“Knock, knock, knock.” My heart racing, I scramble to look out the peep hole to see who is paying an unexpected visit. With a wild glance at my surroundings, my mind confirms obvious evidence that my house is in complete disarray. I whisper to myself, Messy people live here!
Do you (like me) become instantly frazzled when someone shows up unannounced to your messy house?
Agggghhh! The visitor is a neighbor from down the road. Or maybe a co-worker. Perhaps it’s that woman from church I expressed I would pray for. But now all I want to do is pretend I’m not home. I couldn’t possibly allow someone to see first-hand that I have a messy house on occasion (or two, or three—or more).
My only thought is to keep my visitor out of my home, lest I be exposed for the less-than-pristine housekeeper I am. The words attack my mind again. Messy people live here.
(By the way, why do we think we’re the only ones who ever leave dishes in the sink?!)
Reflecting on my reaction to periodic surprise visitors, a twinge of pain stabs my heart.
Don’t I do this with Jesus?
I push Him away, shut the blinds . . . close the door.
“I can’t let you in, Jesus. A messy person lives here. I don’t want you to see my mess!”
Sometimes I’m embarrassed by my lack of obedience. I’m ashamed of my actions and become discouraged by thoughts I’ve allowed to weigh me down. I get weary of fighting the enemy and sometimes losing the battle.
Sigh. Can you relate?
In my desire to present myself as perfect to God, I forget a crucial fact:
God is the only one who is perfect. And He loves me, and you, with all of our imperfections.
2 Corinthians 12:9: “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
Y’all . . . hear this: We don’t get all cleaned up to take a bath.
Jesus came to be with us in our mess—to encourage, comfort, guide, and protect. He desires to work with us on a tough stain that needs some lengthy scrubbing. To polish a rough surface to a smoother finish. To tidy up a corner (or perhaps an entire room) that’s been disheveled for too long. All so He can ultimately deliver us from our mess.
Jesus is a hang-out-with-you-all-day-in-your-pjs-with-unwashed-hair kind of friend. He doesn’t insist on organized closets. He doesn’t demand spotless floors. It’s okay if dust bunnies are reproducing under the couch and none of your Tupperware lids match each other.
God doesn’t judge a messy house.
You can come to Him just as you are. Little by little, He will help you do some much-needed cleaning and tidying up. You just need to open the door for Him.
Your mess is never too big for God.
When you hear His knock—open the door, let Him in, hand Him a broom. Invite Him into your mess.
You’ll be glad you did!
Father God, I ask you to remind me that nothing in my life is too big for you to handle. Thank you for allowing me to come to you with the broken, messy pieces of my life and lay them at your feet. Amen.