ASK, SEEK, KNOCK


Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.
(Matthew 7: 7-8 – NAS)


This seems so simple and straightforward. And surprisingly wonderful. Jesus says this is true, so surely it must be.

Why then do we find it so hard to “make it work” in our lives? We feel that we have been asking and asking for something, and nothing has happened. We seek for something and don’t find it. We knock on metaphorical doors and never find a sign of life. How can it be as simple as Jesus says it is?

When we ask things of God our Father, what is it that we have in mind? What do we ask for? And how are we doing the asking?


I ask that God provide for my living expenses, for my rent and my food. Jesus says that what we ask for we will be given. What I trip over is that what God gives to me never appears in the form I’m expecting of it. When I ask God to provide for me, in the back of my mind I’m actually thinking of wanting some regular income so I don’t even have to think about how I will paying the rent this month. But that isn’t what I asked of God. Why then am I surprised when God’s providence comes from some unexpected direction?


It would seem then, that on the one hand, we ask in too vague a manner, leaving God at a loss as to how to address our request. What did we really want to ask for?

I think we often fear to be too specific because we want to “leave God room” to do the unexpected. But in doing that, we end up muffling what our request is. Or, we try to be humble about what we are asking, and so we do not ask for what is really on our hearts but rather for some pale, feeble version of our desire.

Let us remember that we are speaking to a Divine Father who in fact already knows what is in our hearts. What is He thinking when He hears our watered down requests instead of our heart’s desires? He knows we don’t really want what we’ve asked for, we want something bigger, better. And so He waits for us to speak from our real desire, to ask for what we really want.

The same dynamic comes into play when we seek after things. How earnestly are we seeking? Do we even know what we want to find at the end of our questing? Will we recognize it when we come to it?

And knocking on doors? Are we really doing that, or are we just tapping on the door once in passing? Do we really want to enter in through the door? And are we actually even knocking at a door? I’ve long taken a sarcastic perspective on “knocking on doors,” because, as I like to say, I wonder if we are even always knocking on a door. Perhaps the “door” isn’t opening because what we are knocking on is a wall, and the door itself is standing wide open just a few paces away. But because we are stubborn creatures, we continue knocking on the surface in front of us.

So I do think that our perspectives and honesty do affect how well God can answer us when we ask, seek and knock. I think some of these conditions do matter in how we interact with the Lord when we come before Him.

And yet, the simplicity of Jesus’ statement remains. He does not elaborate. He does not put conditions on the actions. The declaration stands there boldly, un-garnished, uncluttered, direct.

Ask, and it shall be given to you.

Seek, and you shall find.

Knock, and the door will be opened to you.

Everyone who asks will receive.

He who seeks, will find.

To those who knock, the door will be opened.

Jesus really wants to get these points across, so He says each of them twice.

Does our doubt and unbelief get in the way of following through on these promises? I think it does. We don’t believe it could be this simple. Jesus will remind us about the context in the next set of verses, once again telling us that we are dealing with a loving Father.

Ask, seek, knock.

Are we honest enough to ask for what we really desire? Are we clear enough on our goals that we know exactly what we are seeking? Are we bold enough to knock on the door once we find it?

We are the Children of the Lord. If we are earnestly trying to be His people, what do we fear when faced with this loving opportunity for interaction that He gives us?

Be bold and approach the Father: ask, seek, knock.

KEEPING A TREASURE HOUSE

 
Do not store up for yourselves treasure on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal. for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
(Matthew 6: 19-21 – NAS)

 
Jesus wants us to hold the objects of this world very lightly. He tells us this because He knows our capacity for caring about things deeply. 

It is built into our nature to cherish something, almost anything. We are creatures who invest our hearts in things, and He does not consider this tendency a bad thing. Note that He does not tell His followers to avoid treasuring anything. Instead, He tells them to “store up treasures in heaven.” 

What does He mean by that? 

Well, first He reminds us that the things of this world are transient. They are not going to last, one way or another. Moths and rust can destroy objects. Of course, those are not the limits of erosion and corrosion. But He’s not trying to give us a full list of all the natural ways objects can be worn down; He’s just trying to get us to recall that nothing this side of heaven is permanent.  

But beyond the natural wearing-away of things, He also reminds us of human nature. Thieves can break in and steal those objects we hold precious. Someone can simply take away our treasures, snatching them out of our hands. 

