I read this today and it made me think about my own faith. Sometimes I know that I want the Savior to come to me. I want Him to make the decision and take it out of my hands. Sometimes, I don't want to be the one making the choices. I just want them made for me. I just want to know that maybe I am doing it right after all. I want someone to tell me that I am good. That I am where I should be. That I am doing what He wants me to do. I want Him to come to me so that I don't have to risk choosing unwisely.
The internal me, the thinking me, the one who knows better, understands that He does not do it for me. He does not come to me without my first asking it of Him. He stands at the door and knocks. There is no handle on His side. He does not come busting in, like the hero in one of my favorite fantasy tales, He does not save me, at the last second, from the villians of my life.
But I have learned that, whenever a trial is given, whenever my heart is aching, whenever I think I have failed, there is a blessing hidden in the sorrow. He stands with me through it all. He never leaves my aching. He waits for me to ask Him in for the healing to begin. I must be the one to turn the knob and open the door toward Him. I must make the effort to invite and welcome Him into my home and my heart. He loves me, He is waiting, but the choice is mine.