A few mornings ago, I was sitting with the Lord before sunrise.
The house was quiet.
Outside, everything was dark.
I was praying and reading Scripture, asking God for wisdom about some decisions I needed to make.
Then I heard a noise beside me.
Thump.
I looked up.
Nothing.
A few minutes later:
Thump.
This time I switched on the light and found the culprit: a fairly large, moss-colored frog clinging to the glass patio door, trying his best to get inside.
For the next half hour, while I spent time with God, the frog backed up, jumped, slid, bonked his head, tried the side, tried underneath, and threw himself against the glass again and again.
He could see something attractive.
He wanted in.
But he was blocked.
After half an hour, I decided to help.
I went to get a floor rag so I could pick him up and toss him off the patio and into the field where he belonged: water, insects, shelter, and everything else a frog needs to thrive.
As I walked away, I wondered aloud whether God might be trying to tell me something.
When I returned, the frog was gone.
No dramatic rescue.
No flying frog.
No intervention needed.
Somehow, while I was away, he had found his way back into the world he was made for.
And then a thought struck me.
While the frog was throwing himself against the glass, help was already on the way.
He never knew it.
He could not see it.
But someone was already moving toward him.
Perhaps that is true more often than we realize.
<!–
–>
The Longing Underneath Everything
That frog reminded me of Psalm 24.
The psalm begins with a breathtaking declaration:
“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.”
Everything belongs to God.
The forests and the rivers.
The cities and the nations.
The people who know Him and the people who have never heard His name.
The earth is not abandoned territory.
It is God’s creation. And from the beginning, God has wanted to dwell with His people.
The Bible begins in a garden.
A garden on a mountain.
A place where heaven and earth overlap.
A place of communion and thriving.
A place where everything works as it was meant to work.
Then sin enters the story.
Trust is broken.
The gates close.
And ever since, human beings have been pressing against the glass.
Every longing for peace.
Every search for meaning.
Every restless attempt to find home.
Underneath it all lies the question Psalm 24 asks:
“Who may ascend the mountain of the Lord? Who may stand in His holy place?”
We sense what we want. But how do we get there?
<!–
–>
<!–
–>
The Surprise of Jacob
The answer sounds impossible.
The one who enters God’s presence must have clean hands and a pure heart.
No deceit.
No idols.
Integrity all the way through.
Then the psalm surprises us:
“Such is the generation of those who seek Him, who seek Your face—even Jacob.”
Jacob.
The deceiver.
The manipulator.
The struggler.
The man who spent much of his life getting things wrong. And yet he kept seeking God.
He wrestled.
He failed.
He limped.
He grew.
And in the end, he was changed.
I find more of myself in Jacob than I would like to admit. Thankfully, God is not looking for perfect people. He is looking for people who keep seeking His face.
While Jacob was running, scheming, wrestling, and failing, God was already moving toward him, kind of like the persistent frog trying to get into the wrong habitat.
Before Jacob sought God, God was seeking Jacob.
Before the frog knew help was coming, help was already on the way. That is grace.
That is the gospel hidden inside Psalm 24.
<!–
–>
A Sobering Reminder
Later that same morning, someone found another frog of about the same size in another part of the house.
This one had not found its way back out. It was petrified.
Different frog. Same morning.
So unusual. It caught my attention.
Some creatures find their way home. Others get what they wanted, only to discover it was not life.
That is why guidance matters. That is why seeking God matters. That is why grace matters.
The King does not simply open doors. He leads us toward the right ones.
<!–
–>
Three Psalms, One King
Then Psalm 24 takes an unexpected turn.
The question changes.
It stops asking:
“Who may ascend?”
and begins asking:
“Who is this King of Glory?”
At first those sound like two different people.
One is the worshiper trying to climb the mountain.
The other is the King marching through the gates.
But the Book of Psalms answers the mystery slowly.
In Psalm 22 we meet the suffering King:
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”
In Psalm 23 we meet the Shepherd King:
“The Lord is my shepherd.”
And in Psalm 24 we meet the conquering King:
“Lift up your heads, O gates, that the King of Glory may come in.”
The suffering King.
The Shepherd King.
The King of Glory.
One King.
Jesus is the righteous One who may ascend. Jesus is the King of Glory who may enter. And because He entered, the door now stands open for those who seek Him.
Even for Jacob. Even for me. Even for you.
<!–
–>
The Gates Are Still Opening
The gates in Psalm 24 are bigger than the gates of Jerusalem.
They are the gates of human hearts.
The gates of families.
The gates of villages and cities.
The gates of nations that have never heard the good news.
The King of Glory is still entering.
Still restoring.
Still healing.
Still calling.
Still opening doors that have been shut for generations.
This is why mission matters.
Not because denominations are building kingdoms.
Not because we have all the answers.
But because the earth is the Lord’s.
Every river community in the Amazon belongs to Him.
Every child belongs to Him.
Every language belongs to Him.
Every nation belongs to Him.
Mission begins with a simple conviction:
The people who have not yet found their way home still belong to the King. And He longs to help them find their way.
<!–
–>
One More Step
Perhaps you are in a season like that frog.
You can see where you want to go, but not how to get there.
You keep bumping into invisible barriers.
If so, take heart.
Keep seeking His face.
Keep taking the next faithful step.
The Creator still speaks.
The Shepherd still leads.
The King of Glory still reigns.
And He is still opening ancient doors.
Somewhere in the field behind the house, a frog is exactly where he belongs.
He did not get a dramatic rescue.
He simply found his way one small step at a time.
And all along, help was already on the way.
<!–
–>
In Belem, we met up with Clenildo and Angelita (photo) and with other leaders as we traveled to Sao Paulo for the South American Vineyard leaders conference.
<!–
–>
A Prayer
Lord Jesus,
The earth is Yours. You have never stopped coming after Your creation, and I am more grateful for that now than I was when I was younger and thought I understood more.
Thank You for being the suffering King, the Good Shepherd, and the King of Glory, all at once, all for us.
Teach us to seek Your face the way Jacob did. Stubborn. Limping. Unwilling to let go.
When we cannot see the whole path, give us grace for the next step.
And now I am not really praying for myself. I am praying for the ones still pressing against the glass.
The river communities that have not heard.
The young leader who is tired.
The person whose vision is growing dim.
Reach the ones who do not yet know You are already on Your way to them.
