Cry In My Heart

Over the last few weeks, the sermons at my church have been focusing on sin, and last Sunday was quite poignant. I’ve always known that sin makes its dwelling within me, but to hear that the seat of sin is right inside my own heart was pretty gut-wrenching. As a human being, I have a predisposition to sin, and I am organically drawn to it. It is pervasive, and I know that as long as I am on earth, it will likely be a seemingly welcome option to which I will have real difficulty saying “no”.

On a positive note, I have a Savior who has all the necessary power and who has done all the necessary work to prevent sin from reigning within me. There is no power that Christ cannot overcome. And yet, I am still human. To put it bluntly, I am a stubborn and prideful human. Most people who know me can attest to that. I do not like to be wrong, and in many cases, I will debate a point until I am blue in the face, even if you have veritably proved you are right.

I want to perform well as both a therapist and a musician. I don’t want to look silly or dumb or incompetent, yet I am quick to ruminate upon criticism or harsh words. Despite the fact that I am quite confident in my abilities and skills, my fear lies in looking like a fool. My entire life I have always wanted to be good enough, smart enough, funny enough, and so on. I didn’t have to be “the best”, just good enough to be accepted. The problem, however, was that 1) my standards were so high I could never reach them and 2) I was never “me”. I was constantly disappointed because I could never find what I was truly looking for.

Over and over, I tell my clients and students that we do not have to be perfect, and I believe that with all of my heart. However, despite the fact that many of those previously mentioned standards have been lowered, there is still something driving the desire to avoid appearing imprudent.

I have always battled with my pride, but a few days ago I really began to wrestle it. At first it was an occasional slap across the cheek with a kick here and there, but last night was a battle so intense, I gave up. I was battered, and I was bruised. As I lied in bed, the tears trickling down my cheeks, I sensed a presence so sweet I lifted my head to search for where it was. I took a deep breath, stopping the tears for a brief moment to listen; it was only then that I heard it…

“I know you. I have searched you, and I know you. I know everything about you… your thoughts, your future, and your heart. Rest, my child. I am strong; you do not need to fight alone. I know you and everything you need, and I will show you if you let Me.”

“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”

For the last several months, this has been my prayer. I confess that all too often, I get busy. Whether I am busy seeing clients, teaching music lessons, preparing for recitals, or playing with friends, I sometimes forget the importance of searching my own heart. I sometimes forget that there is Someone who longs to know me… who in actuality already knows me, but longs for me to be open to being known. I am praying in earnest that the depths of my soul would be revealed to me. I am praying that if there is anything of which I may not even be aware preventing me from the most intimate relationship with my Savior, that it will be made known to me.

“There's a cry in my heart
For Your glory to fall
For Your presence to fill up my senses
There's a yearning again
A thirst for discipline
A hunger for things that are deeper

Could You take me beyond?
Could You carry me through?
If I open my heart?
Could I go there with You?”

"Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened."