Behind Door #1.
He knows the secrets of the heart.
You know the game show where a contestant is given three doors to choose from. Behind each, a surprise awaits him. It might be a lifetime supply of rubber bands or an Alaskan cruise or luxury furnishings for his home. Or perhaps a few goats (which, for a contestant who owned several overgrown acres, would be a terrific prize).
These game show doors make me think of people. When I first become acquainted with someone, I know nothing about him and can only make a guess as to what’s behind the facade. Just like those doors, I scrutinize his facial expressions, the depth and sincerity of his eyes ~ cautious and protective or inviting and eager? I might detect signs of pain and anger or kindness and humility.
When God places a new person in my path, a game show type wondering begins…
If I choose door #1, will I be awarded a prize of great value? An engaging soul with healthy boundaries? Or a deeply wounded person bent on taking me down with the ship (that leaves me begging to trade him in for a lifetime supply of rubber bands)?
Will he be safe and rational and understanding? Will I benefit? Would we share common interests or backgrounds?
Because ain’t nobody got time for conflict or mama drama or unnecessary heartache or ugliness. Nobody. In fact, the world is already trashed with the likes of these relational messes and could use a biblical street sweeping.
The reality is, making a connection with another person isn’t a game show. The offering on the other side of someone’s ‘door’ might be mutually beneficial, the sweet prize of a kindred spirit. A friend for life!
As I preoccupy my brain with what lies behind a smile or grimace, a huff or a sigh, a stiffened posture or lax shoulders, crossed arms or open hands, God prompts me to make a choice.
No, not a Caribbean vacay. Way better. It’s Jesus, the ultimate, life-giving take-home prize.
When someone sees me as either Door #1, #2 or #3, eternal life through Jesus Christ is really the only thing of lasting value I have to offer. And it’s my responsibility to entice him to choose the right door.
If he does, regretfully, he might consider Jesus no more than a lifetime supply of rubber bands. He’d be way wrong- and end up with a hell of a hot eternity on his hands – but I can’t insist he take the prize I’ve offered. He’d have to take that issue up with the heavenly and sovereign game show Host.
Who’s scrutinizing your door? If he chooses you, will he be joyfully blessed or deeply disappointed by what he finds on the other side?