Last year I attended a retreat where we spent a weekend on one particular verse: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me” (Revelation 3:20). Once upon a time I would have laughed at you if you told me you could spend more than 45 seconds on a single verse, but there is a particular beauty in pulling out single verses from the Bible and dissecting them.

Like the beginning of this verse: “Here I am!” What a proclamation! Jesus doesn’t just knock tentatively at your door – he announces himself clearly, so there’s no doubt about who’s outside, waiting to be let in. His presence is as powerful as that statement. And yet somehow those three words are a question, too - “Here I am… will you open the door?” Isn’t that what he’s asking?

But we don’t like to let him in. We all know why, don’t we? Our house is dirty! We’re not prepared! Jesus I love you, but let me just clean up a little first, will you? Come back later. Later I’ll be ready for you.

Which is ridiculous – we’ll never be clean enough. Can you picture your life in a room? What would be on your walls? You see, we don’t tend to worship golden calves anymore, but we still hold onto idols with everything we have. And ultimately we plaster our lives with those idols, those things we place above God.

My walls would be full of electronics. I can admit it – I sometimes worship technology over God. If I told you how many hours I spent watching Netflix this past week, you’d probably pass out, but I couldn’t find five minutes to spend with God. So if I was picturing my room, there would be golden TVs on the walls, music blaring, cell phones littered over the floor. My Bible would be in my room, but in the dusty corner where it’s easy to forget it exists.

All our rooms look different because we all have different struggles. Maybe yours has a bar, or inappropriate pictures, or a bunch of school books – idols can literally be anything. And we need to clean up the dirt and grime before we let Jesus in, right? We can’t let him see [fill in the blank].

But notice he doesn’t say, “Here I am! Let me judge you for the state of your room.” He doesn’t say, “Here I am! Are you clean enough yet? I’ve been waiting a long time now.” Jesus isn’t like that. You’ve probably heard this a hundred times, but you don’t have to clean yourself up to share a meal with Jesus. And that is what he’s looking for, remember – to share a meal with you.

Let’s just a picture this. You’re sitting on your floor, surrounded by all the things you worship above Jesus, surrounded by your addictions and your shameful thoughts, and Jesus knocks on the door and says, “Here I am!”

You’re terrified. You look around, re-evaluate your life. You need to clean! So you say, “Come back later! I’m not ready!”

And yet you don’t move. You never clean. Or if you do, it’s a half-hearted cleanse. Or if it’s a deep cleanse, somehow the grime manages to sneak its way back in. Let’s face it – sometimes, we just love our mess. Our addictions. Our struggles. We want Jesus, but sometimes we want to please ourselves more.

The good news is that, hopefully, we do eventually open that door. It took years of struggle, denial, and ultimately a miracle to get me to believe that Jesus wasn’t going to walk through that door in a rage, or with a look of disappointment and/or disapproval, but eventually I did open it. And it’s crazy, because Jesus doesn’t stand in the doorway, look around the room, scoff, and walk away. Which is what we expect, because sometimes people do exactly that. They’re cool hanging out with you, but suddenly you invite them in and present them with all the garbage you hide inside, and they book it. When we are continually let down by people during our most vulnerable moments, it makes sense that we expect Jesus to be like everyone else. But he’s not. He’s so much better than that.

See, he walks in and doesn’t even look at your walls. He ignores the dust covering every item in that room, the dirt which crunches under his feet. I kind of always picture him walking in with Chinese takeout, but it doesn’t really matter what kind of food you end up sharing with Jesus. He just walks in, plops down on the floor next to you (does Jesus “plop?” I find the concept entertaining, so we’re going to stick with it), and passes you the Lo Mein. He isn’t going to judge you for the state of your room – he wants you, even with your mess.

And you share a meal with Jesus. And if you’re smart, when the meal is over, you don’t kick him out. You let him stay. And slowly, little by little, he helps you clean up your room. Which, granted, will never be an easy task, because we will continue to cling to the things that pale in comparison to Jesus. But it’s a start. The golden TVs go out with the trash one week. You grab a broom the next and start sweeping the floor. Eventually you take out your Bible, blow dust from the cover, and give it a proper place on the end table so that it is easily accessible each morning when you have your God time.

You see, we all have this irrational fear that we can’t let Jesus in until we’re clean enough for him. But Jesus is the kind of guy who will eat Chinese takeout on the floor with you. And the more time you spend with Jesus, the more you’ll actually want to be clean (I know it seems a little farfetched, but take it from someone who has lived it – it really does happen).

So when the knock comes at your door, no matter what is in your room, open it. Please open it. Don’t leave Jesus standing outside; don’t let that door stand in the way of the greatest thing that will ever happen in your life. Jesus doesn’t need you to be clean – he makes you clean. So don’t let fear stop you from living the life you were meant to live, from being the person you were meant to be. You won’t regret letting him in.