Once again, Jesus makes it clear that His followers will not be living in a perfect world here. He’s warned them that they will be persecuted. He’s told them to be peacemakers – which means there will be conflict. He’s instructed them to resolve their conflicts before worshipping – indicating that even among themselves their human natures will still clash from time to time. And here, He reminds them that there are those around them who might steal their belongings. 

He conveys all this quickly, in order to get to the important thing: where your heart is, that is where your treasure is.  

If your heart is settled in the objects you possess, when those things are broken by age or stolen by a thief, what then happens to your heart? You are broken and devastated by the loss. And if your attachment to the object is so great that you cannot recover, what does that do to your relationships with other people? 

That is the challenging thing in His words here. He tells His followers to store up treasure in heaven. But what does that mean? What can we possibly store up in heaven? It is clear that He is implying that the things of this world are not likely to be in that heavenly storehouse. How can we convey that family heirloom chair into heaven? What moving service will do that for us? 

We have to look back and consider what He has said about the kingdom of heaven. 

When we do that, we start to realize that what He is talking about is our relationship with God, and after that, our relationships with others. For that is where the kingdom of heaven lies. And the kingdom of heaven is eternal (“for Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever”). 

Why do we find it so easy to invest our hearts in objects? 

Well, for one thing, they do not intentionally hurt our feelings. They are not willfully contrary and they do not challenge us or jeer at us. If they are beautiful, we enjoy their beauty and that fills our hearts with pleasure. That’s not a bad thing in itself.  

God created a universe filled with beauty and when He was finished doing it, He said “It is good.” And He stopped and gave Himself a space to enjoy His creation. When we look at scripture and see that this is how God began His own interaction with creation, how can we believe that He does not want us to appreciate the beauty of created things? 

Where we get into trouble is when we begin to invest such intense feelings for the objects in our lives that we care more about them than we do about the people in our lives. Objects cannot return love to us – they have no love to give. Love is a reciprocal activity. It needs interaction. It needs give and take. An object can do neither of those things, not really. 

I have four pieces of inherited furniture. They are lovely pieces. 

One piece is a graceful table, which had been made by a great-aunt, the sister of my father’s mother. A single woman, that I don’t know all that much about. My understanding is that one of the ways Aunt Dot earned a living was by taking the pre-cut pieces and assembling them. She would do the finishing carving, sand it and stain the wood and put the sealing finish on it. Whenever I consider this table, I’m reminded of the challenges single women faced in the past, the limits of what they could do to take care of themselves, and Aunt Dot’s response to that circumstance. It seems a streak of independence runs in my family. This beautiful table came into our household when I was still very young. 

The second piece is a sideboard with a hutch which I inherited directly from another great-aunt, Aunt Lucy (from whom I got my middle name). I remember it in her house when I was tiny, and so I connect her presence with the object. Since I was still very young when she died, the sideboard was put to regular use by the family. It often served as a buffet for holiday dinners when we entertained. My understanding is that it came from Lucy’s own parental home, giving it a history that reaches back to the late 1800s. 

The third piece is an armchair from my grandparents’ home, one that I remember my father’s mother sitting in when we would visit them. My memories of her picture her sitting very lady-like in that chair, in a pool of light by the window of their living room. 

The fourth piece is a carved chest that was given to my parents as a wedding present. All the sides of it, except the bottom and back, are carved with intricate panels of people in an oriental garden. There were many Saturday mornings where my dusting duties included giving close attention to the chest, dusting into the crevasses of the carving, for there were many tiny places for dust to lodge. 

Each of these pieces hold many memories of the past, of my personal experiences with them, of the people associated with them, of the family history attached to them. They are precious to me. 

But they are precious to me mostly because of the people. They are lovely in their own right, of course, and so they would be very hard to part with on those grounds, for I do love things of beauty. But what truly makes them “treasures” to me are the connections to my family – my Aunt Dot, who I met only once or twice, who met the challenge of her single life by creating something of grace and beauty; my Aunt Lucy, who also lived single and who spent most of her adult life serving as a missionary in India; my grandmother Winifred, who always seemed to me the model of a lady and yet who never was anything but delighted by her rambunctious grandchildren when we invaded their house every other year; and my parents, who had an amazing partnership of love and appreciation for each other. These are the true treasures I hold in my heart. The pieces of furniture, much as I do love their beauties, are only touchstones for the real treasure. They are, for me, physical manifestations that quietly and constantly invoke the beauty of the people associated with them. 

