Knocking on the door

Afternoon, Lord God.

Let me run this past you. 

You know when Peter was miraculously released from prison? I know it in terms of Acts 12 in the Bible, but I imagine you remember it as if it were yesterday. For me it's a story that I believe is true but can't quite get into the reality of; for you it's a fond memory.

Peter was in prison and then it got all dramatic; an angel appeared, chains fell off, doors opened by themselves and he walked free. I know he was pretty confused because it tells us so. At first he thought it wasn't actually happening to him, but just a vision, and then as the angel left we hear that Peter is standing in the street gaping. Well, that's how I imagine it. It says that '...when he came to himself...'(Acts 12:10) he makes his way to where he knew his mates were hiding. I wonder what he was thinking. Amazed, scared, awestruck, confused, overjoyed, excited? I'm quite sure that he couldn't wait to find his friends and tell them what had happened. Then maybe a glass of wine or two?

So he knocks on the door and Rhoda answers it. 

'Peter! Wow! We thought you were in prison! It's a miracle! Come in and tell us all about it.'

Nope. 

'Peter knocked at the outer entrance, and a servant named Rhoda came to answer the door. When she recognised Peter's voice, she was so overjoyed she ran back without opening it and exclaimed, 'Peter is at the door!'

Acts 12:14

The disciples and Rhoda debate this for a while. Surely not. Peter is in prison. He's not at the door. Maybe it's his angel? (Seems to me that the disciples at this point were much more used to angels than we are these days. Why is that? If I'd been there I'd have suggested that it wasn't Peter at all but perhaps someone who sounded like him, but no, his angel. What about that?) 

Anyway, Peter's still at the door. Ahem. Knock, knock. 

It is Peter. It isn't Peter. Yes it is. No, it can't be. And so on. 

Knock, knock.

'But Peter kept on knocking, and when they opened the door and saw him, they were astonished.'

Acts 12:18

When they eventually open the door, Peter can get in. I'd love to have been there. 

'Of course it's me, you halfwits. I've been out there twenty minutes!'

Acts 12:18b (my version).

How wonderful, the tale he tells. A miracle indeed. Saved from Herod and secure in the knowledge that God Almighty is watching out for him and has a job for him to do. I bet the wine flowed and they talked into the night, even after Peter left (it says, '... for another place.' Where? That sort of thing intrigues me. Where did he go?) 

Anyway. It was a night to remember indeed.  I bet songs of praise were sung. I bet your name was lifted high that night. 

The thing that made me think was this: the disciples had been praying and praying for Peter. 

'So Peter was kept in prison, but the church was earnestly praying to God for him.'

Acts 12: 5 NIV

They prayed earnestly. They prayed, presumably, that he would be alright, that he wasn't having too nasty a time, and that he might soon get out of prison.  

So they pray that he might be released, and he is. And yet, when he arrives at the door, they don't believe it. To the extent that Rhoda leaves the poor bemused man standing in the street knocking and knocking and looking over his shoulder for prison guards while she gets a bit high pitched in the living room with the disciples. 

They prayed fervently and their prayers were answered. And yet they were astonished. 

Nothing changes, does it? How incredibly reassuring that the disciples were taken aback and disbelieving when their prayers were answered just like I am. 

I pray about something (how often can I actually say I pray 'earnestly'? Feeling a bit uncomfortable about that) and then, sometimes, I am aware that you have answered my prayer. Of course, I suspect that you answer them much more often than I realise, but on the occasions where I see it and recognise it, what do I do? I run about like Rhoda telling people, 'You'll never guess what's happened! It's amazing!'

So I pray in faith, and yet I don't expect an answer. I'm sorry. The faith part is a bit thin, hey? 

Is it a sign of spiritual maturity when answered prayer, even the dramatic type, doesn't send me into a flat spin? When I'm not 'astonished' as the disciples? When I can say, 'Of course God answered my prayer. I'm not surprised; I knew he would'. Hmm. Is that faith, then? 

I think so.

'"Jesus replied, 'Truly I tell you, if you have faith and do not doubt...you can say to this mountain, 'Go, throw yourself into the sea,' and it will be done."'

Matthew 21:21

Ah. It's about the measure of faith, then. Is it possible for me to have a faith that can move mountains? I pray and I think I'm not doubting... but I'm wavery and wondering and I can't honestly say that I'm particularly earnest, much of the time. I'm in good company, because the disciples (who clearly did a better line in earnest) were astonished and doubtful when it came to answered prayer. Thankyou for them, Lord God. Thankyou that I you comfort me with their humanity. They were the very foundations of the Church and yet were reassuringly slow on the uptake.

I would like to ask, though; is it not always a breathtaking, awe-inspiring wonder that the God of the universe would listen to me and answer a prayer in my little life? I can't imagine taking it in my stride, or being unimpressed, because it's amazing to me that you hear me at all. 

I'm sure there's middle ground. I'm sure that I haven't got to the bottom of this; for now I'll go on trying to practice enough to pray earnestly and I shall be on the lookout for an answer. I shall try to expect one. Help me to notice more of the answered prayers that I know are heaped up all around me. Help me to be more sensitive to your hand in my life, Father. Show me how to pray with expectation, not just on the offchance. 

Give me more faith. More and more, Lord. I want to be faithful. I want to be what a friend of mine calls a 'Power Pray-er'. I want to hear from you so often that your voice becomes familiar to me. I want to chat. I want to listen. I want to pray in such a way that your will is done, here on earth, as it is in heaven. I want to bring a little bit of your Kingdom right here. I want to make a difference. 

