Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. [Matthew 7:7 (NIV)]
Ask, seek, and knock—three easy instructions. Ask. Ask as if we mean it, as if we truly care about the answer. Ask as if we believe we’re being heard. Ask with the hunger of a beggar begging bread. Ask with the fervor of someone sinking in quicksand pleading for help. Ask with the thirst of a dying man in the desert requesting water. Ask as if our very lives depend on the answer. Ask.
Seek. Seek as if we were searching for something of value—not a cursory look as if we’d lost a button or dropped a paper clip. Seek as we would for a lost wedding ring, wallet, or child. Seek as we would for an exit from a burning building. Seek by adding efforts to our prayers; after all, we can’t ask God for a harvest without first planting the seeds. Seek as if we care, as if our very lives depended on finding it. Seek.
Knock. Knock as if we truly wanted to enter. Knock with confidence—not shyly as if we don’t know whose door we’re at or timidly as if we’re not sure we’re welcome. Knock and keep knocking as if we desperately need the door to be answered, as if our very lives depended on it. Knock.
We have a promise—God’s promise—and we must ask, seek, and knock as if we believe that promise! Where there is a praying heart, He promises we’ll find a listening God—a God who loves us as a father loves a child. Like a good parent, however, no matter how fervently we ask, how diligently we seek nor how hard we knock, He won’t give us stones or snakes or anything bad for us. While there will be no money for drugs when we need rehab, no car when a bicycle will do, no escape from facing consequences, and even no healing when God’s presence in our pain is enough, there will be mercy, peace, grace, patience, wisdom, strength against sin, and understanding. Rather than sell, loan or rent us His gifts, He gives them to us because He loves us! Trust His promise to generously give good things to those who ask, seek, and knock.
When she lived in Florida, my mother-in-law hired a woman to do the cleaning. In spite of representing herself as a “cleaning service,” this woman had a long list of “won’ts”—won’t do windows, mirrors, get on step ladders, move furniture, or bend over to wipe the baseboards, etc. Nevertheless, she always had a long list of complaints and financial needs that she was more than willing to share.
Friends recently watched their young grandson while his parents enjoyed a much needed “adults only” vacation. Accustomed to the permissive parenting of today, the youngster wasn’t overly familiar with obedience. One of the first things he learned during his visit was that, “Grandpa doesn’t count.” Apparently, his parents give him a count of three (or more) to decide whether or not to obey them; Grandpa, however, did not!
Lord, I trust in you. You are my God. My life is in your hands. [Psalm 31:14-15a (ERV)]
When writing about mimicry yesterday, I thought of Esther and her cousin Mordecai. The book of Esther takes place between 483 and 473 BC but the story began about 120 years earlier when Mordecai’s great-grandfather was in the second group of Jews deported from Jerusalem to Babylon. Rather than treating these deportees as captives or slaves, they were more like immigrants. Although they were given new Babylonian names, the were allowed to keep their God as long as they also worshipped the Babylonian ones. After Babylon fell to Persia in 539 BC, the first Jewish exiles returned to Jerusalem the following year. Perhaps because they’d become comfortable in their new homeland or feared the challenge of rebuilding Jerusalem, like many others, Mordecai and Esther’s family did not return.
It wasn’t Hagar’s fault; she really had no choice in the matter. It was the barren Sarah who offered her maidservant Hagar to Abraham like a brood mare to a stallion to provide him with an heir. Having been used by both mistress and master, Scripture tells us that Hagar began to treat Sarah with disdain once she became pregnant. Rather than accept her part in the tense situation, Sarah blamed her husband, grew jealous of her maid, and treated the girl harshly. Sarah wasn’t just unpleasant to her servant. The Hebrew word used was anah, meaning oppressed or afflicted; it is the same word used to describe the way Egypt’s taskmasters treated their Israelite slaves. In short, Sarah wasn’t just stern, she was vindictive and cruel. Since Abraham had washed his hands of the matter, Hagar saw no reprieve. Wanting to escape her merciless mistress and the household turmoil, Hagar did what many of us do when faced with difficult and seemingly impossible circumstances—she fled.
