I know three women who clean houses for a living. Every time I’m cleaning, I get a mental picture of these three and stand amazed at the energy they have for their work. I struggle to clean a single house well; they clean one after another.

But cleaning in manageable doses can be very satisfying. It isn’t the scrubbing, kneeling, reaching or lifting that gratifies but the end result. After putting a messy room in order, each time I walk through, I get a little kick.

Today I tackled our disheveled cottage. Before my grandbabies came, I went through and babyproofed the house, although once they arrived, we steadily took it to higher levels (literally). Today, however, I reversed the process, bringing everything back down to its former place.

Scrubbing food off the upholstery, raisins off the carpet and toddler hand prints off the windows brought five darling faces to my mind, followed by a flood of gratitude for these precious little ones. But as my sister says, “When the grandkids come, the house takes a heavy hit.” The beauty of it, though, is that with a little soap and water, Windex and Pledge, order is restored.

Today as the wash machine worked its magic on sheets and towels, I thought about the process of internal house cleaning. My childhood Sunday school teacher often referred to the “heart” as a group of rooms, each with a door that could be locked. She urged us to unlock and open each one when Jesus came in, inviting him to inspect every room.

The teacher’s grand-finale question was, “Are there any rooms in your heart you wouldn’t want Jesus to see?” Occasionally I still ponder that. Are all my heart-rooms cleaned up and open to Jesus’ inspection, even in their shadowy corners?

Such a question is, of course, ludicrous. He can look at anything he wants to and is capable of seeing past locked doors and into dark corners. But Jesus himself used the heart’s-door analogy in his own teaching, illustrating difficult principles with this simple, everyday picture. One thing he never did, though, was demand we open up for him. Instead it was always a gentle inquiry. Whether or not we let him in is left up to us.

I long to throw open all the figurative doors of my life in response to Christ’s presence, but often there are issues to deal with first. Just as with my cleaning house today, I might say, “I can’t have company until the house is ready.”

But the beauty of letting Jesus come in even before every nook and cranny is in order is that once he gets access, he’ll enthusiastically help with the rest of our cleaning. We can fling wide every door without hesitation or nervousness, and we can do it now.

Even if we’ve run out of Windex or Pledge, it won’t matter to him.

“Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.” (Revelation 3:20)