Study Questions
Chapter 10
Reaching a decision
The idea that a decision is needed in order to become a Christian strikes many people as very strange. Some imagine that they are already Christians because they were born in a Christian country. ‘After all,’ they say, ‘we aren’t Muslims, or Jews, or Hindus, or Buddhists; so we must be Christians!’ Others think that if they have been brought up in a Christian home and taught to accept the Christian creed and Christian standards of behaviour, nothing further is required of them. But, whatever our background and upbringing, each of us as responsible adults must make up our own minds for or against Christ. We cannot remain neutral. Nor can we just drift into Christianity. Nor can anyone else settle the matter for us. We must decide for ourselves.
Even to agree with all that has so far been written in this book is not enough. We may admit that the evidence for the deity of Jesus is compelling, even conclusive, and that he was in fact the Son of God; we may believe that he came and died to be the Saviour of the world; we may also admit that we are sinners and need such a Saviour. But it isn’t these things that make us Christians. To believe certain facts about who Christ is and what he has done for us is a vital first stage, but true faith must turn such mental belief into a decisive act of trust. Intellectual conviction must lead to personal commitment.
I myself used to think that, because Jesus had died on the cross, everyone in the world had been put right with God by some kind of rather mechanical transaction. I remember how puzzled, even offended, I was when it was first suggested to me that I needed to take hold of Christ and his salvation for myself. I thank God that he later opened my eyes to see that I must do more than face up to the fact that I needed a Saviour, more even than admit that Jesus Christ was the Saviour I needed; it was necessary to accept him as my Saviour. This way of putting things is certainly prominent in the Bible:
The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
The LORD is my light and my salvation.
O God, you are my God.
The surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.
One verse in the Bible, which has helped many seekers (including myself) to understand the step of faith we have to take, focuses on the words of Christ himself. He says: ‘Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with them, and they with me.’
This verse was illustrated by Holman Hunt in his well-known picture ‘The Light of the World’, painted in 1853. The original hangs in the chapel of Keble College, Oxford, and a replica (painted by the artist himself forty years later) is in St Paul’s Cathedral, London. The symbolism in the picture is very helpful. John Ruskin, in a letter to The Times back in May 1854, described it like this:
...On the left-hand side of the picture is seen this door of the human soul. It is fast barred; its bars and nails are rusty; it is knitted and bound to its stanchions by creeping tendrils of ivy, showing that it has never been opened. A bat hovers about it; its threshold is overgrown with brambles, nettles and fruitless corn...Christ approaches it in the night-time...
He is wearing a royal robe and a crown of thorns, holding a lantern in his left hand (as the light of the world) and knocking on the door with his right.
It’s helpful to look at the context of this verse. It comes at the end of a letter addressed by Christ through John to the church of Laodicea, situated in what is now Turkey. Laodicea was a prosperous city, renowned for its manufacture of clothing, its medical school where the famous Phrygian eye powder was made, and its wealthy banks.
Material prosperity had brought with it a spirit of complacency which had even contaminated the Christian church. Attached to it were those who said they were committed to Christ, but were Christian in name only. They were tolerably respectable, but nothing more. Their religious interest was shallow and casual. Like the water from the hot springs of Hierapolis, which was piped to Laodicea by conduits (the remains of which can still be seen), they were (Jesus said) neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm, and therefore nauseating to him. Their spiritual half-heartedness is explained in terms of self-delusion: ‘You say, “I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.” But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.’
What a description of proud and prosperous Laodicea! They were blind and naked beggars – naked despite their clothing factory, blind despite their eye ointment, and beggars despite their banks.
We are no different today. Perhaps we say, as they did, ‘I don’t need anything.’ It’s hard to think of words more spiritually dangerous. It is our self-contained independence which, more than anything else, keeps us from committing ourselves to Christ. Of course we need him! Without him we are morally naked (with no clothing to make us fit for God’s presence), blind to spiritual truth, and beggars, having nothing with which to buy the treasure of heaven. But Christ can clothe us with his righteousness, touch our eyes so that we can see and enrich us with spiritual wealth. Apart from him, and until we open the door to let him in, we are blind and naked beggars.
‘Here I am! I stand at the door and knock,’ he says. He is no figment of the imagination, no fictional character from a religious novel. This is the man of Nazareth, whose claims, character and resurrection support the conclusion that he is the Son of God. He is also the crucified Saviour. The hand that knocks is scarred. The feet which stand on the doorstep still bear the print of nails.
And he is the risen Christ. John has already described him in the first chapter of Revelation, as he saw him in a vision full of symbol. His eyes were like blazing fire and his feet like bronze glowing in a furnace. His voice thundered like the breakers on the rocks and his face was radiant like the sun shining in all its brilliance. No wonder John fell at his feet. It is hard to understand how a person of such majesty could ever stoop to visit poor, blind and naked beggars like us.
