Just when I thought my red face and nervous stomach had fully recovered from the unexpected pop-in of my last post, “Bam!” I was hit again. Literally.
Hovering over the computer, I heard the knocking. I dismissed it as my rowdy kids doing who knows what. And in a matter of seconds, the blame gang would bolt in and I’d be untangling exactly WHO did what. “She did it! No, she did it!”
I waited. 3-2-1. The hollering never started, but the knocking didn’t stop.
I listened in harder. “No way! That’s somebody at the BACK DOOR!” It had to be family, or a really close friend. Somebody who knew all too well my pride and my doorbell were still broken. They must’ve gone around back for a piece of my mind ready to be served with a bitter cup of coffee.
And someone who was obviously unwilling to leave and willing to knock without ceasing.
But how dare they interrupt me when it was just getting good and I was just getting real. Tapping at the keyboard about my Mama. Marsha Beth Bird. For real. That’s her name. I’d laugh, if I didn’t want to cry. Marsha Beth–do what I say cuz I’m your Mama, I’m nearly always right, and I’ll never give up on you–Bird.
I was just recalling how she took me to task a month before God took her home. About the need to open up our doors wide to Jesus, and not slam them shut when He gets too close. I had looked into her dark eyes, the color of wisdom and love, before rolling my own.
Now back to the present and back to the knocking. And no less than 30 loud knock later, I left that thought on the computer screen and jumped up to let pure aggravation overtake my personal hesitation.
After sprinting through the kitchen, I stared through the glass door and came cheek to cheek and literally chick to chick with my unwelcome visitor. And for once, I lost my words, and nearly my breath.
The towel on my head and the frustration on my face came tumbling down as again, my dark eyes met darker eyes. Planted on the sweetest expression. And all gussied up wearing a peacock blue coat and a rusty red feathered top.
Turns out Mr. Blue Bird wanted my welcome hospitality and wasn’t taking no for an answer. Or a closed door. He flew against the door, again and again. And he got back up, and flew again and again. Unscathed and undaunted. But he didn’t stop then and he didn’t stop there.
And you just “ain’t gawn believe this.” I wouldn’t either, if it wasn’t so true and if I hadn’t just seen it. That was yesterday.
As I sit here today, pecking at the keyboard on THIS, there it is again. Right now. And here I go again. Screeching and hauling my tail feathers to the kitchen just to be sure. And there he is again.
I just ran back here to my room and back to my keyboard and guess who followed me to pummel my window. Yep. We were nose to nose and beak to beak. Again. So when I said last week that Jesus will catch you at the back door if you run from the front door, I should’ve added the window too.
If I didn’t get the memo yesterday, I sure got the repeated message today. Jesus will stop at NOTHING to walk through the door of our lives. And we too must keep persistently knocking at His door and the windows of Heaven.
You waiting on answered prayers? Keep asking. You believing for healing? Keep seeking. You need a miracle? Keep knocking. And trust me on this, His answers and His love aren’t just for the birds. They’re for you and me–my fellow girlfriends and chicks!
“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. Matthew 7:7
Pray without ceasing. 1 Thes. 5:17
I know your deeds. See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut. I know that you have little strength, yet you have kept my word and have not denied my name. Rev. 3:8
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