Why Jesus knocks on our doors

Someone you know isn’t deeply in love with Jesus. In fact, your someone (who could be you) might say dismissively, tersely, or painfully, “Jesus? Oh, we’re not on speaking terms right now.”

This is half true. And I’ll get to this.

First, however, English Pre-Raphaelite artist William Holman Hunt (1827–1910) understood the distance, disconnect, and disappointment. I imagine Hunt sensed I do, which is a deep, genuine hurt that can be expressed in sharp or subtle ways.

This a hurt we can all experience when, amid personal sorrow and/or global sadness, an ache swells in our hearts with what to some remains this unanswered question: “Jesus, where are you?”

Like Hunt, we can all think of tremendous loss, devasting circumstances, terrible blows, and great cruelty. To the question, “Lord, where are you?”, Hunt answers.

Hunt titles his renowned painting “The Light of the World.” The allegorical work of art captures Jesus standing at arm’s length near a closed door. With a light in one hand, Jesus knocks at the door that does not have a handle or knob on the outside. The door, which can only be opened from the inside, is overgrown with weeds. With rusty looking nails and hinges, it appears the door has never been opened, or hasn’t been opened in a long, long time.

The painting illustrates the biblical passage in Revelation 3:20: “Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends (NLT).”

With minor detail changes, Hunt recreates this painting two more times. The last rendering, completed in 1904 with the help of Edward Robert Hughes because Hunt experiences vision issues, is life-sized. This final painting went on a world tour from 1905 to 1907. In Australia, an estimated 80% of the population came to view it.

Charles Booth purchased the painting from Hunt and Hughes. The industrialist, author and social reformer donated the art to St. Paul’s Cathedral in London where it hangs today. According to St. Paul’s, the painting is “the most traveled artwork in history.”

We don’t have to wonder why. Hunt visually brings Revelation 3:20 into the overarching message Christianity presents—Jesus wants to connect with those he loves and wants to meet both personally and intimately. This Light of the world came to die for so that eternal life for all sinners is spent with him in heaven, not hell. The self-professed and divinely affirmed Savior does more than stand at the door, that is, our door. He knocks.

I believe Jesus knocks because in life we experience hard knocks. I did mention tremendous loss, devasting circumstances, terrible blows, and great cruelty. These tragedies aren’t regulated to just a few; we all experience individually and collectively what can be visceral damages, defeats and darkness.

Hunt doesn’t simplify the idea that “all we have to do” is open our door to Jesus. Instead, Hunt visualizes what Christians see to those who don’t or won’t yet see, which is this: Jesus isn’t some far off, distant or uncaring figure. Jesus is the very One carrying light to our darkness. He isn’t standing at the door. He is standing at our door.

More so, Jesus carries hope we ourselves have locked ourselves away from by removing the door latch, handle or knob. Jesus wants to join us in our barren gardens of grief and grit. He wants to meet us in our lonely places of loss and isolation. He isn’t deaf to the world’s dismay or demise; he is present to it.

Hunt intentionally sets his painting at night. This allows Jesus’ lamp to be the source of light. Whether the light is symbolic of the light of conscience, the light of the Word, or the light of the Church, it is Jesus who holds it. The way the cords of the handheld lamp tie around His wrist reveal the unity between the light and the ever-present Jesus.

It is this unity that Jesus wants with us.