34 responses to “Testimonies from You”

1. 

   thetruthofbreathinghope

   June 28, 2025

   Twelve two-year-olds munch on gluten-free crackers as they stare wide-eyed at the colorful images splayed in my hands.

   “Would you invite Jesus into your home?” I ask.

   Some resolutely shake their heads no. One begins to explain how their grandma comes over and brings ice cream. Another tells me that Jesus lives in her closet. Another jumps up to peer into the pages.

   I try to refocus on the story of Zacchaeus, but I’ve lost them to crackers and their rendition of baby Jesus.

   By the age of two, children have learned about object permanence— objects exist even when they are no longer visible. So, they search for these objects, including Jesus, in their homes, in their shirts (he’s in our hearts, right?!), and in the classroom. But, lo and behold, they do not find a walking, talking Jesus. And so, they wonder aloud. And sometimes, so do I.

   Where are you Jesus?

   But, after the story of the disciples in the storm, the two-year-olds clung to a phrase. “Help, Jesus, Help!” And so, they make me a breakfast of plastic pie and hot coffee while whispering, “Help, Jesus, Help!” Or swing their legs on a bright red buggy as they shout, “Help, Jesus, Help!” I think they get it even if they don’t fully understand. A Jesus they can’t touch, but a Jesus they can cry out to for help.

   As I listen to their little voices ask questions and make declarations, I realize something. When I cry out to Jesus, I offer Him the hospitality of my need, and I invite Him into the very depths of my being.

   In Revelation, Jesus tells the church of Laodicea that if anyone hears His voice and opens the door to Him, Jesus will come into their house, and they will dine together. Did you notice that? Jesus does not barrel his way into our homes but waits for us to open the door—a hospitality of need, where we willingly open to Jesus. The passage likely depicts a corporate call for the church to open herself to the presence and person of Jesus. Still, it echoes with a personal invitation for us to open up to Jesus in our deepest places.

   How often have I closed my heart to Jesus because I don’t trust Him with my needs? Or because I fear He does not have my best interests in mind? Or because I want my desires rather than His plan? Or because I don’t want Him to see the refuse that permeates the darkest corners of my being?

   During my first few years studying in a seminary, I experienced a harsh juxtaposition between God’s holiness and my (felt) unholiness, which left me running from God. Could a perfect, good God truly love the likes of me? And so, I bolted up. But Jesus kept knocking.

   Eventually, by God’s grace, I sheepishly pried open the door, facing Jesus, still unsure. I wanted to present Jesus with a list of why He shouldn’t enter, and why staying outside may be best for us both. But His gentle, peaceful presence persisted, and so, I opened the door a bit wider and ushered Him in.

   As I allowed Jesus to touch the deepest and darkest parts of me, I found that He faced my sins, my fears, and my needs with me. He did not leave me alone. He carried me and held me. He caught my tears and whispered the truth. And then, He began helping me clean up.

   By His Spirit who resides within me, I am becoming more and more like Jesus every day (or so I pray). But what Kevan and Tommy remind me is that becoming more like Jesus does not remove my needs. Instead, Christlikeness transforms my needs into sacred spaces where I experience the presence of God with the people of God.

   I began teaching Sunday School so that I could host and comfort two-year-olds. Instead, they ushered me out of the ivory towers of academia into the beauty of simply whispering, “Help, Jesus, help!” And so, He comes in through the door of my need, and we all dine together. Glory hallelujah.

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