Abide in me as I abide in you. This is the invitation from the Divine (God, Yahweh, Allah, Christ). It’s as if the Divine is waiting patiently on the other side of the door. ‘Open the door and come in,’ the words of invitation are uttered. This utterance is like a soft breeze that we notice only if we are paying attention. We don’t feel the breeze; we don’t hear the invitation, because we are full of busyness and noise. ‘Come in and join me and discover how we might become one.’ Yet, here we stand outside of the door. We want to read one more book about How to Open the Door. We make copious notes in our journals – one more entry about what it will be like to open the door and cross the threshold. If we stop and pay attention we become aware of the deep longing of our heart’s desire; a desire that is unfulfilled because we don’t open the door and we don’t cross the threshold.
The Divine has left the door unlocked; perhaps the door is even slightly ajar. The Divine is patient. The Divine is waiting to find out how we respond to the invitation to abide in me as I abide in you. Each morning, each afternoon, each evening the Divine patiently repeats this invitation and waits patiently for our response. What is the Love that engenders such patience? What is the Love that is so committed to each of us that no matter how we respond the invitation is always offered; the door is always unlocked and, is I think, slightly ajar.
Each of us is starved for the Love that patiently waits on the other side of the door. Why do we hesitate? Why do we resist Love’s invitation? Why do we, day after day, turn and walk away? Are we more afraid of the light than we are of the darkness? Are we, like children, testing the Divine Love – Do you really love me? Will you still love me even though I turn from you today? Is your love truly an abiding love?
Be Still. Can you hear the invitation? Do you believe that even if you cannot hear it that if you turn just ever so slightly that you will see the door that is unlocked and is, perhaps, slightly ajar? Do you want to turn? Do you want to see? Perhaps, you say – as I have so many times – it is better for me not to turn and see. If I turn and see and accept the invitation and open the door and cross the threshold I will, like the rich young man, have to leave ‘stuff’ behind. Perhaps I love my stuff more! I am reminded of a routine by the great George Carlin that had to do with all of the stuff that we collect and refuse to let go of. What’s the ‘stuff’ I love more than the Love that wants to abide in me? This is a challenging question and once again, I can see myself turning away from the door and yet. . .