Don’t Forget, Keep Your Heart Tender
An allegory processing Matthew 25:31-46 and Revelation 3:14-22
‘Knock. Knock. Knock.’
Three light rasps on my front door stirred my attention away from the TV and to my front door.
I began to wonder who could be knocking on my door at this hour, since I wasn’t expecting anyone. I turn the TV off and get up to see who it could possibly be.
As I open the door, I can’t believe my eyes.
On my doorstep, stands a man who looks familiar, but I can’t seem to put a name with the face. I know I’ve seen him from somewhere, but I just can’t recall from whereabout.
Behind him, gentle rain falls to the ground, and it looks as if he has quite literally weathered the storm to get to my front doorstep. He’s soaked from head to toe, his hair matted to his face, and his shoes are completely covered in mud.
Before I know it, I’m stepping aside and quickly inviting him in. I say, “Come in, sit down and rest. I will get you something to eat and drink.”
The rain beaten man nodded his head in thanks, but didn’t say a word.
I step aside for him to come in, and I’m shocked to see he takes off his muddy boots as not track mud through the house.
But, in the midst of it, I begin to think to myself, “What are you doing? You’re inviting in a complete stranger.” I silently begin to pray in the spirit, and send up a quick prayer of ‘Lord, help me. What have I done?!’
As we enter into the kitchen, I slide out a chair at my kitchen table and tell him to take a seat, while I get him something to eat and drink.
I get him a glass of water and set it on the table, while I put some soup on the stove to warm.
While the soup is warming, I sit down at the table with him.
As I’m getting situated in my chair, I say, ‘So, what brings you here?’
And before I can get completely settled, he says, “You don’t remember me?”
I freeze at the sound of his voice.
“It can’t be,” I begin to think to myself. “There’s no way.”
Before I can utter a word, he says, “It’s true. I am he.”
The silence in the room is deafening. I’m trying to sort out my thoughts, and the only thing I can seem to say is, “Son of man! But how? How are you here? How did you get here?”
He gently replies, “You don’t remember me walking with you. I’ve been with you through it all—through the desert and the wilderness, in your sickness and pain. I’ve never left nor forsaken you.”
There was a brief pause before he said, “But, I have this one question to ask of you: “When you begin to experience the good, will you continue to minister to me?”
“Don’t forget me when it gets good.”