Last week, I wrote about unconditional surrender. Since then, a memory from more than forty years ago has been lingering in my thoughts. When I was in high school, I memorized a dramatic reading for a speech competition. I can no longer remember its title or exact wording, but I’ve never forgotten the picture it painted. It was about a heart becoming a home for Christ. As He was welcomed into each room, things began to change. But there was one room, one locked door, that the owner desperately wanted to keep for himself. The story reminds me of Robert Boyd Munger’s My Heart, Christ’s Home, although I’ve never been able to find the exact reading I memorized. So, with that old memory and last week's thoughts about surrender still fresh in my mind, I've attempted to recreate something of the message that impacted me so deeply all those years ago. Perhaps it will speak to your heart as that long-ago reading spoke to mine. The Final Room It started out so beautifully. When I first invited You into my heart and life, Jesus, I wanted to show You everything. I remember walking into the study, one of my favorite rooms of my mind. We looked at the bookshelves together. I watched Your face as You looked at the books and the magazines I had lying around. Most of them were wonderful, but then I felt this sudden, sharp sting of shame as my eyes landed on a few. I wanted to hide them, but You just looked at me with so much grace. You helped me pack up the things that shouldn’t have been there, and You filled the shelves with Your truth instead.
Things continued to go well as each day we gradually went from room to room. It felt incredible as You helped me remove the things that didn’t go along with being Your child. Each day we grew closer as I rushed down to meet you in the mornings so we could spend time together in Your Word before I had to dash off and complete my daily tasks. Months passed. We’d cleared most of the rooms of my heart, and I felt happier than I’d ever been. But then, one day, we reached the end of the hallway. And You stopped right in front of a small, heavy door.
My heart completely sank. I had tried very hard to forget about that room. Or maybe, if I’m being honest, I was just hoping You wouldn’t notice it. You looked at the door, then You looked at me, and You gently reached for the handle. But it wouldn’t turn. It was locked. I remember the panic that hit me. I told You, “No, Lord. Not that room. That’s my private room. It’s just a small space. I’ve kept it locked away for years. It’s my own private corner. Can’t You just have the rest of the house? Look at how much I’ve given You! Isn’t the rest of it enough?” But You didn’t argue with me. You just stood there. And in Your eyes, I didn’t see anger or reproach. I just saw this profound, aching sadness. You whispered to my heart that You didn’t come to live in part of my life. You came to be Lord over all of it. You wouldn’t force the door open. You were waiting for me. For a while, I tried to go on as though nothing had happened. I still met You in the mornings. I still opened my Bible and bowed my head in prayer. But something had changed. I missed the sweetness of our fellowship. I missed the peace I had known before. And yet, every time I thought about that little room, I could feel my fingers tightening around the key. I knew it was full of my hidden sins, resentments, selfish desires, the things I want to keep control over. Why was this so difficult? Why couldn’t I just let it go? I wanted everything You had to offer, but I wasn’t willing to give You everything I had. And the longer I held on to that little key, the heavier it seemed to become. I realized right then how foolish I was being. I was trying to keep secrets from the One who already knows everything about me, and loves me anyway. I was holding onto my hidden chains, refusing to let the Saviour set me completely free. I didn’t want any more secrets between us. I didn’t want to hold anything back from You anymore. Slowly, I loosened my grip on the key. “Lord,” I whispered, “You know what’s behind that door. You know why I’ve kept it locked and how afraid I am to open it. I don’t want to hide from You anymore. I don’t want to bargain with You. I don’t want to offer You everything except the one thing I most want to keep. I want You to be Lord of every part of my life. Not just of the parts of my life that are easy to surrender, or of the things I no longer want. But of everything, even this.”
And with trembling fingers, I reached out my hand. “Lord, all that I am, and all that I have, belongs to You. Here’s the key.” After all these years of having Christ living in me, I still need to remind myself to not only examine myself, but also to ask the Lord to examine me. I want Him to show me where the rooms of my heart need cleaning if they have begun to fill up again with the clutter of this world and the deceitfulness of sin.
I’m thankful the Lord is patient with me as He continues His work in my heart. Sometimes He shows me something new that needs to change, and sometimes He reminds me of something I thought I’d already dealt with. My prayer is that I will always have a willing heart when He shows me something that doesn’t belong. After all, the One asking for the key is the One who loves me most. Blessings, P.S. Is there a room in your heart you’ve been reluctant to let the Lord examine? Remember, He already knows what’s inside. You can trust Him with the key.
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