I was driving home tonight listening to a song called "Hold my Heart" by Tenth Avenue North. It got me thinking about my own heart -- my emotional/spiritual heart. I started to wonder what condition my heart was in.
In the chorus of the song the singer tells the listener about how his heart is breaking, and he's asking God to hold it together. The picture the singer paints is a desperate one. The listener gets the impression that the singer's life is falling apart, and he's at the end of his rope. Everything is in shambles, and he's begging God to help him hold it all together; asking God to hold his heart together because it's being ripped apart. I imagine the singer on his knees on some dark street corner in the pouring rain, looking longingly up at the sky. Or maybe he's crumpled on the sidewalk with his hands over his face. Then in my mind I see an actual beating heart, and it is being destroyed by some invisible force. It's a gory scene; blood is splurting all over the place. Pieces of the heart start to fall, like slices of a cored apple. Then two hands come into the picture and envelop the heart before it completely falls apart. The hands are the only things holding the pieces together.
I knew that wasn't my heart though. I knew because I'd been where the singer had been. I knew what it felt like to have your heart torn apart. My heart didn't feel that way.
Then I imagine a bruised, beat-up looking heart. This heart looks like hell, but it's still being held together by some Frankenstein type stitching. It's all sorts of different colors: black, blue, purple. There are cuts and gouges all over its surface. It's a healing heart, but it looks like it has a long way to go. It kind of looks like a soldier would the day after a gruesome day of battle.
I didn't think this was my heart either. I knew because I'd had that heart too, and I knew the dull ache that came with it. My heart didn't ache like that.
If I'd pictured a third heart, which I didn't, It probably would have looked fairly healed, but with lots of scaring and a few fresh bruises and scratches. I think that's my heart.
I remember thinking it's impossible to have a completely healed heart because no matter how far down that healing path we get, things keep hurting us. That seemed really unfair. But that's life. Life is a series of battles and victories, and it's impossible to get through these battles unscathed. And I would argue that every battle ends in victory because even when we lose, we win. We can take something good away from every failure. There is always a lesson to be learned.
And while hurt or broken hearts are impossible to avoid, we can control the rate of healing. Healing is a choice and some people choose to stay broken. Choosing to heal looks different for everyone.
As cheesy as it sounds, I said to God in my mind, "I want to have a strong heart." I figure the stronger my heart is, the better it will withstand an assault. Besides, it's hard to cut or rip through scar tissue, isn't it?
Things that have torn apart my heart:
My parent's divorce
My friend Nick's suicide
Will Caskey
My mom's bitternes and hatred
My friend's husband murdering their six year old son and then killing himself
These things were all horrible and devastating in their own ways, but they have all made me stronger. I think. Or they've made me a better person. Or they've helped me understand life, myself, or other people a little better. You can learn just as much from the bad as you can from the good, maybe even more:
Romans 5:1-5
1 Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. 3 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
In the chorus of the song the singer tells the listener about how his heart is breaking, and he's asking God to hold it together. The picture the singer paints is a desperate one. The listener gets the impression that the singer's life is falling apart, and he's at the end of his rope. Everything is in shambles, and he's begging God to help him hold it all together; asking God to hold his heart together because it's being ripped apart. I imagine the singer on his knees on some dark street corner in the pouring rain, looking longingly up at the sky. Or maybe he's crumpled on the sidewalk with his hands over his face. Then in my mind I see an actual beating heart, and it is being destroyed by some invisible force. It's a gory scene; blood is splurting all over the place. Pieces of the heart start to fall, like slices of a cored apple. Then two hands come into the picture and envelop the heart before it completely falls apart. The hands are the only things holding the pieces together.
I knew that wasn't my heart though. I knew because I'd been where the singer had been. I knew what it felt like to have your heart torn apart. My heart didn't feel that way.
Then I imagine a bruised, beat-up looking heart. This heart looks like hell, but it's still being held together by some Frankenstein type stitching. It's all sorts of different colors: black, blue, purple. There are cuts and gouges all over its surface. It's a healing heart, but it looks like it has a long way to go. It kind of looks like a soldier would the day after a gruesome day of battle.
I didn't think this was my heart either. I knew because I'd had that heart too, and I knew the dull ache that came with it. My heart didn't ache like that.
If I'd pictured a third heart, which I didn't, It probably would have looked fairly healed, but with lots of scaring and a few fresh bruises and scratches. I think that's my heart.
I remember thinking it's impossible to have a completely healed heart because no matter how far down that healing path we get, things keep hurting us. That seemed really unfair. But that's life. Life is a series of battles and victories, and it's impossible to get through these battles unscathed. And I would argue that every battle ends in victory because even when we lose, we win. We can take something good away from every failure. There is always a lesson to be learned.
And while hurt or broken hearts are impossible to avoid, we can control the rate of healing. Healing is a choice and some people choose to stay broken. Choosing to heal looks different for everyone.
As cheesy as it sounds, I said to God in my mind, "I want to have a strong heart." I figure the stronger my heart is, the better it will withstand an assault. Besides, it's hard to cut or rip through scar tissue, isn't it?
Things that have torn apart my heart:
My parent's divorce
My friend Nick's suicide
Will Caskey
My mom's bitternes and hatred
My friend's husband murdering their six year old son and then killing himself
These things were all horrible and devastating in their own ways, but they have all made me stronger. I think. Or they've made me a better person. Or they've helped me understand life, myself, or other people a little better. You can learn just as much from the bad as you can from the good, maybe even more:
Romans 5:1-5
1 Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2 through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. 3 Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.
1 comment:
Well put, Dear Daughter!
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