Preparing Him Room

“Joy to the world!” we sang a couple nights ago. I love the Christmas Eve service at my church. Very traditional, very sweet. "The Lord has come." Yes, he is here! “Let earth receive her king!” Yes, earth – do so! “Let every heart prepare him room . . .”

And that stopped me short.

Because I haven’t thought about that line much, I don’t think. Prepare him room . . . every heart must do that, including mine . . .  how exactly do I prepare room in my heart for Jesus?

I have a guest room in my little house, and when I have someone coming to visit, I prepare that room for them. I dust and sweep and check for cobwebs (and random dead wasps and scorpions – I do live in Texas, y’all). I change bed linens, making the bed comfortable for sleeping in the current season. I make sure the clock is set correctly and the closet has room for their items. I also have a little bookshelf in there where I put books my guest might be interested in. (I got that from my mother-in-law, who always had books beside the bed in the guestroom where we slept. I don’t know whether that was intentionally for me, but I like to think so; one of the things we had in common was the joy of reading.)

But that wouldn’t be enough for Jesus coming to stay in my heart. Because he doesn’t come as a guest; he’s taking up permanent residence. It would be like one of the girls coming back home to live. What else do I need to do to prepare him room?

Well, for one thing, I need to empty the closet. There’s random stuff stored in there that would be in his way. Some of it, honestly, can probably be gotten rid of entirely. We hang on to so many unnecessary things from our past, don’t we? In our closets and in our hearts. Things we needed at one time but don’t anymore . . . things that once seemed so desperately important, but times have changed and we have changed.

Now, there may be a few things I could just find another spot for. It can stay in the house – just not in Jesus’ room, not in the heart. But some of that crap? No, it needs to get seriously gone.

More than that, I would also need to bring in a dresser or two for his stuff. His clothes, his books, his necessaries . . . they would need a home in my home now as well.

And you know, he may want to redecorate a bit. He might like to paint or put up some different curtains. He might have some stuff to hang on the walls.

What’s more, the rest of the house would take on a different look as well. He’d be recording his shows on the DVR. His favorite snacks would be in the cupboard and fridge. I’d have to adjust my routines a bit to accommodate his schedule, and one of the sofas would soon acquire a Jesus-shaped dent where he chose to sit all the time.

There would be his voice in the rooms, his smell in the air, his presence permeating the place. Yes, it would still be my home, but it would be his, too.

It would be a change. And that might be hard. But sometimes hard is good. When someone else moves in to take up residence, the residence changes shape to fit who that person is. And that’s as it should be.

So, I’m checking in the corners of my heart’s closets for junk that needs to be disposed of, looking again at my routines for what needs to be adjusted to make room for his presence, asking him his preference for the colors on the walls of my inner world.

Because Jesus lives there. And I want him to feel right at home.