Knock, Knock, Knockin’ at Heaven’s Door




This morning I awakened to the nagging sound of a monosyllabic tweet. A sparrow outside my window, no doubt, wanted to remind me that the bird feeder was almost empty. Now, I’m a great aficionado of birds–why else would I feed them? But this little guy irritated me to no end and it set my day off on a sour note.

It only got worse. My deaf, hyper little Jack Russell was in an extra-agitated mood when we took our early morning walk and everything, everyone who walked or rode by or flew overhead set her into a frenzy. To top it off, the landscapers descended on our complex and began unloading their lawn-mowers for their weekly grass maintenance.

After that, it was difficult to settle in to my prayer time. Even my Bible readings seemed to offer anything but comfort. And then God’s humor intervened. The folks next door (in an attached condo) began the demolition of a wall to expand an existing bedroom. The workers came on board with a steady pounding of a sledge-hammer.

Ironically, this was just the reminder I needed to hear this morning. Eric Clapton’s song slithered into my subconsciousness and I realized that it is in the little things that we can discover the Divine. We hunger for more and the only “more” that can fill us is our God. But beyond that, God hungers for us. He won’t leave us alone until we hear his knocking at the door of our hearts.

The nagging bird came back before my quiet time ended. The hammering persists several hours later. Other repetitive sounds keep drawing my attention–but now, instead of frustration, I can savor the reminder.

I don’t remember the words to Clapton’s song beyond the opening lines but it’s playing in my head none-the-less. Ah, sweet delight: here’s comes the lawn mower. Again.