Yet Jesus Christ says he is standing knocking at the door of our lives, waiting. Notice that he is standing at the door, not pushing it; speaking to us, not shouting. This is all the more remarkable when we reflect that the house is his in any case. He is the architect; he designed it. He is the builder; he made it. He is the landlord; he bought it with his own blood. So it is his by right of plan, construction and purchase. We are only tenants in a house which does not belong to us. He could put his shoulder to the door; he prefers to put his hand to the knocker. He could command us to open to him; instead, he merely invites us to do so. He will not force an entry into anybody’s life. He says (v. 18), ‘I counsel you...’ He could issue orders; he is content to give advice. This is the nature of his humility and the extent of the freedom he has given us.
But why does Jesus Christ want to come in? We know the answer already. He wants to be both our Saviour and our Lord.
He died to be our Saviour. If we receive him, he will be able to apply to us personally all the benefits of his death. Once inside the house, he will renovate, redecorate and refurnish it. That is, he will cleanse and forgive us; our past will be blotted out. He promises too to eat with us and allow us to eat with him. The phrase describes the joy of having him as a companion. He not only gives himself to us but asks us to give ourselves to him. We have been strangers; now we are friends. There has been a closed door between us; now we are seated at the same table.
Jesus Christ will also enter as our Lord and Master. The house of our lives will come under his management, and there is no point in opening the door unless we are willing for this to happen. As he steps across the threshold, we must hand him our whole bunch of keys, granting him free access into every room. A fourth-year Canadian student once wrote to me, ‘Instead of giving Christ a whole set of different keys to the many rooms of the house...I have given him a pass key to the whole lot.’
This involves repentance, turning decisively from everything we know that displeases him. Not that we make ourselves better before we invite him in. On the contrary, it is precisely because we cannot forgive or improve ourselves that we need him to come to us. But we must be willing for him to do whatever rearranging he likes when he has come in. There can be no resistance, and no attempt to negotiate our own terms, but rather an unconditional surrender to the lordship of Christ. What will this mean? I cannot tell you the details. But in principle it means a determination to forsake evil and follow Christ.
Do you hesitate? Do you feel that it is unreasonable to submit to Christ in the dark? It really isn’t. It is much more reasonable than marriage, for example. In marriage a man and a woman commit themselves to each other unconditionally. They do not know what the future holds for them. But they love each other, and they trust each other. So they promise to take each other, ‘to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part’. If human beings can trust one another like this, surely we can trust God’s Son! It is more reasonable to commit oneself to him than to the finest human being. He will never betray us or let us down.
So what must we do? To begin with, we must hear his voice. It is tragically possible to turn a deaf ear to Christ and drown out the insistent whisper of his call. Sometimes we hear his voice through our conscience, sometimes as our minds reach out for the truth. Or it may be a sense of guilt, or the seeming emptiness and meaninglessness of our existence, or a mystifying spiritual hunger, or sickness, bereavement, pain or fear, by which we become aware that Christ is outside the door and speaking to us. Or his call can come to us through a friend, a preacher or a book. Whenever we hear, we must listen. ‘Whoever has ears to hear,’ Jesus says, ‘let them hear.’
Next, we must open the door. Having heard his voice, we must open to his knock. To open the door to Jesus Christ is a graphic way of describing an act of faith in him as our Saviour, an act of submission to him as our Lord.
It is a definite act. The tense of the Greek verb makes this plain. The door does not happen to swing open by chance. Nor is it already slightly ajar. It is closed, and needs to be opened. Moreover, Christ will not open the door himself. There is no handle or latch on the door in Holman Hunt’s picture. It is said that he deliberately left them out, to show that the handle was on the inside. Christ knocks; but we must open.
It is an individual act. It’s true that the message in Revelation was sent to a church, the nominal, lukewarm church of Laodicea. But the challenge is addressed to individuals within it: ‘If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with them.’ Each of us must make our own decision and take this step ourselves. No-one else can do it for you. Christian parents and teachers, ministers and friends can point the way, but your hand and only yours can draw back the bolts and turn the handle.
Each of us must make our own decision and take this step ourselves...your hand and only yours can draw back the bolts and turn the handle.
It is a unique act. You can take this step only once. When Christ has entered, he will bolt and bar the door on the inside. Sin may drive him into the cellar or the attic, but he will never altogether abandon the house he has entered. ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you,’ he says. This is not to say that you emerge from this experience with the fully-grown wings of an angel! Nor that you will become perfect just like that. You can become a Christian in a moment, but not a mature Christian. Christ can enter, cleanse and forgive you in a matter of seconds, but it will take much longer for your character to be transformed and shaped to his will. It takes only a few minutes for a bride and bridegroom to be married, but it may take many years for two strong wills to become truly united as one. It is the same when we receive Christ: a moment of commitment will lead to a lifetime of adjustment.
