He makes his home with you
The King at the center, found
The journey through the castle began with a King dwelling at the center, and a soul that had barely entered its own depths. It ends with one of the tenderest images in all of Scripture. Behold, the risen Christ says, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him, and will dine with him, and he with me. The whole long journey inward turns out to have been answered, all along, by a God already at the door, knocking to come in.
Notice the homely intimacy of it. Not I will inspect you or I will rule you, but I will come in and dine with you — the shared meal of friends, the unhurried fellowship of those who are at home together. Jesus promised it elsewhere in the same warm terms: if anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.
This is where the castle leads: not to a technique mastered or an experience achieved, but to a God who makes his home with the soul that opens to him. The King at the center was never far; he was knocking the whole time. Yet even this homecoming must now be guarded, for there is one who hates this union and wars against it — and the soul at home with God must learn to recognize the enemy of its formation. But first, simply hear the knock, and open the door.
“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him, and will dine with him, and he with me.”
— The risen Christ, to the church at Laodicea — Revelation 3:20 (WEB)
Hear the knock at the center of you and open the door — to a God who has been there all along, longing to come in and make his home with you.
“If a man loves me, he will keep my word. My Father will love him, and we will come to him, and make our home with him.”
We spend the spiritual life seeking and striving as if God must be reached by our effort, when the end of the journey reveals he has been knocking on our door all along, longing to come in and dwell. The interior work is to let the seeking we thought we initiated be reframed as a response to a Christ already at the door — and to rest in a union that is his gift and his home with us, while bracing to guard it against the enemy who hates it.
As this stage closes, simply open the door: in prayer, stop striving to reach God and instead welcome the Christ who is already knocking, inviting him to come in, dine, and make his home in the center of you.
Old striving keeps you knocking on a far-off heaven, deaf to the gentle knock already sounding at the center of you — and where the indwelling cannot be prevented, it will be assailed. So open the door to the Christ who has come to stay, and brace yourself, for the stage ahead must teach you to recognize the war waged against this very union.
We spend so much of the spiritual life seeking and striving — knocking, as it were, on heaven's door, hoping God will answer. The end of the journey through the castle reverses the picture with breathtaking grace: all along, it was God knocking on ours. The seeking we thought was ours to initiate was a response to a Christ already at the door, asking only to be let in to share a meal and make his home.
This is the deep rest the inward journey arrives at: not a God we finally reach by our effort, but a God who has been waiting at the door of the heart, longing to come in and dwell. The whole castle, with all its rooms, was built to be his home and yours together. Yet the union, now found, must also be defended, for it has an enemy. Before that battle, though, hear the gentle knock at the center of you — and open the door to the One who has come to stay.
- Have I been striving to reach God who was knocking on my door all along?
- Will I open the door to the Christ who longs to come in and stay?
- Am I ready to guard the union I have found against the one who hates it?
Lord, I have spent my life knocking on your door, when all along you were knocking on mine. You stand at the door of my heart, longing to come in and make your home. I hear you. I open the door. Come in, dine with me, and stay. Amen.