WHEN JESUS KNOCKED: A Story of Hope In My Darkest Hour

The doorbell almost made me jump out of my slippers that night. My body was weary, my soul set on edge.

Even on the best of days, I hated to answer the door. After all, doors and I had never been friends.

When I was four years old, a heavy church door swung shut on my fingers. Later, at age twenty, shame forced me to exit through another. And earlier that day, it felt like God had slammed one more door in my face as I tried to tiptoe over its threshold.

So, risk opening another door tonight? No, thank you.

But someone wasn't giving up. The doorbell rang again.

Who had the audacity to interrupt my grief? Didn't they know I wanted to be left alone? If it were someone who needed something, I had nothing left to give.

I stood frozen in the foyer, praying they'd go away and let me be. Please, God, help me shut out the world, pull up the covers, and cry myself to sleep.

My prayers were answered with an eerie pause before an insistent, gentle knocking that began like the questions and doubts I had tried to keep at bay for months. I knew I'd never rest until I found the courage to unlock my fear and face them.

With a trembling hand, I switched on the porch light, bracing myself for more pain as I squeezed my eyes shut and threw open the front door.

But God never meant for us to fight the darkness alone.

I couldn't believe who I saw when I dared to peek with one eye.

"Sally?" My friend from church stood there silently holding out a single white carnation.

Stunned, I tried to make sense of the situation. It was late on a school night; Sally had four little ones of her own to tend to. Yet here she was, offering the little time she had to me.

What compelled her to leave her family and venture out on a night like this?

Who insisted that she come?

How did she know that I needed a sign that told me that all would be well?

Most of all, I needed to know the answer to the question burning in my heart.

Does Jesus really love me after all?

"God told me to," she answered before I could speak.

She pressed the flower into my hand, wrapped my fingers securely around it, gathered me in a warm hug, and turned to go without a sound.

As I watched her taillights fade into the night, I sensed the unmistakably sweet presence of the Lord that has remained with me ever since.

In one of my darkest nights, Jesus knocked on the door to my heart and ushered in an uncanny sense of peace.

"Momma? Who's there?" a groggy voice called from the bedroom.

"Jesus," I answered, knowing it was true without a doubt.

No matter how many doors try to crush our hopes or slam on our dreams, Jesus is the one and only door that remains forever open to us.

When we're frozen in fear behind the barricades we've built to protect us, Jesus keeps gently knocking. He holds the key to our hearts. He'll wait as long as it takes for us to let Him in.

"I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." (John 10:9-10)

Today, if you hear God knocking through a friend's unexpected kindness, a scripture that won't leave you alone, or a gentle stirring in your spirit—dare to open the door.

Even if it's just a crack. Even if your hand trembles.

Jesus only needs the smallest opening to flood your darkness with His light and bring you an everlasting bloom of hope that will sustain you in the days to come.

Take heart, and open the door.