We've been discussing the heart lately, and last night I was struck by this story. It's a poetic story, though not poetic enough to put into the Poetry forum, plus I wanted a bit more discussion out of it. After my shower last night I was just getting ready to go to bed, but I stayed up late because it was one of those things where it was just begging to be written down. It felt like it was gushing out of me. That's what it feels like when I write poetry, typically. It's a wonderful and overwhelming feeling.
I apologize for the length. Kind of.
So, here we go!
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The Bible says to guard your heart.
Oh, it's guarded. It's like a castle, with many rooms. There is a 10 foot high wall around it, with barbed wire at the top. There's a moat surrounding it.
With alligators.
There are watch towers with guards ready to sound the alarm should someone get too close.
Inevitably, someone approaches.
After a while, they seem harmless enough. They aren't banging at the gate, shooting arrows across the wall, or otherwise being dangerous.
I let them in.
I even show them some of the rooms that I don't normally show other people.
But after a while, seemingly out of the blue, though maybe not so sudden as I would like to think, they start smashing things.
They start lighting up fires that had only been coals before, ones that I had been trying to let die.
They ravage my heart.
I usher them out, locking doors behind me, sealing the gate and putting the guards back on duty.
But the damage has been done.
I try to put things back together, but some of the shards of broken pieces cut me and only make it worse.
Time passes and I still don't have much cleaned up. It's hard. Some of the pieces are heavy, or fragile, and I'm not quite sure how to handle them.
I feel overwhelmed.
"Guards!" I call out. "Put another layer of bricks around the wall."
It gets harder and harder to let people in.
Some I only let walk around the walls, and if they get too close to that gate I'll pull them in another direction.
Some I let in, but I make sure not to let them see those rooms that were ruined, or the darker rooms that I keep hidden. Some don't hurt me.
Some do.
And after those, I desperately shout, "Guards! Another layer!"
It seems like it's getting harder and harder to see the sky, the walls seem so daunting.
But how am I supposed to be free when people practically hand me the bricks to put on my wall?
"Rachel." I hear my name from a place not specifically in any room, but I know it's there, in my castle.
And I know who it is.
He's been there the whole time.
After the smashing of my heart, I had been too busy trying to fix it myself, and too busy building my walls, that I hadn't even run to Him for help.
He is beside me now.
I don't make eye contact. I hang my head, defeated.
"I see your castle." He says softly. "The beautiful rooms, the dark ones, the ones that are a mess, both from your own doing and from others."
I close my eyes, waiting for Him to say, "Get over it. Clean it up already. I'm tired of it."
Isn't that what others say?
But is He like others?
"I love you. Nothing in your castle changes that."
I finally meet His gaze and I'm overwhelmed by His love.
He walks with me and shows me that my walls kept people out well enough, but it also kept anger and bitterness in.
He helps me start taking the walls down, brick by brick. He starts helping me pick up pieces in the messy rooms.
I wish He would just blast the walls away, and whip my messy rooms back into place, right away!
But His plan is bigger and better than that.
Some of the pieces I pick up are heavy. I very clearly remember how and why they are there; why they made me order for the walls to be thicker. I stare at them in my hand. Feelings bubble. I want to chuck that piece as far as I can. To never see it again.
I pick up more pieces and carry them around. They're incredibly heavy. It's exhausting. But I'm not sure He can handle the weight of it. Then I realize my folly. How could the Maker of my castle not handle its contents?
I suddenly know what to do.
I turn and hand the pieces to Him. He does a strange thing with them.
He starts building something new with it, right in my castle. I can't tell what it is yet. It has the promise of being something beautiful, but I can still see the sharp edges of the pieces. They still hurt. To me, it's still ugly.
"How can that piece be used in my castle?" I ask.
With a tender smile, He only says two words.
"Trust me."
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I guess I realized this last night because I realize that it's taken me months and months to try and heal on my own from things that have happened. I trusted God a lot but things have happened in the past few years that made me drift away. I know that healing takes time, but last night it hit me that I wasn't even trying to let God help me. To let Him carry my burden.
Do you find it hard to "let" Christ walk with you through some things, or to give some things to Him? I've never really been fond of the phrase "give it to God", simply because I feel that that implies that you no longer carry it or are affected by it. But I think that at some point, we do have to let go a bit of our iron grip on things and let God heal us.
I've also learned that guarding my heart doesn't mean making it impassable to outsiders. Sure, I need to be diligent about who I let in, which is hard in and of itself. I was hurt by several Christians last year. You'd think they would be the best people to let in, which is why it's been so hard to know who to let in and who not to. But as my story pointed out, having that much artillery around my heart also kept other, unpleasant, things in. What does guarding your heart mean to you?
