A person sits in the kitchen staring at their phone. They want to call someone — to tell how their day went, to complain, to hear, “I understand you.” They scroll through names and put the phone down. This one will be studying. That one will make a joke. Another will listen and then tell everyone. Outside, hundreds of windows are lit. So many people. No one to call.
Each of us has invisible doors. For us to let someone in, we need to feel something: here I won’t be humiliated, lied to, or remade. One person needs to be listened to attentively. Another needs not to be asked unnecessary questions. A third needs time. We can understand why someone is the way they are and still keep them at a distance. Understanding is not the same as acceptance. Even family members sometimes stand for years at each other’s doors and don’t know how to knock.
The more conditions there are, the harder it is to reach us. One says the wrong thing, another doesn’t call at the right time, a third doesn’t notice our pain. We lock another bolt, then wonder at the silence. No one can get close enough for it to feel warm, for loneliness to disappear even for a minute. Sometimes the opposite happens: a person lets everyone in, gives everything, puts up with any treatment — and one day finds there’s almost no room left for themselves in their own life.
Jesus is a person too. What does it take to get close to him? What words should you say? What should you become so he will want to trust you? The Gospels tell us he did not entrust himself to people: he knew the human heart too well. For a believer he is infinitely above us. It seems as if huge gates should stand between him and us, with inspections to see if you’re clean, smart, and worthy.
But he comes to people himself. He sits at the table with those decent neighbors avoid. He speaks with the woman at the well. He stops when he hears the cry of a blind man. For a first conversation he doesn’t demand that you fix your whole life. He seeks encounters and sends his disciples to do the same. You can come to him. You can walk away. You can come back. And yet he has close disciples. Their path begins with a simple trust: before me stands a Messenger from Heaven, and I am ready to follow him.
But that’s only the beginning. Judas walked beside him too. He saw miracles, ate at the same table with Jesus, heard his voice every day. You can believe that an extraordinary person stands before you and still never love him truly. We don’t know everything that happened in Judas’s heart. We know the terrible thing: being so close, he became a stranger, and the break ended in tragedy. Faith in God and an inner rejection of his way can tear a person apart from the inside. It’s as if they reach for the beloved and at the same time push him away. That is why Paul so insistently links faith with love: even the power to move mountains won’t save you from inner emptiness if there is no love.
So what helps us grow closer? Which doors need to be opened?
First — stop pretending to be a good person. How tired we get from that work. We smile when we’re hurt. We say the right words while feeling envy inside. We’re afraid even to admit to God: “I’m not as kind as I want to seem.” Jesus tells of two men praying: one lists his merits; the other stands off and asks for mercy. God accepts the second. And the father of the sick child confesses to Jesus that he lacks faith and receives help. That means you can come as you are. Say, “I want to trust you, but I’m afraid. Help me.” Finally breathe out. You no longer have to hide behind a pretty face.
Second — preserve your love when he acts differently than you want. We often tell those close to us, “If you loved me, you would have…” Called. Agreed. Done it my way. Peter wants to spare Jesus a path that looks like a terrible mistake. When Jesus speaks of future suffering, Peter tries to talk him out of it and hears a harsh reply. He must accept a Teacher who cannot be led by the hand according to his own plan. It’s hard in ordinary love too: to let the person you care about be themselves, to survive disappointment and not decide immediately that you’ve been betrayed.
Third — don’t demand to be loved more than others. Two disciples ask for places of honor next to Jesus and the others are angry. It’s all so familiar. Mother rejoices more at one child. The boss praises a colleague. A friend spends the evening with someone else. Inside something childlike rises up: “What about me? You forgot me.” Jesus answers that greatness is shown in service. Next to him you don’t have to elbow others aside. His care for someone else doesn’t mean there’s nothing left for you. Even if that person annoys you. Even if you don’t understand what there is to love about them.
Fourth — don’t leave just because you don’t understand yet. Thomas can’t believe the reports of the Resurrection; he needs to see for himself. Jesus comes and gives him the chance to be convinced. He doesn’t strike him from the circle of the close for asking a hard question. How many relationships could be saved if we let each other say, “I doubt. Explain it to me. I need time.” An honest question leaves room for meeting. You can not understand and still keep listening. You can look for an answer without turning the other person into an enemy.
Fifth — take care of what’s been entrusted to you. If a friend confides their trouble, don’t turn it into a juicy story for the group. If someone depends on you, don’t remind them of it in every quarrel. Jesus teaches that faithfulness in small things opens the way to greater responsibility. To Peter, who denied him, he later entrusts the care of people. Forgiveness gives a chance to begin again, and trust asks for tenderness. You may be loved now, even while you are still learning. The main thing is not to use closeness to gain power over those who are weaker.
God loves us. We are near him, and he knows everything about us. But do we know him? You can repeat a beloved name for years and still expect its bearer to fulfill your wishes. Jesus speaks of eternal life as knowing the Father and the Son whom he sent. So after faith comes knowing: what he values, who aches in his heart, why he acts as he does. To trust is the first step. To learn and love the one you trusted is the next. The door is open. You may enter and finally begin the conversation.
Leave a comment