Knock, knock. Jesus is real.

I stumbled across a remarkable statement in a novel I was reading. “Theology ought to be alive, vivid, related to real life, not a system debated by intellectuals.”

I wonder if that is a three-dollar way of saying what Pastor Jeremy said one Sunday.

“Jesus is real.”

When I heard it, I dismissed it as a “Captain Obvious” statement. No one in the auditorium thought otherwise.

But the statement stuck, floating around somewhere in the back of my mind.

And it pops up at the oddest time.

Laurie and I were settling down one evening to watch a movie. We even had ice cream to go with it. As I was licking my spoon, she muted the TV and said someone was knocking at the door.

Sure enough, it was my granddaughter. She’s 10. Mismatched socks, an oversized sweater, Crocs and a chocolate smear on her chin.

“Grampa, come outside.” I don’t think it occurred to her that I might be doing something else. “Of course,” I said.

We mooched around the backyard. Contemplated the baby grass that had just come up in a bare patch that had been newly seeded. We tried batting a tennis ball with a baseball bat. She flung herself onto the swing and ordered me not to tickle her, which we both knew I would try. It was part of the routine.

She pulled out a map she had drawn of the “Magic Forest,” which in our world borders her backyard and is the gateway to a fairy kingdom. To others, it’s just a narrow row of cedars that had once tried to be a hedge, but we knew better.

I never looked at my watch. I never entertained a single worry. I didn’t think about what tomorrow might bring or what might be required of me. I didn’t care if I got grass stains on my knees or that my old garden shoes were getting tired.

We just hung out. I rejoiced in her company.

Eventually, it got dark, and we both, with heavy hearts, said good night and sloped off home.

“Jesus is real.”

There is a verse in Revelation that begins, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock…”

The biggest mistake I have made as a Christian is pouring all my energy into acting like a

Christian. I repented and received Christ because I knew “Jesus was real.” And then I carried on as if Christianity was somehow about what I chose to wear, eat, and drink. What political opinions I should support, what service should I undertake, how much money should I give, how to resolutely resist temptation. It became spiritually exhausting.

It then occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I had got something wrong.

There is a verse in Revelation where Jesus tells the church at Ephesus, “I know your deeds, and your hard work and your perseverance… Yet I hold this against you; you have forsaken the love you had at first.”

If you find yourself perhaps exhausted, worn down, or struggling, then maybe, just maybe, you should listen for the knock at 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 eat with him, and him with Me.”

And then maybe the two of you could go outside, mooch around in the backyard, laugh,

rejoice in one another, hang out together, come what may and never have to say goodbye.

“Jesus is real.”