Jesus: a rude houseguest?

Revelation 3:20 tells us that Jesus “stands at the door [of our hearts] and knocks.  If anyone hears [his] voice and opens the door, [he] will come in to him and sup with him.”  I’ve heard this passage preached a plethora of times, usually coming about three minutes before the altar call.  Just about every preacher I have heard quote and exegete this verse describes a patient, yet persistent Savior who wants to enter into relationship with us.  Jesus stands there knocking and waiting.  He is a patient gentleman.  He doesn’t pound his fist on the door, demanding we let him in.  Nor does he lower his shoulder and force his way in.  He just waits and knocks.

I have even heard descriptions of paintings inspired by this verse that depict a calm, long-suffering Jesus lightly tapping on the door.  A close observation of some of these paintings reveals that the door at which the Savior stands has no outside handle.  The door can only be opened from the inside, further testament to the idea that we must open the door and invite him in.  Jesus is truly a courteous caller.

Once we invite him inside, the verse tells us that Jesus will come in and dine with us.  There is something very personal, even intimate, about sharing a meal together.  It is not only a sharing of food, but a sharing of our lives together.  Of all things, Jesus chose a meal – communion – as the experience by which we remember his sacrificial death.

This verse from the third chapter of Revelation paints a beautiful picture of relationship with the Savior.  Jesus waits for the invitation into our hearts and lives, then shares with us one of the most personal and intimate experiences a person can have: a shared meal.

The problem is Jesus wants more than just dinner.  After this metaphorical meal we share, he hangs out for awhile… a little too long, perhaps.   Then he starts messing around with things.  He rearranges the furniture.  He thumbs through the checkbook register.  And worst of all, he goes straight for the closet to pull out all those skeletons.

All that hard work I put into arranging my life is thrown out the door.  I worked hard to get things just the way I want them.  And worked even harder to hide and bury those skeletons in the closet.  I just took him at his word; he said he wanted to come in for dinner.  He didn’t mention anything about turning the whole house upside down.  There are a lot of things I just don’t want him messing with, and of course those are the first things he goes after.

He says it’s for my own good.  He says that it’s because he loves me and wants what is best for me.  He says that the things he takes away with be replaced with even better things.

But I still don’t like it much.  It’s never easy.  It even hurts at times.  But I guess I’ll try to take him at his word.