When Olson said this, my mind flashed to a mid-nineteenth-century painting, The Light of the World, by William Holman Hunt. It had been my father’s favorite; after he died, I acquired a framed copy for my home office. The artwork depicts Jesus—a majestic cloak draped over His dirty garments, a golden crown placed over top of that excruciating coronet of thorns—standing outside a door. He is knocking. The door, as my dad pointed out to me when I was a little boy, has no handle on the outside. Jesus cannot open it. He needs to be let in. This is the nature of Christ’s relationship to man: He
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