No. 4. The Invitation.
“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear in voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.”―Rev. 3:20.
HOW suitable, and how welcome, is this gracious word to many a poor, weary, way-worn heart! Separated, perhaps, by some necessity from others; shut up, it may be, to the solitude of the sick-room, or to the still deeper solitude of a grief that none around can understand: how grateful to a heart thus worn and tried is this sweet word of Jesus! “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock.” The friend of sinners asks admission; the Lord of heaven and earth presents himself to wait upon the need of the poor, lonely, and heart stricken one. And who can minister like Him? Who can bind the broken heart, or cheer the drooping spirit; who can touch and heal the secret grief, or gladden solitude, like Jesus? Who can give the wounded conscience rest, or pour the stream of peace into the ruffled bosom, but the Lord? None, surely. How blessed, then, to hear His voice―the voice that seems to speak to one alone― “If any man.” And this is not a solitary instance of this gracious way of His. When here in humiliation, we find Him more than once providing for the “one alone.” Rejected by the world that knew Him not; by Israel, whose fathers He had led, in by-gone ages, through the desert, by the fire and by the cloud; this living Rock, in tenderest grace, declared, “If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and drink.” (John 7:37.) Fountain of living waters, then, He was, and is so still; only source of blessing to His people; and the “one alone,” as well as the many gathered ones, may find Him so. Again; still further on, in the same gospel, does He take of the same form of speech: “I am the door; by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved and go in and out, and find pasture.” (John 10:9.) Safety is with Him, the good the faithful Shepherd of the sheep, whose precious blood has flowed in their defense; who died that they might live; who rose again that they might rise and dwell with Him forever. And this blessedness He speaks of to the lonely one: yea, and more than this. Not only life, and peace, and present safety from all harm, but richest food and sweet communion too. The Father and the Son will come and dwell with the obedient one (John 14); for thus runs the further word: “He that hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me: and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him. If a man love me, he will keep my words: and my Father will love him, and we will come to him, and make our abode with him.” (verses 21, 28.) How sweetly here is the solitary cared for! How full the blessing treasured up for him! And does not Jesus, as it were, invite us once again to it, in the still later page of His most blessed word?” If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in and sup with him, and he with me. “How condescending is the grace that waits upon us!” will come and sup with him.” Yes, the Lord will come, and take what we set before Him; all our sorrows, all our burdens, all our heavy griefs and cares. Wondrous that He should do so, but thus it is.” I will sup with him.” As ones of old He walked and talked with two of them (Luke 24), drawing out the tale of heaviness by the gracious question,” What manner of communications are these, that ye have one to another as ye walk and are sad? “leading them, as it were, unconsciously, to find relief in telling all, so now He speaks to us yea, any one of us. We have but to throw open freely ear and heart to Him, and what an exchange He gives us! Not only does He say, “I will sup with him,” but adds, “and he with me.” For as those of old received, as well as communicated, a tale of interest such as only He and His can dwell upon together, till their very hearts burned within them by the way, so now the same most precious Lord not only hears and bears away our griefs, and takes up all our burdens, but gives the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; not only takes the portion which we give Him (bitter alas, it often is, and fraught with shame, as well as sorrow), but gives us back so sweet, so rich a repast in return, that we are constrained to say, that we have forgotten our poverty, and our misery is remembered no more. Not only does He sup with us, but we with Him, to our exceeding gain: and if it but so now, when we see Him, as it were, but in the twilight; when what we are, and what we bring, so hinders us; if it be joy to hear Him now, and to sup with Him now, what will it be when there is nothing to hinder? when our body of humiliation shall have been changed and fashioned like unto His glorious body? when there shall be no more pain, or sin, or sorrow? when we shall sit down with Him in the kingdom of God? when He shall no longer have occasion to knock, as though He were a stranger, but when voice, and form, and feature shall be ever present with us? when we sup with Him, and He with us, in our eternal, blissful home?