On Sunday, my husband Joel preached his last of seven sermons on the seven letters to the seven churches in Revelation.  The final church was Laodicea, to whom Jesus says,

For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. ¹⁸ I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see. ¹⁹ Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent. ²⁰ 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 he with me.

These were rich, self-sufficient people.  They had designer wool for sale, special ointments and a renowned eye clinic, and lots of money.  Yet Jesus shows them the true reality: they are poor, and blind, and naked.  The words are not primarily of judgement, but reproof: I love you.  I’m showing you how you really are, not just telling you what you want to hear.  Be zealous about this.  Repent.

They had everything.  But they had nothing, because everything else was more important to them than Jesus.

And yet, he still said, “If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.”  Because the point of his reproof is restoration, and the goal of restoration is real, true communion with his people.

What is the most important thing to me?

I mean, really?

I want it to be Jesus, the one who sacrificed everything for my redemption, who loved me from before the foundation of the world.  And yet I know in my honest heart when he gently holds the mirror before me that I am often distracted by many other things.  Buzzing about like Martha, when Christ has offered me Mary’s seat at his feat.

Tonight I was about to sing to my sweet five-year-old boy, when I noticed tears in his eyes.  He nuzzled his precious Blue Hippo to his nose, and then said softly, “If someone said I had to sell Blue Hippo to see Jesus, I would do it.”

I felt the holiness of the moment.  It was as if Jesus pulled back the covering of my son’s heart and said, “This is what I am doing in your son.  He is my son.  And he knows that seeing me is the most important thing.”

I am humbled.

It was an unexpected blessing at the end of the day, a reminder that the Lord is at work in my children even as he is at work in me.  And the work of his Holy Spirit is faithful.  It is sure.  And he will bring it to completion.

He is working in me.

I want to see Jesus, too.