It is a deliberate act. You do not have to wait for a supernatural light to flash upon you from heaven, or for an emotional experience to overwhelm you. No. Christ came into the world and died for your sins. He now stands outside the front door of the house of your life, and he is knocking. The next move is yours. His hand is already on the knocker; your hand must now feel for the latch.
It is an urgent act. Do not wait longer than you must. Time is passing. The future is uncertain. You may never have a better opportunity than this. ‘Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring.’ ‘The Holy Spirit says, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts...” ’ Do not put it off until you have succeeded in making yourself a better person and more worthy to receive Christ; or until you have solved all your problems. It is enough simply to believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that he died to be your Saviour. The rest will follow in time. It’s true that there is danger in rushing into things too hastily; but there is equal danger in holding back unnecessarily. If you know in your heart of hearts that you should act, then you should not delay any longer.
It is an indispensable act. Of course there is much more to the Christian life than this. As we shall see in the next chapter, there is getting involved in the life of the church, discovering and doing God’s will, growing in grace and understanding, and seeking to serve God and others; but this step is the beginning, and nothing else will do instead. You can believe in Christ intellectually and admire him; you can say your prayers to him through the keyhole (I did for many years); you can push coins at him under the door to keep him quiet; you can be moral, decent, upright and good; you can be religious; you can have been baptized and confirmed; you can be deeply versed in the philosophy of religion; you can be a theological student and even an ordained minister – and still not have opened the door to Christ. There is no substitute for this.
In his autobiography Surprised by Joy, Professor C. S. Lewis describes how he was travelling one day on the top of a bus, when
without words and (I think) almost without images, a fact about myself was somehow presented to me. I became aware that I was holding something at bay, or shutting something out. Or, if you like, that I was wearing some stiff clothing, like corsets, or even a suit of armour, as if I were a lobster. I felt myself being, there and then, given a free choice. I could open the door or keep it shut; I could unbuckle the armour or keep it on. Neither choice was presented as a duty; no threat or promise was attached to either, though I knew that to open the door or to take off the corset meant the incalculable...I chose to open, to unbuckle, to loosen the rein. I say ‘I chose’, yet it did not really seem possible to do the opposite.
A lady responded to Billy Graham’s invitation to go forward at the end of an evangelistic meeting. She was introduced to an adviser who discovered that she had not yet committed her life to Christ and suggested that she should pray there and then. Bowing her head, she said, ‘Dear Lord Jesus, I want you to come into my heart more than anything else in the world. Amen.’
A teenager knelt down by his bed one Sunday night in the dormitory of his school. In a simple, matter-of-fact but definite way, he told Christ that he had made rather a mess of life so far; he confessed his sins; he thanked Christ for dying for him; and he asked him to come into his life. The following day he wrote in his diary:
Yesterday really was an eventful day!...Up till now Christ has been on the circumference and I have but asked him to guide me instead of giving him complete control. Behold, he stands at the door and knocks. I have heard him and now he has come into my house. He has cleansed it and now rules in it...
And the day after:
I really have felt an immense and new joy throughout today. It is the joy of being at peace with the world and of being in touch with God. How well do I know now that he rules me and that I never really knew him before...
These are extracts from my own diary. I quote them because I do not want you to think that I am recommending to you a step which I have not taken myself.
Are you a Christian? A real and committed Christian? Your answer depends on another question – not whether you go to church or not, believe the creed or not, or lead a decent life or not (important as all these are in their place), but rather this: which side of the door is Jesus Christ? Is he inside or outside? That is the crucial issue.
Perhaps you are ready to open the door to Christ. If you are not sure whether you have ever done so, my advice to you would be to make sure, even if (as someone has put it) you will be going over in ink what you have already written in pencil.
I suggest that you get away by yourself to pray. Admit your sins to God, and resolve to have done with them. Thank Jesus Christ that he died for your sake and in your place. Then open the door and ask him to come in as your personal Saviour and Lord.
You might find it a help to echo this prayer in your heart:
Lord Jesus Christ, I acknowledge that I have gone my own way. I have sinned in thought, word and deed. I am sorry for my sins. I turn from them in repentance.
I believe that you died for me, bearing my sins in your body on the cross. I thank you for your great love.
Now I open the door. Come in, Lord Jesus. Come in as my Saviour, and cleanse me. Come in as my Lord, and take control of me. And I will serve as you give me strength, all my life. Amen.
If you have prayed this prayer and meant it, humbly thank Christ that he has come in. For he said he would. He has given his word: ‘If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with them...’ Don’t worry about how you may or may not be feeling, but trust his promise and thank him that he has kept his word.