O come, thou Key of David, come
And open wide our heav’nly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Very early in the story of mankind, our door to Paradise was double-locked and bolted. Cool was the day when God walked among us; brief our stay in garden blessedness. Alas, on the other side of our truest happiness, our truest life, our truest home, we now live.

Our exile in Adam seemed all but final:

He drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and a flaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life. (Genesis 3:24)

Even if we could cross oceans, climb mountains, cut through forests, and finally arrive at the spot where life (so long denied us) grew guarded, what then? As we neared the entrance to man’s infamous exit, the angel’s unsmiling appearance would leave no man in danger of courage.

“Fear not” is the angels’ consistent salutation to men in the Scriptures. Even when angels brought glad tidings with songs of Christ’s birth, the shepherds were “filled with great fear.” Who dares to approach the tree of life when cherubim handle a blade dipped in flame?

Vision Before the Door

Try to imagine that interaction.

“Our friends,” we might have stuttered, “we have come from the far east to reclaim the inheritance of our father, Adam.”

“We are no friend of sinners,” answers a mighty angel.

“But surely, you will have compassion on those grieving their father’s failure.”

“Your hands too are stained,” he counters, unmoved. “You’ve lifted your soul to what is false; how shall you stand before God in his holy place?”

“But we have recognized our guilt and renounce it! Let us be but doorkeepers in his house, and we shall be content.”

“Even his angels he charges with folly; the heavens are not pure in his sight. Can you, a man, be clean before your Maker?”

“But we’ve come all this way,” one sputters.

“You shall not yield to him or listen to him, nor shall your eye pity him, nor shall you spare him, nor shall you conceal him.”

Our door to eternal life, eternal happiness, eternal communion with God was locked; none in heaven or on earth could open it.

Key of David

But then the Key we hardly dared to hope for came from heaven at last. At Advent, the Lord Jesus Christ comes to answer a question only wise souls ask: How can we partake of eternal life?

“He traded fortunes for flesh, splendors for skin, his life for ours.”

The fourth verse of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” answers that Jesus came to “open wide our heavenly home,” taking possession of “the keys of Death and Hades” through his death and resurrection (Revelation 1:18). He came to a world barred from heaven and opened the door otherwise forever shut. He unlocks goodwill to men; his undoing on the cross unbolts heaven for all who believe upon him.

Jesus came to turn the knob of salvation and fling wide the door that all who would may enter and never be cast out.

Before the Cherubim

Return to our scene before the cherubim. As we turn away in despair and doom, other angels come singing,

Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. (Luke 2:10–11)

Then one like a son of man comes and stands before us, enthroned between the wings of the cherubim. “My sons and daughters, where are you going? Leave those rags where you stand; relinquish doubt and sorrow. Come to me, all who thirst and hunger.”

“But sir,” one among us responds. “I am a sinner. I have come all this way in vain. I have expected happiness and have won only hell. This is the only door, and this door is not made for sinners.”

“I am the door,” reassures the voice. “If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture” (John 10:9).

“Sir, we perceive you are a prophet and see the crook in your staff; you are a Shepherd. But what is your staff to this flaming sword and army of angels? How can you lead us past? God must be just, and this spells our misery. How . . .”

Before we could say more, the man resounds,

Enter by me, whoever will.
Come, feast, take your fill.
Take my robe, my ring, my name;
Enter through the bloody frame.

During Advent, we remember the one who came to retrieve the key of David, the one who opens and no one will shut, who shuts and no one opens (Revelation 13:7). He was born at Bethlehem that he might go down into the grave for keys to open a way for sinners. “I died, and behold I am alive forevermore,” he declares, “and I have the keys of Death and Hades” (Revelation 1:18). He traveled over land and sea, from heaven to earth, from greatest riches to humiliation and poverty — that we might become rich. He traded fortunes for flesh, splendors for skin, his life for ours.

He has prepared a place for us through the new and living way that he opened through his own flesh (Hebrews 10:20). He himself is the Way, the Door, the Key. As you go into Paradise through him by faith, go in boldly. Follow him. Trust him. Persevere in him. His first Advent guaranteed his promise, “To the one who conquers I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God” (Revelation 2:7). His second Advent will fulfill it.