Until it Breaks

Yesterday was an ordinary Sunday. We went to church, we went to our favorite restaurant for lunch, then we came home. As usual, I reached for the garage door opening button on my car’s visor. The door makes it’s slow upward movement toward the celling, but once it reaches about two feet off the ground, everything goes into full reverse as the door slams back to the concrete.

I felt like I was receiving a subtle hint that all was not well. I’m good at picking up signals like this.

The first step was consult Google for the possible reasons behind this calamity. There were a few options, with one indicated as the most likely. The good news, it’s an easy one to diagnose. Look at the spring at the top of the garage door. Is it in one piece? No? There’s your problem. As you can observe from the photo in this post, it’s pretty clear that is indeed my situation. The bad news? Under no circumstances should a homeowner attempt this repair on their own.

Apparently, the tension in these springs is dangerous and even lethal if misdirected by a well meaning amateur. Though I often ignore warnings to seek a professional, even I could see this one was beyond me. Tomorrow morning a professional will come and resolve the issue, restoring full open and close function to our garage door lifestyle.

The resolution seems simple enough, but the reality is that I do not have the strength, tools, or understanding to fix this.

I’ve been preaching through the gospel of Matthew the past month or so. Yesterday had me in the beatitudes at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount. As I studied, planned, and delivered the sermon, there was one line that seemed to fix itself in a corner of my mind.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for the kingdom of heaven is theirs.”
-Matthew 5:3 CSB

A few verses before, we find that Jesus has started preaching the same words John the Baptist did before he was arrested, “Repent, because the kingdom of heaven has come near.” The Sermon on the Mount seems to be the ideal place to get into the details of what we need to do to get into the Kingdom. What do I need to do? I know I’ve made a mess of things, so how do I fix them? What tasks? What knowledge? What good deeds will allow me access?

And yet, the first words of this sermon tell us that the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are poor in spirit. The first four statements don’t speak to strengths or accomplishments, but weaknesses and need. It seems that instead of proving something to gain the kingdom, I simply have to understand that I can’t prove anything.

Which makes me think about that spring again. I could try to fix it. I could struggle and strain, and use lots of tools in ways they were never intended to be used to try to install a new spring, or worse, make the old one whole again. (Duct tape and WD-40 fixes anything, right?") But to do so would put me at risk for significant injury. Worse, if I did manage to MacGyver the thing together, it may hold up for a few uses, only to snap once more…this time when someone is nearby, or worse, under the open door. My efforts would prove to be not only be fruitless but also dangerous for me and destructive to others.

How many times do my own attempts at righteousness do the same? When I do all I can to earn God’s love, only to find myself frustrated until I remember to begin from a spirit in poverty. Every time I surrender, I am once more overwhelmed by the imensity of God’s grace, the fullness of his love, and the wonder of his mercy. Repentance and new obedience come easier and more naturally when I start from the right place.

Just as the assurance from the repairman allowed me to stop worrying about the broken door, trusting in the finished work of Christ and the generous nature of God, rather than relying on my own efforts, allows me to experience the very peace and the easy yoke Jesus promised to those who learn from Him.

Grateful today for a door that will open tomorrow. Even more, grateful for a savior who opened the kingdom at the cross.