“I heard Jesus, He drank wine. And I bet we’d get along just fine. He can calm the storm and heal the blind, and I bet He’d understand a heart like mine.”
It’s strange, you know. How the funny things in life become somewhat sad the older you get, as if the happy moments are what really bring back the whirlwind of emotions, not the truly sad ones. The human heart doesn’t always care to recall the terrible memories, the straightforward hurtful ones. It seems to pick the ones that make us happy, and the pain of remembrance is delivered through those brief happy recollections of what once was…
I feel like we’ve been lied to over the course of childhood/current life. Time doesn’t necessarily heal everything. The loss of a loved one, a broken marriage, a crumbling family, a shattered heart… Time doesn’t heal those. Time is only the playing field that we are all forced to play the game in, adhering to its rules and regulations only because we have no alternative. But there is healing for all these issues– but the healing is almost more of an acceptance than a getting-over-it, and it’s only bestowed once acceptance surfaces.
I have quite the heart… it’s gross. It’s pathetic. It’s full of strength. It is weak. It’s hideous. It’s beautiful… It’s wild. And it only makes sense that the One person who carved and placed this heart in my chest is also the only One who can really hold onto it. See, I keep dropping it. And it keeps breaking. I think it’s time to let my Maker truly hold the heart He gave me. He’s the only One who really understands a heart like mine.
So maybe the healing comes with the locking-in-place of a pieced together heart– accepting the fact that your heart isn’t always right. No matter how strongly it feels, no matter how deep the desires go… your heart is not what you follow (yeah, I just disagreed with the “follow your heart” slogan of Disney movies, chick flicks, and all other love stories). You follow the Creator of your heart– He leads us in truly the RIGHT way. Feelings don’t override his omnipotence… it’s a good attempt by Satan to try and fool us, and, sadly, he wins the fight a good bit. But feelings aren’t what constitute truth.
An Airstream State of Mind… I’m afraid I’ve gotten mind and heart a bit confused. I’ve been going about with my heart in hand on this road trip, and that heart has been at the wheel the whole time. But that’s not okay– it’s not right. My heart doesn’t belong on an aimless road trip. I do, but not necessarily my heart. It belongs in the hands of the Father, set firmly in place behind the gates of his fingertips. The strongest hands in the world won’t break it.
As I travel on, I’m changing a few driving habits of mine. My heart has a destination, and it’s currently there. I steer this airstream based on a map that I can’t even see… but I acknowledge it all the same. My God owns that map, and he calls the shots. And I know the more I grow in Him, the more my heart will want the same things as His. Time’s not mine to use– yes, it’s a thief I’d sure love to rob a time or two– but it’s not mine. An airstream driver’s time table is quite different than most… And I drive knowing that.
It’s Christmas time… and I think I have the perfect gift ready now. Christ gave himself– he left his throne in Perfection and came to a world where he was hated (a world he created by the way… and they still hated their own Creator). He lived a life of pain and strength, a warrior’s life. He died the most gruesome death imaginable, sovereign at all times. And yet He knew his plan, and He followed through with every inch of it. So, for Christmas this year, in honor of the birth of my heart’s Maker, I am giving my heart back to Him. I’m setting it back in its original resting place… at least until I know where he calls it next.
I end this in words that only Miranda Lambert could have put so beautifully…
“I’ll fly away from it all someday. These are the days that I will remember when my name’s called on the role. He’ll meet me with two long-stem glasses and make a toast to me comin’ home.”
With a heart that’s gone home,