Behind Closed Doors

In an earlier post, I wrote that the season between Christ’s Resurrection and His Ascension was an extraordinary time of personal encounters with the Risen Lord.  He appears to weary travelers on their journey of faith, to sincere doubters behind closed doors, and to those who linger at tombs. People get heartburn, have their vision fine tuned, and break bread in true friendship with someone they once admired only from afar.

If you packed away Easter after the April 8^th morning service, then you’re missing out on a wonderful season for you and your loved ones! Invitations are going out for breakfast by the sea. Betrayers who feel all is lost are getting calls they never expected. The outdoor seminary at the feet of Jesus will soon begin.

A while back, we looked at Jesus joining Cleopas and his companion on their wayto Emmaus. If you’re trying to put some distance between yourself and a frustrating, unexplainable set of events, then ask for a fellow traveler to come alongside.  He’ll bring not only better understanding, but the opportunity to become better acquainted with the One who is the Lord over those circumstances.

Today in my devotions, I read about Jesus appearing behind closed doors to His disciples (In Luke 24, beginning with verse 36).

Closed doors. They keep us safe from intruders and the harsh elements. We hide behind them in order to do things we don’t want others to see.

We lock out rude and abrasive people from our lives. We “shut the door” and refuse to do business with companies who have short-changed us in some way. We put the dead bolt on churches, preachers, and Christians that we consider abusive. And many have slammed the door shut on God in an effort to end what they believe to be the source of their pain and disappointments.

I think we all close doors out of fear. Some of the time it is out of a healthy, natural fear, as in locking the doors to your house against criminals; but we mostly go behind “closed doors” in desperate moves toward self-protection.

The disciples had closed the doors because they feared retribution from the Jewish leaders. They huddled together, confused and distraught over shocking events that turned a promising triumphant over Roman oppression into a tragedy of misguided belief. All of the disciples, that is, except John. The Scriptures record that John went to the tomb and “saw and believed” (John 20:8). Oh, and the two followers from Emmaus were there who just had a meal with Jesus.

Peter was there, but only because the messenger at the tomb specifically instructed Mary to include him in this gathering ((Mark 16:7). Although he had seen the empty tomb with John, Peter’s faith had run aground. He was sure that God had marked him for damnation due to his public, curse-filled denial of Jesus-not once, but three times. He remained uncertain of what to believe, what to expect. But we’ll talk about Peter in a later post.

Here’s what struck me from today’s reading in Luke and the additional account in John 20: 19-29:

Despite the closed doors, Jesus appeared in their midst. He didn’t call them out; He showed up in the very place where they were hiding. And when He did so, it was not to chide, but to comfort and assure them that their purpose lay not in one room, but the entire world.

Their portion was not cringing fear, but power and peace. Their partnership with Jesus would require them to face the source of their fears, not run from them. Although rejection, hurt, misunderstandings, and hatred waited for them on the other side, He daringly called them to remain steadfast in love rather than leave. And Jesus promised He would always be with them, never abandoning them to the will of their enemies or to their own devices.

Jesus spoke to me this morning. I have closed doors. Religion tells me that I have to bravely unlock the doors in my own strength and if I fail, well—shame on me for being such a lousy Christian.

Jesus has no problem coming to where I am hiding. The difference between a religion about Jesus and a relationship with Him is that HE always takes the initiative.

As we walk through every room, Jesus lovingly, but firmly challenges me to name each one aloud. That way, I can finally see them for what they really are; and talk honestly with Him about why they exist in the first place. I'm to no longer retreat, but engage the world.

I’ve looked ahead to tomorrow’s devotion, and found something utterly astounding Jesus told His disciples to do. He wants to speak the same to me; but for now, I’m taking inventory of my prisons--one by one--and getting ready to courageously engage the world. That’s where disciples belong.