by Allison Martin
Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.
If you aren’t much of an over thinker, you may not understand this next paragraph. But the introvert in me cringes at the very thought of imposing on someone. The idea of showing up unwanted at someone’s house or accidentally overstaying my welcome is the stuff nightmares are made of. Just thinking about being a bother or causing someone trouble makes my stomach hurt.
So you can understand the struggle I faced on a door to door outreach we did during my Bible school days. My outreach group travelled out west, where churches are much less common than what some of us are used to. We canvassed a few neighborhoods inviting people to the services we were having. At least, that was the plan. We kept running into a problem. Nearly every door we walked up to in those few neighborhoods had a uniform, gold plated sign that stopped us in our tracks. In bold, black letters, each sign read, “No Knock”. Maybe hospitality was a bigger deal in my home state of Texas than I had ever realized, but I was shocked.
Sure, I had seen those kinds of signs scattered around here and there. But never at this magnitude. Whole communities of people were sending a very clear message: “Whatever you have to say, we don’t have time for it. We don’t want you here.” I’m not at all throwing stones at those people for the signs on their doors. I’m sure they had legitimate reasons, and a long list of annoyances that had pushed them to that point. But I couldn’t help but think of how telling this was on our present culture as a whole. And how striking the difference is at the Father’s house.
Upon heaven’s throne, in control of all that has ever been or will ever be, sits a God who has never once been too busy for me.
Or you. I am never, ever turned away. No one is. Not even when I come with the pettiest little struggle that shouldn’t bother me nearly as much as it does. He isn’t wearied with those anxious thoughts that keep my mind in turmoil all day and restless all night. Our smallest wounds and deepest scars are handled just the same - with undeserved, unbelievable grace.
Our struggles aren’t just tolerated in the throne room - they are welcomed. We aren’t a bother or a burden. It’s never a bad time, or too inconvenient. Our wounded hearts don’t have to be sugar coated or glossed over. The pain can be placed in the Father’s hands, raw and ugly as it is. The Father once turned his back on the sin His Son bore, so that He doesn’t have to turn away from you. The truth is that our wounded heart’s greatest fear is rejection. And let me promise you this: in the throne room, there’s not a chance of rejection.
That voice that whispers promises of rejection and disappointment is lying to you. In truth, He has seen it all along The question is never whether God will see what’s really going on in our hearts. The questions is whether we’ll be honest enough to admit we need help. And whether we’ll trust His promise enough to come and receive it.
And while we’re on the subject, this welcoming kind of love is not only what we’ll find at the throne of grace, but also in the embrace of God’s people. So often, we are deceived into thinking it’s better to carry the load all on our own. It’s less risky that way. And also a lot more lonely.
The fear of letting someone see our less than perfect life will rob us of one of God’s greatest gifts: each other.
May the love of God so saturate our lives that in us, our friends see a safe place. Where it’s never a bother, or a burden. Where it’s never a bad time, or too inconvenient. May our hearts be open enough to convince all we love that they are welcome there.
I don’t know if the throne room has a door. I doubt it needs one. But I know if it did, it would never say, “No Knock”. Actually, I think it would probably have just the invitation you need to hear. I think it might just say, “Come on in.”