I don't want to leave Peter knocking in the street. I want to see him stumbling down the road towards me with a startled expression because I was waiting for him to arrive. I was expecting him to arrive.

I just can't guarantee that if - no, when it happens I won't dash off excitedly to tell the world about it. I shall shout it from the rooftops. 

My God is good. He answers prayers. 

Things you already knew

Church, Sunday morning. A simple message. 

As he preached, the Rector actually said, 'The most powerful, life-changing revelations are sometimes the things that you already knew.'

Yep. Exactly what He said. 

This is it:  Life is actually simple. 

Not that he actually said that; the sermon was about knowing God - knowing of Him vs knowing Him in person; in relationship. It was at that moment, however, when a long-known truth distilled in my head and dripped down into a different place of knowing.

I stared at him, and missed the next few minutes of what he was saying, which was a pity, because it was good stuff. 

Life is much simpler than I have been making it. Once again, for the I-don't-know-how-many-th time, I have allowed things to become much more complicated than they need be.

Later, we sang 'All I Once Held Dear', a vintage song of Graham Kendrick's, which has the lines:

Knowing you, Jesus

Knowing you, there is no greater thing

You're my all, you're the best

You're my joy, my righteousness

And I love you, Lord...*

I realised that it's true. Simple as it might be, the rest is trivia. 

Now, I know that there are many questions in life that need answering, and many decisions and lots of living to do; it's not possible (sadly) to live in a state of suspended animation gazing at a stained glass window with your mind far away marvelling at the wonder of God. You can't do it for very long before someone tugs at your leg asking if they can have a biscuit, or it's time to go home and make gravy, or get up to go to work, or to deliver a daughter to swimming practice. Life trundles on no matter where your head is, and so life must be accommodated. 

But - this last week, or weeks, I have been all over the place. It's been a horrible start to the year and I am beyond tired. I'm emotionally stressed and unable to see how things will turn out, which is always a recipe for anxiety in my book. Things that I thought I'd dealt with have returned to stick their hooks in me: issues around people pleasing, worrying what people think of me and my decisions, resentment that I want to get things done but life doesn't permit me to do them; uncertainty on parenting issues and fear of what might go wrong next. All this stuff has made the last few weeks as un-peace-full as it could be, and my word for this year is PEACE.

It still needs sorting out. Nothing has changed, and yet I got a glimpse this morning of something that is true. 

Life is simple. There is only one thing that is important, and that is my relationship with Jesus. 

Knowing you, Jesus; knowing you. There is no greater thing.

And guess what's been conspicuous in its absence, these last few weeks? You guessed, time spent with Him.  Edged out by tiredness, tears, confusion, social media - anything really. I have been known to climb into bed, sink into the pillows, remember that I could do with writing in my journal and rationalise that I'm already lying down and I can't sit up again. God, take that. 

As I took my place in church on Sunday I reflected that it felt a bit strange; I was out of touch. My spiritual home didn't feel much like my home. Last week I was so tired I took the opportunity to stay in my PJs all Sunday morning and the one before we'd been to a mammoth two-day swimming meet which meant leaving the house at 7am and not returning until 7pm each night, so no church then either. And, if I'm honest, very little thought given to spiritual matters in the interim.

So the next verse sort of sums it up, this penny-dropped moment of revelation. The thing that I've known and yet came awake and startled me this morning:

Now my heart's desire is to know you more

To be found in you and known as yours

I know from experience that the hard parts of life, the difficult decisions, the truly nasty days when everything goes wrong - the hard choices; they are all better if Jesus is right next to me. The bad stuff is still there, and if it does knock me over, He is right there helping me up. He doesn't stop it all coming my way but He is there in the middle of it with me. 

If I am found in Him, then I am safe. 

Jesus has never left me. He's been there before, and He is still there now. It's just that I've let a lot of rubbish pile up so that I can no longer see Him. It's not even my job to dig a tunnel through the accumulation of stuff; all it takes is the realisation that I've lost sight of Him, and a faint call on His name. 

So, Lord, I'm calling. My heart's desire is to know you more. To concentrate on that; to stay by your side and learn the things you would have me learn. To allow you to shape me into the person you want me to be. To take the opportunities you give me and to learn to hear you in the chaos of everything and everyone around me. To be more concerned about what you think of me than anyone else. To be faithful.  

I was praying the other day (one of the few occasions, lately) and in a child-like, slightly petulant manner, I asked God for something for me. Not a picture for someone else, but for me, please. Immediately I saw a digger. A JCB-type earth mover. It was breaking up the ground for foundations to be laid.  Smooth ground before, a terrible mess afterwards. And then the words, 'For a new foundation.' 

I think I understand. It feels like the ground is breaking up at the moment. 

I'm not doing so well. It's all a bit too much, so I've decided to make things simpler; to try to focus on what really matters. To build a foundation for something new; or maybe rather to allow a new foundation to be built, since I can't do it myself.  A strong, steady, sure foundation that can take the weight of whatever needs to be placed upon it. I'm hoping it's a foundation of peace. 

Knowing you, Jesus. Knowing you. 

Be my foundation, Lord Jesus. 

*Graham Kendrick 'All I Once Held Dear'

Copyright © 1993 Make Way Music,
www.grahamkendrick.co.uk

Image credit: Image P6300189.JPG 

by mzacha, courtesy of Morguefile.com. Used with permission.