British grands shoving fingertips under my door

Back in the sixties, Elvis Presley recorded a love song called, “Trying to Get to You.”

I’ve been traveling over mountains,
Even through the valleys, too.
I’ve been traveling night and day;
I’ve been running all the way,
Baby, trying to get to you.

When someone is in love, nothing can dissuade him from wanting to be with his beloved. A great illustration of this was when my friend Carole was engaged to her Reggie in 1969. She was in Florida, preparing their first apartment, and he was finishing a job 1400 miles away, in Chicago

Being separated was torture, and they spent hours on the phone. Then one day Reggie couldn’t wait another minute and jumped into his orange VW Beetle, pointing it south. Except for gasoline stops, he put pedal to the metal, “trying to get to Carole.”

While in England recently I experienced another version of the same thing. Early each morning as Katy and Hans supervised the waking, dressing, and bed-making of their 4 children, I was “hiding out” in the next room, taking advantage of a few minutes devotional time. They facilitated my efforts by telling the children, “No one disturbs MeeMee when her door is closed.”

One morning while sitting on the bed praying, I heard whispers in the hall. “She’s in there!” Suddenly 10 little fingertips appeared under my door trying to get as close to me as possible without violating the parental edict. Soon a second and third set of fingertips appeared, “trying to get to me.” I felt very loved.

All of us will make a major effort to get close to who (or what) we love. That includes both appropriate love (such as between engaged couples) and inappropriate (like drugs, for example). When love is strong, we work hard “trying to get to” whoever or whatever it is.

I’ve wondered if I am that passionate toward the Father, Son, and Spirit. Am I “trying to get to them?” Or do I succumb to excuses not to try:

I’ll do my Bible study lesson after my work is done.
There will be other seasons of life when I can pray, but not now.
I can’t manage a spiritual life because I keep getting interrupted.

Our “get to you” factor is a good chance to see where we stand with the Lord. If we never get there, we probably should reassess.

On the flip side, anything I do to get to him can’t possibly compare with the effort he made to get to me. Jesus did it in two ways, first by setting aside divinity to put on humanity, and then by willingly suffering through death. His actions said, “I’ll do anything to get to you.”

When I remember Reggie’s race to Carole or my grandchildren’s fingertips under the door, I can ask myself, “Am I trying to get to God like that?”