When I worked as a nurse on the pediatric ward, before I listened to the little ones’ chests, I would put the stethoscope into their ears and let them listen to their own hearts. Their eyes would always light up with awe.

But I never got a response to equal 4 year old David’s. I gently tucked the stethoscope in his ears and placed the disk over his heart. "Listen," I said. "What do you suppose that is?"

He drew his eyebrows together in a puzzled line and looked up as if lost in the mystery of the strange tap-tap-tapping deep in his chest. Then his face broke out in a wondrous grin. "Is that Jesus knocking?" he said.

I smiled. Somewhere, maybe in Sunday school, David had obviously been told that lovely old illustration about Jesus standing at the door of our hearts, knocking.

Dear little David. You were exactly right. Inside your heart, and every heart, there is a faint persistent sound of Jesus knocking. For Jesus comes to each of us every new day, wanting to share its moments with us. And maybe it’s only those with the faith and wonder of a David who hear it beneath the clamor of a busy world, and open the door.

I’m listening, Lord.
Sue Monk Kidd