A Lesson For the Class

"Cleanliness is next to Godliness."

The Relief Society room filled with gentle chuckles when a sister offered this as one of the most important things we can teach our children in our homes.  In preparing the lesson I had anticipated many more answers like this-the temporal lessons taught by parents.  Instead, the ladies in the room had humbled me with long lists of values and attributes they've taught their little ones-honesty, respect, to love the scriptures.  I secretly cheered that there was at least one sister in the room who's home, like mine, has not yet become a permanent haven of heaven on earth. She continued, "If the Saviour were on the Earth today, would he want to come into your home?"

It seemed like a simple enough thought to me and we returned to listing divine characteristics all children are apparently supposed to know before they head off to school.  Then, a screeching halt.  A sister in the back row raised her hand and proclaimed, "I'm going to have to disagree with that sister over there."  She went on to voice her opinion that the Saviour is not going to care what your house looks like when he comes again.  Her intention was good, but the comment was actually quite offensive, and standing in the front of the room I could see the first sister's feelings had been hurt.  Unfortunately, I have not yet become perfect at diffusing these types of situations in class and I chose to move on to the next part of the lesson rather than make this a point of discussion.  That was two days ago and the entire event keeps playing itself out in my mind. 

Here is how I now know I should have responded:

I understand both viewpoints and don't believe either one of them is completely wrong.  The Lord has said, "Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me." (Rev. 3:20) The question needs to be not whether or not the Saviour will want to visit me, but whether or not I keep my home in order so as to feel comfortable when the Saviour comes to visit me.

Latter-Day Saints have been instructed to keep their homes like a temple. I'm sure similar sentiments are taught across many world religions.  The Holy Ghost does not dwell in unholy places, places of clutter and disorganization.  And certainly it is much more difficult to recognize the promptings of the Spirit when our minds are distracted by busyness and a backlog of responsibilities.  As with the story of Martha and Mary we need to ask ourselves if we have prepared well enough for the Saviour's arrival so that we might sit at His feet and absorb the love He brings for us.

It is important to keep an orderly home and to teach our children that importance.  Associate Professor Shirley R. Klein remarked, "Everyday activities in our homes may be simple, but because they are simple, frequent, and repeated, they offer important opportunities to build individuals and families." So where do we find the balance?  I've often been told that a home where children are loved is a home well-lived in.  In other words, there are going to be toys on the floor.  The dishes may not always be done and the beds may not always be made.  Is this the sign of a sloppy lazy family?  Not necessarily.

Look around a little further.  Is there children's artwork hanging on the refrigerator?  Are the little ones playing together while their parents help older siblings with homework?  Have the children been taught by example that there is a time and place for controlled chaos as well as for quiet and order?  Or, are the children's toys under lock and key for fear of appearing less than perfect to the visiting teachers?  Are the floors shining and the windows gleaming in the middle of the day even though the children are bored and begging for attention and love?  The Saviour will recognize our best intentions.  We need to determine whether or not our best intentions will have been enough on that great and glorious day.

Had I been brilliant enough to spout out all that to the class on Sunday, I'd either have received oodles of hallway compliments after class or been quickly released from my calling.  Either way, it has left me thinking more deeply.  Obviously the state of our earthly home is not going to be what keeps us from being embraced by the Saviour.  That will be determined by the state of our hearts in the moment He arrives. Our work until then is to strive towards living in a "house of order."

So let me ask these questions to the class:  If the Saviour came today could He dwell within your heart?  Would  the clutter and distraction make you unable to recognize the lightness of your burdens being lifted?  Is the balance between your devotion to the Lord and Jesus Christ weighted with things of this world or divine desires of the soul?

When He stands outside and knocks will you hear His voice and let Him enter in or will the rush to clean up the house keep you from opening the door?