An Illustration of Salvation

So. Who knows anything about little one-year-old boys?

I do.

At least, I know a little...since I have a little one-year-old brother. Anyways, for those of you who don't know Henry, he's cute, fuzzy (at least his hair is), smart, and can be stubborn at times. Not to mention naughty. But I won't mention it.

Anyways. I was playing a game with him several weeks ago. I was in Mom's room with the light turned off, and he kept shutting the door and "locking" me in. He doesn't know how to open the door himself (and I am certainly not going to teach him how!), so I guess he was rather "locked out" himself. After he pulled the door all the way shut, I would wait for a few seconds, then twist the doorknob so that he could push the door back open again. I would run and hide, and he'd crawl into the room (he can't walk yet) looking for me. As soon as he saw me (or as soon as I jumped out of my hiding place and scared him), he would crawl as fast as he could to the door and shut me in the room again.

Well, eventually he decided to shut us both in Mom's room...and of course he couldn't get out, so I was laughing at him while he pushed and pulled at the door, trying to figure out how on earth to get back to the other side.

As I said before, it was dark in that room, and the only light we could see was coming in from underneath the door...from the hallway.

Just for fun, I decided to tell Henry that if he clapped, the door would magically open. Guess what he did? Or rather, guess what he didn't do? Well, he didn't clap, and that's all there is to it. I kept saying, "Henry, clap and the door will be opened!" But instead, he would crawl away from me and try to open the door himself.

Well, Henry's not the only one around here who can be a bit stubborn. I decided not to let him out of the room until he clapped for me. Don't ask my why I decided this...it's just me, I guess. Anyways, I kept explaining to him how he could open the door, if he would just obey me and clap. I even clapped myself and opened the door to show him how it worked.

He eventually tired of my game, so he crawled off into the dark to play. I laid there for a while, pretending to be dead (this part has nothing to do with the illustration), but Henry didn't seem to be scared. He just laughed at me and pulled my hair. 

Finally he made his way back over to the door and pulled at it again, his Uh-oh's getting shriller. He banged on the floor, knocked on the door, and called for help, but still the door didn't open. [Of course.] Then I came up behind him and said, "Henry, clap!" He did. And I opened the door.

I'm sure the light looked great to him, after having been cooped up in the dark room.

Now, the whole time I was playing this "game" I was thinking about how similar it is with people and God.

We are trapped in sin -- the dark room -- with no way out...that is, no way out on our own. But then God come to us and says, "Believe...simply believe, and I will open the door to eternal life." But we laugh. No, we think. That's too easy. It's just not possible. Things aren't done that way. 'Believe.' Nah! 

And all the while, as we crawl around in the darkness of our sin, as we stumble and fall, as we remained frightened by the shadows in life, God is there, always with us, patiently saying over and over again... "Believe! Simply believe!"

Our stubbornness keep us from obeying. But then, when we are at our wit's end...when we have no where else to turn to...when we finally realize that -- no! -- we can't do it on our own...then we stretch out our hand and say, "I believe! I confess, I was wrong, but now I believe!"

And God opens the door to light.