone. Jesus occupies all rooms of the heart. Especially the room of forgiveness. I love this quote by Mark Twain, “Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” Forgiveness does not mean I must invite her to dinner every Sunday. Will she make it to my Christmas card list? Perhaps. Will I avoid her in a grocery aisle? Maybe to start. If you think that isn’t progress, I assure you it is for us to know I have spent time in the dark rooms rehearsing what I would say to her if I saw her again. (bad enough I did that once) Trust me, it wasn’t ladylike nor Christian. I’m a work-in-progress though. Human and imperfect. Flawed. But also learning and trying every day the best I can. This, I feel, is what God truly wants. A sincere effort. The rest will follow in time. For now she waits on the window seat looking outward, while I look inward in my room of forgiveness. Perhaps she is not in a place at all right now looking for or needing anything from me. And that’s fine. Perhaps (if she hasn’t already) she will heed the knock at the door of forgiveness also. And Jesus will be there waiting for her like He was for me. God placed upon my heart a few weeks ago to include her in my prayers. I have. The first prayer went something like this, “God, please help her to have a good day. Amen.” It was a start! I admit I don’t do it every day; and again, I feel, that is okay as Jesus helped me relocate her from a dark room to a room of healing. When we feel we cannot forgive, we should ask ourselves this question: Was this person’s offense more unforgivable than what the world did to Jesus? Can we try? When we fail (and we will at times), wouldn’t God want us to try again? Small steps. One day at a time. Maybe start with a prayer. Something. It’s time, especially in the world we live in today, to drop that stone we are so ready to throw at someone else, recalling from the Bible that it’s okay to throw the first stone. Go ahead. As long as you are sinless. There will always be someone in a dark room waiting for a seat in our room of forgiveness. Amen. janet