My dad had taken my two older brothers to a father/son activity at church, but at six years old I was too young to go. So Mom let me ride the back of the couch like a cowboy on his horse, which she said spoke less about her parenting than the quality of the couch.
My dash across the imaginary plains put me at eye level with the famous Warner Sallman (most known for his Head of Christ) painting of Jesus knocking at the door. I thought I’d heard all the Bible stories in Sunday school, but what did this one depict? I asked Mom. She told me it was symbolic. I didn't know what that meant, so she showed me Revelation 3:20, where Jesus says, ‘Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.’
Mom explained that the door in the picture was like the door of my heart and that I should notice that there was no handle on it. For Jesus to come into my heart and life, I had to open the door. I couldn't wait.
As life progressed, I heard theologians and preachers say that this verse is not really about personal salvation. Well, it was for me.
Ironically, 15 years later I met the woman who would become my wife and learned that her grandfather was an artist and personal friend of Sallman’s; Dianna’s grandmother recalled Sallman visiting their apartment for references when he had been assigned those famous paintings. Small world.
My mother led me to Christ as a young child, and my father helped solidify my rededication as a teenager after I felt a call to full-time Christian service that led to a career in writing.
