Well, not mushy, but I've noticed that I write about my heart a lot. I have this theory that it's because, for so long, I didn't want to deal with my heart at all. There was a little more there than I was willing to revisit. Why try to go back and remember hurts and scars and fears and damage and things that are in the past, when you can't change it anyway? People screw up, life goes on, so much time, too much pain, maybe confusion as well. Besides, it didn't matter, did it? I am in control of my life and what I let in and out of it now. "Learn from it, forget the past, deal with the present, look to the future", my little logical brain said.
So I did. I suffocated the past, and lack of attention led to lack of memory. And soon, I couldn't even discern the reasons for certain fears. Certain hurts. Predispositions that existed. Anger that smoldered into bitterness. Then, when that final rock shattered the little glass wall I was building around myself, my heart got to throw up what I had been forcing down it's throat for years. I guess you could say it wasn't the prettiest thing I've ever gotten to witness.
So now I actually pay attention to my heart, even if sometimes it's a little irrational. Ok, sometimes a lot of it's irrational. But I deal with it, because Proverbs 4:23 has come true for me. I always thought that was the verse that snobby Christian girls quoted because it gave them Jesus points. No, really, I did. Kind've one of those "Well I don't have what you have, but I'm choosing not to, because I'm guarding my heart." But I realize now that guarding isn't isolating. When you guard something, you protect it. And when you protect it, you cherish and nurture and encourage the life within it. Not ignore the problems banging at the gate.
Anyways, I think that's hilarious. Because when I met Jesus, I had this constipated heart that I didn't want to mess with any longer. Dying from disuse. I was so cutely bitter and disillusioned. And He took it and busted it wide open. Now, it gets used more. It gets hurt a lot more. I talk about it more, and am more emotional and risky and less rational with it. Which means it's more alive.
And in this state of being alive, it's restless as well. The longer I live, the more restless I get. The more time I spend living with excess, the less satisfied I am in the midst of the provision. The more people my age talk about "our futures" and our careers and the expansion of ourselves, throttling life and milking what we can from it, I get uncomfortable. Every time I sing the words of popular praise songs like "I will follow", or "You can have all this world, just give me Jesus" or "if our God is for us who could ever stop us", I have this little voice that reminds me that rarely am I asked to follow through on these words. Rarely am I physically wanting. Rarely am I put in a position where I have to choose something over my relationship with Jesus. In the middle of a country that considers excess food and shelter and clothing and money personal rights, I don't understand what it means to lose everything for the Man who gave up everything for me.
But I want to. Perhaps this is why I'm restless. Once you've tasted life, you don't go back. I want to know Jesus and feel Jesus and walk every single day in His presence. With His presence. I want to live my life understanding that I'm not home yet. I want to pour out the life I've been given to people who have had theirs taken. I want to spend time on things that matter, like people and their hearts and their needs. Not on my career or my future in industry or my future husband. Not on me. I am not interested in any more self-indulgence that numbs. I want self-sacrifice that kindles. I want purpose past a paycheck and a wedding dress. I want to know the heart of Jesus I still comprehend so little of.
Yet I go on. And I continue to become an engineer. And continue to work towards medical school. And continue to learn the balance between being unhappy in my present situation and having joy in the middle of it. But sometimes, when I'm quiet, I can still hear my heart rustling a little bit, and I know that's the restlessness. For now, it's still waiting
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