p. 135 | ONE AT THE DOOR

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Apr 27, 1876

ONE AT THE DOOR.

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock.” Rev. 3:20.

The soul is represented in Scripture under the figure of a house; and a noble house it originally was. It was built of polished stones. It was proportioned with exquisite skill. It was a masterpiece of work. And there was one thing which more than any other ennobled it—it was the residence of God. But how different the soul in its natural state now! Sin has marred its glory. God has been excluded from it. With a few lingering traces of its primeval grandeur, it is dark and ruinous and foul. But what a strange sight you have here! God has not utterly destroyed the soul. In his infinite condescension and pitifulness, he desires to repair its ruins, and to dwell in it again. And lo, in the person of his Son, he is represented as standing at the door, and seeking admission.

The Son of God stands at the sinner’s door. Marvelous spectacle! The Lord of glory seeking admission to a human heart! It is just because you are a sinner he is there. He knows your needs; and, in love past finding out, he comes to befriend and bless you. You are poor, he would enrich you; you are hungry and thirsty, he would feed you and give you drink; you are covered with rags, he would clothe you with a robe of righteousness; you are blind, he would give you sight; you are afflicted with a terrible disease, he would cure you and make you whole. Did ever friend come to your door laden with such blessings as these?

The Son of God stands at the sinner’s door. He does not wait till you seek him, he comes to you; he draws near to your very heart. Has he been long standing there? Let conscience answer. Many a year, perhaps; but he has not yet gone away. You may have been coldly indifferent to his presence, and may have turned a deaf ear to his gentle voice; but he is waiting still. And now his limbs are weary of standing, and his hands are weary of knocking, and his voice is weary of pleading, and soon he may leave the door.

The Son of God knocks. Listen! his hand is on the door. He would awaken you and make you open to him. By his holy word he knocks. It gives you many a warning, and presents you with many a promise. By the dispensations of his providence he knocks. Are your worldly plans succeeding, and is your home full of gladness? Daily mercies have a voice; they bid you open the door. Are you lying on a bed of sickness? Have you met with some severe loss? Has the grave just closed over some dear object of your love? Trials have a voice. They bid you open the door. By His Spirit he knocks. He is doing so with peculiar urgency at the present day. Are you still treating Jesus with cold neglect? Is your door still shut against him? Does he still stand without? Oh, what ingratitude and folly and guilt! His gentle form was bruised for you; his hands and his feet were nailed for you to a cruel cross; his voice cried for you, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.” To keep the door shut against him, is not this ingratitude? He would give you all you need. He would free you from evil in every form. He would make you fully and forever happy. To keep the door shut against him, is not this consummate folly? You are bound to love and honor and serve him. To keep the door shut against him, is not this damning guilt?

Behold a Stranger at the door! He gently knocks—has knocked before; Has waited long—is waiting still; You treat no other friend so ill.

Oh! lovely attitude! he stands With melting heart and loaded hands: Oh! matchless kindness!—and he shows This matchless kindness to his foes.

Admit him ere his anger burn— His feet departed ne’er return; Admit him, or the hour’s at hand You’ll at his door rejected stand. —Sel.