16:13
Yesterday, I was riding the bus into town.
We were bumping and swaying along over the cobblestone roads of a detour into a side neighborhood, before joining up again with the main thoroughfare. I was looking out my window at the colorfully painted cement block houses, random stray dogs, cacti, dry brush, dust, abandoned cars, non-abandoned cars… We passed a nice looking house with a big wooden door, and a small, fluffy white dog sitting squarely in the middle of the door. It was obviously waiting to be let in. It had its back to the door, leaning against it, and was observing the people and cars going by as it remained outside, waiting.
I wondered if the owner had forgotten about it. I wondered if the dog had barked, asking to be let in, and no one had heard it, or perhaps it had been ignored. I thought about what it would be like to be that dog, waiting there for someone to remember me, for someone to let me in.
Now, I don’t know why this happened, because small, fluffy, even slightly mangy white dogs don’t usually make me think about spiritual things, let alone Jesus, but this one did. What if that were Christ waiting at my door? How many times has that been Christ waiting at my door? The door to my mind, my thoughts, my time, the chief affections of my heart? All the time. That is Christ all the time. He is always there. What humility! What humility to put yourself in that position with the human beings that you created, to give them the choice to ignore you, forget you, choose to be doing other things inside while you wait outside.
Conclusion: Jesus, please come in. I don’t want to keep you waiting, I don’t want to forget about you. I know that you already live inside of me, but let me remember you. Let me not keep you out of my thoughts, my daily life, my emotions, my desires, my perplexities, challenges and my joys. Come in and be with me.
