Slam!! Slamming doors—a horrible sound, especially if you are a mother and your precious child has slammed his or her bedroom door—blocking you out—in effect saying ‘I want no more of you,’ at least for the moment.
When I was pregnant with my firstborn, I remember hearing mothers talk about this door-slamming phenomenon, and I smugly thought, this will never happen to me. I will be such a good mother; my child will never want to block me out.
Fast forward about eleven years: In the middle of a discussion, my sweet son becomes red-faced, stomps up the stairs, and I hear it: slam! Twice – just to make his intentions clear. I follow him upstairs and knock on his door. “Go away! Leave me alone!” is his only response. Heartbroken, I go downstairs, wishing he could understand that I only want what is best for him. About twenty minutes later I return, and I notice his door has been cracked open – about one inch. I open it a bit more and say, “May I come in?” With his head buried in his pillow, he nods and mumbles “Okay.” We do not come to a total agreement, but forgiveness, honesty, and love permeate his room that day.
We never slam the door on God – do we? Because we are adults and a bit more controlled, perhaps we don’t slam doors, but we might just close up doors – or build barriers against God’s best for us.
During Lent, I have been making an effort to practice what Henri Nouwen refers to as making space for God. He says, “We need to open up space in our lives, so we can listen and seek the fullness of the quiet.”
So I practice sitting in the quiet each morning, contemplating God’s goodness and listening to Him. What a lovely Lenten discipline, right? But sometimes during the quiet, I don’t like what I hear and find myself wanting to close the door to further growth in Him. Maybe I don’t want to overlook an offense or give up a resentment. Do I have courage to open the door to His light of patience, humility, and reconciliation?
Maybe our Lord is calling you or me to a new place – something good – but right now we don’t want to move out of our comfort zone, so we close the door, afraid of the impending changes.
Or maybe rather than believing God loves you and is pleased with you, instead you choose to hang on to old tapes from the past—telling yourself ‘I am not good enough, I am not loveable.’
No matter how many times we close the door, Jesus stands at the door of our hearts and knocks. He loves you, even when you don’t believe him. He wants the best for you. Open the door, make space for him, and if that seems too hard, muster up the courage to crack open the door an inch or so, and trust that he will come in and help you with the rest.
