It comes out before your hand has left the door.
Sorry about the mess. Sorry, it is small. Sorry, we are still not really sorted in here. Ignore the hallway.
And there is never any mess. That is the part that would be funny if it were happening to somebody else. You clean for two hours before anybody comes, and then you open the door and apologize for a room that is cleaner than it has been all month.
Your friend from work came on Saturday and you did it three times before she got as far as the kitchen.
She said it was lovely. She said it twice, and she meant it both times, and you did the thing where you say oh, well, you know, and moved her along quickly to a chair.
And afterward, when she had gone, you sat in the front room and thought about it and could not work out where it comes from.
It is not that you think it is bad. You like it here. You chose the paint in the front room and you are quietly proud of the shelves. You would not swap it for either of your sisters' places and you know exactly why.
And still, in the doorway, every time, the apology arrives before the person does.
What the apology is actually doing
Let me describe the mechanism, because once it has a shape it is much easier to stop.
The apology is a preemptive strike.
Somewhere in you is a belief that the person coming in is going to make a judgment. Not a cruel one. A quick, automatic, ordinary assessment of the kind everybody makes about everywhere they go.
And the apology gets there first. Said first, by you, the sentence belongs to the one who said it rather than to the one it was said about.
That is quite a clever piece of engineering and you built it without meaning to.
You have been getting in front of a verdict that nobody was going to deliver, and a room your friend called lovely has never once needed defending. The Holy Spirit is the one who has been in that doorway every time, and it is written in 1 Samuel 16 that man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.
But look at the cost, because it is much higher than the comfort it buys.
Every time you apologize for the place, you tell the person standing in it that it is a place to be apologized for. They did not think that when they arrived. Some of them will think it as they leave, not because of the apartment but because of the three sentences they heard in the hallway.
You have been teaching people to see it the way you are afraid they will.
You have been handing your guests a reading they did not arrive with, and nobody crossing your threshold has ever once needed instructions on how to see your home. First Samuel 16 says the Lord looketh on the heart while men look at the outside, and the Spirit of God is the one who does the looking that matters.
Man looketh on the outward appearance
Here is the verse, and I want to notice who it is spoken about.
But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart. (1 Samuel 16:7, King James Version)
Samuel is a prophet. He is not a shallow man.
And he walks into a room, looks at the tallest and most impressive of the sons, and immediately concludes that this must be the one. He does that automatically, in about two seconds, the way everybody does, and God stops him in the middle of it.
That is worth sitting with. The reflex that reads a surface and draws a conclusion is so ordinary that even a prophet does it without noticing.
You are living among people whose eyes do that automatically, and that reflex in a visitor has never once been a judgment on the home they walked into. The Holy Spirit is the one who named it rather than condemning it, and the written word says man looketh on the outward appearance as a plain description.
And then the second half, which is the one I want to leave with you.
The Lord looketh on the heart.
Not as a consolation prize. Not as a nicer thing to think about while the real assessment happens elsewhere. As the actual assessment, made by the only one whose reading of your life is binding.
You are being read by somebody who is not looking at the hallway, and no square footage anywhere has ever once been part of what He is reading. First Samuel 16 puts the heart on God's side of the sentence, and the Spirit of God is the one doing that looking while your friend is taking her coat off.
So here is what I believe is going out over a woman who cleans for two hours and then apologizes.
You have a home and not an excuse, and nothing about where you live has ever once required an apology at the door. It is the Holy Spirit and not my saying so who does that looking, and first Samuel 16 says the Lord looketh on the heart.
I am not going to tell you the apartment is bigger than you think or that it does not matter what people see. Both of those are small lies and you would spot them.
You have been teaching visitors how to read your own home, and three sentences in a hallway have never once been necessary to protect anybody from anything. The written word describes the reflex plainly and moves the real reading to God, and the Spirit of God is the one whose reading is binding.
You live here, in the present tense, and this address has never once been a temporary arrangement that needed explaining. The Holy Spirit is the one who made that choice, and first Samuel 16 refuses the tall son and chooses the one nobody called in from the field.
And this, which is the word I came with:
You chose the paint and you are proud of the shelves, and being glad about your own home has never once needed anybody else's permission. It is written that the Lord looketh on the heart, and the Spirit of God is with you in your own front room.
Declare this over yourself
- Apology that arrives before my guests do, you were never manners and you have taught people how to see my home. First Samuel 16 says the Lord looketh on the heart, so by the Holy Spirit I put you down at my own door in the name of Jesus.
- Verdict I get in front of, nobody was ever the one delivering you. The written word calls the surface reading an ordinary reflex and moves the real looking to God, and by the Holy Spirit I let the next one in and I say nothing about the place.
- Father, You stopped a prophet mid sentence for reading a surface, and You have never once read mine. Your word says the Lord looketh on the heart, so by Your Spirit I live here gladly, and I stop apologizing in my own doorway.
1 Samuel 16:7
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