I had felt for years that my heart was hardened. so many of the songs we sing on Sundays reflect the need to have a soft, pliable and somewhat gooey heart and then the fruits of the spirit there of from having said gooey heart. I remember praying robotic-ly that God would soften my hard heart, and I would feel nothing while praying that. I hated that, I have always felt like I was a lesser Christian, Pharaoh himself, and it created this secret life of shame that I’m not enough. I’d see the hands raised high, the head slung back in reckless abandon as they sung to GOD and I wanted that! Even in high school, I remember feeling weird, why didn’t my hands raise up so naturally like Autum, Kristen and Hannah’s did? I tried to force it, I’d awkwardly hold my hands up, but my eyes would be open… do I look natural? I’d stiffen my naturally swaying hips, Arkansan style knee-jerking and head bopping, then I’d realize it and awkwardly start up again but my rhythm was off. I’d dance off beat for a minute then give up and realize God would have to feel praised with my arms crossed comfortably at my side. I wasn’t hiding, that was just comfie, like Indian Style for my arms.
I don’t even try anymore, I’m not a hands in the air type of worshiper, I accept it, God still loves me and all. My songs sung to him are still beautiful in the whole ‘make a joyful noise unto the Lord all ye earth’ kind of way. He just made me with a unique quirk for some reason. I prayed for years that God would soften my heart to him, to others, to his spirit in general, etc. Most of the time I didn’t know exactly what I was praying for because it’s hard to without knowing what you are missing.
This last year and a half, almost 2 years has been God surgically removing everything that stood between us. Cutting some fat here, part of the sin tumor there… snippity snip snip. God was working over time on me. Finally, he cleared a path to my heart and took it into his hands, still beating.
Then he jerked it from my open, gaping chest, arteries and blood go everywhere! Splatter on the wall… and I’m flat lined, I’m dead. But God smiles from above, the master surgeon knows what he is doing although it doesn’t make sense to me. He then begins to re-attach my new and improved heart, held by his healing hands, cleansed of the cancerous tumors it had been full of. A new heart, a soft one.
I feel different. The refiners fire is hard to go through unscathed. The fire burns away the impurities and the bible doesn’t usually talk about growth in pleasant terms. The walls I had so desperately and haphazardly built to protect myself are gone, but now I have a high tech force field. Which, I have to say, is so much cooler although it doesn’t always feel safe. Things are different, my perspective is different. I don’t care about some things, but in other ways I care for the first time. My heart is lighter, less of a burden to tow around in my little red wagon of a life. It isn’t fun, it isn’t easy, I am still sore, my stitches are still there irritating me daily. It’s ugly to look at, this scar across my body. But then there is the hope, the beautiful hope and the peace. He says that is transcends all human understanding and it really does. Sorry, I can’t tell you about it, I can just say it’s oozing out my pores like sweat on a sunny August day in Arkansas with 100% humidity. Plain lovely.
That doesn’t mean the pain is gone, God is just the Novocain right now as I heal… if that is even an example I should use. This last Sunday when we were singing about having a soft heart, I couldn’t keep the “I’m in on this racket now” smirk from appearing on my face.