Thoughts?
I apologize for the length. Kind of.
So, here we go!
----------------------------------------
The Bible says to guard your heart.
Oh, it's guarded. It's like a castle, with many rooms. There is a 10 foot high wall around it, with barbed wire at the top. There's a moat surrounding it.
With alligators.
There are watch towers with guards ready to sound the alarm should someone get too close.
Inevitably, someone approaches.
After a while, they seem harmless enough. They aren't banging at the gate, shooting arrows across the wall, or otherwise being dangerous.
I let them in.
I even show them some of the rooms that I don't normally show other people.
But after a while, seemingly out of the blue, though maybe not so sudden as I would like to think, they start smashing things.
They start lighting up fires that had only been coals before, ones that I had been trying to let die.
They ravage my heart.
I usher them out, locking doors behind me, sealing the gate and putting the guards back on duty.
But the damage has been done.
I try to put things back together, but some of the shards of broken pieces cut me and only make it worse.
Time passes and I still don't have much cleaned up. It's hard. Some of the pieces are heavy, or fragile, and I'm not quite sure how to handle them.
I feel overwhelmed.
"Guards!" I call out. "Put another layer of bricks around the wall."
It gets harder and harder to let people in.
Some I only let walk around the walls, and if they get too close to that gate I'll pull them in another direction.
Some I let in, but I make sure not to let them see those rooms that were ruined, or the darker rooms that I keep hidden. Some don't hurt me.
Some do.
And after those, I desperately shout, "Guards! Another layer!"
It seems like it's getting harder and harder to see the sky, the walls seem so daunting.
But how am I supposed to be free when people practically hand me the bricks to put on my wall?
"Rachel." I hear my name from a place not specifically in any room, but I know it's there, in my castle.
And I know who it is.
He's been there the whole time.
After the smashing of my heart, I had been too busy trying to fix it myself, and too busy building my walls, that I hadn't even run to Him for help.
He is beside me now.
I don't make eye contact. I hang my head, defeated.
"I see your castle." He says softly. "The beautiful rooms, the dark ones, the ones that are a mess, both from your own doing and from others."
I close my eyes, waiting for Him to say, "Get over it. Clean it up already. I'm tired of it."
Isn't that what others say?
But is He like others?
"I love you. Nothing in your castle changes that."
I finally meet His gaze and I'm overwhelmed by His love.
He walks with me and shows me that my walls kept people out well enough, but it also kept anger and bitterness in.
He helps me start taking the walls down, brick by brick. He starts helping me pick up pieces in the messy rooms.
I wish He would just blast the walls away, and whip my messy rooms back into place, right away!
But His plan is bigger and better than that.
Some of the pieces I pick up are heavy. I very clearly remember how and why they are there; why they made me order for the walls to be thicker. I stare at them in my hand. Feelings bubble. I want to chuck that piece as far as I can. To never see it again.
I pick up more pieces and carry them around. They're incredibly heavy. It's exhausting. But I'm not sure He can handle the weight of it. Then I realize my folly. How could the Maker of my castle not handle its contents?
I suddenly know what to do.
I turn and hand the pieces to Him. He does a strange thing with them.
He starts building something new with it, right in my castle. I can't tell what it is yet. It has the promise of being something beautiful, but I can still see the sharp edges of the pieces. They still hurt. To me, it's still ugly.
"How can that piece be used in my castle?" I ask.
With a tender smile, He only says two words.
"Trust me."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I guess I realized this last night because I realize that it's taken me months and months to try and heal on my own from things that have happened. I trusted God a lot but things have happened in the past few years that made me drift away. I know that healing takes time, but last night it hit me that I wasn't even trying to let God help me. To let Him carry my burden.
Do you find it hard to "let" Christ walk with you through some things, or to give some things to Him? I've never really been fond of the phrase "give it to God", simply because I feel that that implies that you no longer carry it or are affected by it. But I think that at some point, we do have to let go a bit of our iron grip on things and let God heal us.
I've also learned that guarding my heart doesn't mean making it impassable to outsiders. Sure, I need to be diligent about who I let in, which is hard in and of itself. I was hurt by several Christians last year. You'd think they would be the best people to let in, which is why it's been so hard to know who to let in and who not to. But as my story pointed out, having that much artillery around my heart also kept other, unpleasant, things in. What does guarding your heart mean to you?
Thoughts?