Our relationships, with God and with each other, are the treasures Jesus wants us to store up. Relationships between souls are eternal things. True treasures give our love back to us in relationship. 

Objects can give us pleasure, yes, and there is nothing wrong with pleasure. God takes pleasure in His creation. But pleasure is not Love, it is not the interactive connection of hearts to each other. Why do we give our hearts to objects that are not only transient, but cannot return love to us? 

Love is the most precious treasure we can have, and it is the one best protected by being kept in the storehouse of heaven.

HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT THE JOB?

Recently, there was an opportunity for me to move up the ladder at work. A couple of writers positions opened up. Now, this happened at a time when I’ve been working toward moving on with my own writing pursuits. But one of these positions would be very advantageous for me, even if it was just a temporary position (as was a possibility).

So, I set aside my outside pursuits to go after one of the positions. And prayed about it all. It really felt like the right thing, to go after the position.

Well, when the decision came down, I did not get the job.

Now, on the one hand, I wasn’t really upset by that outcome, because, as I said, I was already pursuing other possibilities. But on the other hand, it would have been so fitting for my pursuits if I had gotten the job. And also, why would God have me go through the exercise of applying for it, doing the work involved in the application (there was a writing sample required), and then not put me into the position? It was a puzzle.

So the weekend after the decision about the positions was announced, I was praying about this. It was a song that I’m sure God has heard many, many times. “How come, God? Why did you nudge me to do this, if it wasn’t going to pan out? I could have been working on the other stuff! So, how come?”

Now, when you’re praying like this, and actually desiring an answer to it, you shouldn’t be surprised if an answer does come along. There I was, in the “how come?” mode, and a very different question slides quietly into my thoughts. It brought the whine (for that’s really what it was) to a halt.

In the jumble of all my thoughts about the possibilities lost, complaints about time lost on projects, and general discontent with the stalled feeling I had in my life, the question “How much did you really want the job, for itself?” crept in.

I sat in silence for a bit, both actually and mentally. Because the reality was that I didn’t want the job all that much for itself. Oh, I could have done it well, and I would have enjoyed it. But I didn’t want the job in and of itself. I wanted it for the things I could reach more quickly because of having that particular job. It seemed like an ideal short-cut to some things I want to reach professionally. And that was why I had gone after it.

Now, I don’t think God really objects to us doing some jobs because they bring us closer to some other goal. Sometimes it is the only way we can get to the desired destination. But I do think he is not pleased when we enter a job in an attitude that could cause us to do less than our best in that job.

If my eyes were always set on the Next Thing I was heading to, how would that affect the quality of my work? I don’t think it’s a good thing to be looking at any job as a means toward some outside end. Because the reality is that the ends do not justify the means.

Most of the time, we can disguise the fact that we’re not giving the job at hand our full attention and our best work. If it is done “just enough” to get by, we and those we work with and for usually let it go. But one of my activities and interests is doing artwork. And there is no disguising in a picture those times when the artist has taken short-cuts. You just can not hide a “sketchy” section of a drawing that is otherwise well-finished and polished. And yet, I still slide into that “getting by” mode when I’m working on things other than drawings.

Now, of course, I’m talking about job options that are in a field I happen to love. So, it’s easy enough for me to talk about the importance of wanting the job, and doing it well. But I also vividly recall a conversation with my father years ago. I was still in college at the time, and had made some impassioned statement about loving one’s job. My father responded in very pragmatic tones, observing that most people don’t have that choice, that most people have to do dull jobs, perhaps even drudge-work. Jobs they are not likely to love even in the best of circumstances.

At the time, I couldn’t imagine that. Optimist that I am, I was all for pursuing the occupations that spring from the things one loves doing. Since then, I’ve done my share of brain-numbing drudge-work. And I’ve tried to do those jobs well. Even so, I don’t always consider two crucial questions, questions that are even more important when the prospective job is in a field I really do love. They are questions that need answering one way or another before going into a new job, just so you know where you stand. In some ways, they are aspects of the same issue, sounding like the same thing. The answers are between you, God and the job, but that doesn’t mean you can ignore them. I’ve certainly been reminded to ask them of myself. That Still Small Voice has a way of sneaking them in, if I try to avoid them.

Why do you want this job?

How much do you want the job, in and of itself?