Messy Room v. Messy Heart

When he still lived with us, one night I knocked lightly and popped my head into my son Jake’s room.

My “Goodnight, Son,” stopped before the words left my lips.

His room was a disaster area. Stacks of magazines, motorcycle paraphernalia, and a week’s worth of socks and underwear covered the floor. He had one little bitty space on his huge desk that wasn’t covered with paper or doodads or books. The bed was disheveled, and the window blinds were all cattywampus.

How could a kid whose brain organized data to get straight As in engineering live in this chaos?

When his face met mine, he wasn’t smiling. “Mom, got a minute to talk?”

“Sure,” I said. “Want to come downstairs?”

“Can you just come in here?”

I hesitated.

See, I am not messy.

…My spices are alphabetized.

…My closet is color organized by sleeve length.

…The coins in my car are heads up, facing the windshield.

…I can tell you what’s going to be for dinner a week from Tuesday.

Being in his room made my brain freeze and my hands twitch.

“Check your heart”

I noticed his T-shirt as I picked my way around the obstacles.

It read: “Organized people are just too lazy to look for stuff.”

I wondered how much a dumpster would cost as I pushed the clutter on his bed aside to make a spot to sit down.

As I listened to his troubles, I struggled to concentrate on the conversation because I was still focused on the mess.

I did my best to dispense wisdom to get his axis rebalanced, and then I made a hasty exit from his messy man cave.

Walking down the hall, I grumbled to myself about the decade-lost battle with him over the disorderliness of his room.

I had just hit my grumblin’ stride when I experienced an unexpected check in my spirit.

Slowing down, I recognized that voice immediately. It was God.

That’s how I feel in your heart, Robyn. You are so busy being tidy and organized that I can’t get any space for us to talk.

Ouch!

Need a good cleaning?

My son’s bedroom was a mess, but the condition of his heart was tender and compassionate.

My house was spotless, but my heart’s condition was in need of a good cleaning!

Which would I rather have?

A heart that welcomes God’s presence or a house that’s shipshape?

I’m sure it’s possible to have both, but when I have to choose, it’s going to be a heart that welcomes God’s presence.

How about you?

Does the condition of your heart make God feel welcome to come in for a chat,

or

are you so busy with life that there is no space?

Verse

Prayer

Holy Spirit, thank you for your gentle correction. More than anything, I want to be open to you. In those moments when I crowd you out, help me see clearly and readjust my heart to welcome you in. In Jesus’ name, amen.