Larry lived alone, two doors down from us in our complex. He was quiet but friendly. I didn’t know much about him other than he had elderly parents who visited occasionally and that he worked for a major car manufacturer. I could count on seeing him outside on a sunny day, detailing his sporty coupe. His car was his baby. So, I found it out of the ordinary when he kept leaving his dome light on over the course of a week. Concerned it would run down his battery, I knocked on his door to tell him, but he never answered.
A few days later, my husband and I were settling in for the evening when we heard a loud, indistinguishable noise. Next door, between us and Larry, lived an unruly teenager. “What is that kid doing now?” I asked. Something about that noise left me unsettled and inclined to keep looking out our windows. My husband thought I might be paranoid until he saw S.W.A.T. officers using his vehicle as a shield, cautiously approaching Larry’s door with their guns drawn. Larry had barricaded himself in his loft and supposedly had hostages. “No, not Larry,” I thought. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” But he had. The last time I ever saw him was the last time we would ever see Larry again.
To the day we moved, I couldn’t bear looking at his place. It had been renovated and rented quickly, but it was still upsetting to think I had stood on his doorstep just days before he ended his life, wanting to help but couldn’t. I believe that dim dome light was one of his final flares for help.
Are you sending subtle signals for help but still believe no one cares and no one notices? I can assure you Jesus is always in your corner. He’s in the neighbor two doors down. He’s in the co-worker you see five days a week. He’s in the pastor at the church you pass every day on your way home. And he’s with you in your most troubled moments. Jesus has already fought for your life and won, but when he knocks on the door of your heart, will you answer?