Burrowing animals often make homes for themselves with not only an entrance but also an exit. The animals know that they might need that back door some day.
Lakes and ponds receive their water from contributing tributaries upstream and they have at least one, if not many runoff points downstream that keep the water level consistently stable.
Public spaces must always provide for emergency egress, and depending on the nature of the business a space may need to provide for numerous entry and exit points in order to handle the flow and safety of its customers.
My apartment has its entrance from the hallway. My door is 2B, second floor, last door on the right. It also has a rear exit off of the kitchen that leads out onto the fire escape.
I, myself, have an entry point into life, my birth, and a definite exit point, my certain death. I must face the inevitability of my own coming and going, it is simply a fact of life.
This world and the view I take of it assumes these kinds of entrances and exits, beginnings and ends, ins and outs, if you will. This linear progression through space, the world, and life is fundamental to my understanding of my existence.
What of my spiritual life? It would seem to follow this same pattern. I had my moment of spiritual rebirth, a wonderful beginning to an eternal life. At that moment I was welcomed into heaven by my heavenly Father and His joyous hosts of angels. My sins were forgiven. I was washed clean. I was given new life in the body of Christ. I was set on a new course.
I have since fallen from that course. I have sinned again. I walked off the path of life and into the shadows of the valley once again. I now despair that I, who was forgiven of everything and given the greatest of help to overcome a sinful past, have now fallen into that past once again and see no help of recovering my former place.
I hear the stories of the born again. I rejoice at the forgiveness received and the power given to overcome the greatest of sinful adversity. I remember my own triumph. And then I immediately feel the pain of my own defeat. Tears stream down my face. I beat my fist into the bed I am kneeling beside and I scream at God and ask Him, “What about now? Why won’t You help me overcome my sin? Why did the help stop at the beginning? Why won’t you take away my sin now? I can’t do it alone.”
I slowly get up from my knees and wipe my eyes, and I hear Him speaking through a song playing on the radio in my kitchen. “I make all things new,” He says. Each day I can be made new, each day can be my new beginning, my new entrance into His heavenly kingdom. Each day I can turn and repent, and be taken again into His arms.
I had seriously underestimated the work of Jesus upon the cross. I had limited his power to a static understanding of time. I had assumed that His work was once and for all, and that meant that His gift to us was once and for all. But my experience told me that I needed to be saved just as much today as I did those many years ago. And I thought that that was no longer possible.
His work is not static though. His work is alive and active, even today. His gift can be mine with as much power today as it had for me when I first entered His door. I can be reborn each day of my life, there is no limit. I can repent and turn to God my Savior each day, each hour, and each minute if I need Him; and He will transform me once again.
There is no longer any exit for those who believe, but only an entrance. His is an eternal In Door, revolving, ever presenting itself to His children that they may always find His grace sufficient for their every need.
Thank you, Father, for your patience and your love of me, the sinner. Thank you for this greatest of all gifts, my life in You.