When the Door Is Broken

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” —John 10:10 (NIV)

Imagine you've been away from home for a couple of days. As you return, something feels off. Scrape marks surround the door lock. Inside, silence. You open the door and your stomach drops—the TV is gone, drawers have been emptied, belongings scattered across the floor. Anger rises, followed by a strange relief that you weren’t home when the thief came. But beneath it all is a deeper ache. A place that once felt safe and sacred has been desecrated.

This kind of delayed discovery mirrors the spiritual metaphor in today’s verse. The thief doesn’t always announce his arrival. He slips in quietly, targeting what’s most vulnerable—our peace, our trust, our joy—and leaves behind confusion and brokenness. Sometimes we don’t even realize what’s missing until we pause and take stock. The spiritual theft may not involve shattered locks or stolen electronics, but it leaves us just as shaken. 

We find ourselves wondering: When did I lose my hope? My clarity? My sense of God’s nearness?

But Christ is not like the thief. He is like the neighbor who knocks gently at the broken front door, sees the chaos inside, and enters anyway. He doesn’t flinch at the mess. He doesn’t shame us for the breach—he doesn’t ask us if we’d turned the deadbolt or installed a monitored alarm system. He comes to restore. To rebuild. To breathe life into the places that feel emptied out. “I have come that they may have life,” he says, “and have it to the full.” Not just repaired, but renewed. Not just cleaned up, but made whole.

And when Christ restores us, he also helps us rebuild trust—with others, with ourselves, with the sacred. Restoration is never just about the door—it’s about the relationships that dwell within.

So today, if you find yourself surveying the wreckage—whether in your heart, your home, or your faith—invite Christ in. Let him walk through the door. Let him sit with you in the disarray. His presence doesn’t erase the pain, but it begins the healing. He doesn’t just secure the door; he restores the sanctuary.

Jesus, you see the places in me that have been broken into. The peace that’s been stolen, the joy that’s been scattered. I invite you into the mess. Come through the door. Sit with me in the chaos. Restore what has been lost. Breathe life into what feels empty. Help me trust that your presence is not just repair—it is abundance. Amen.

Peace & Grace,

Pastor Tim

When the Door Is Broken