Tablet of her Heart

I was one of those lucky kids who had chores assigned each week. And, on top of that, I was blessed with a mother who actually kept track of whether or not I did those chores. (Thanks, Mom!) As a kid, when I did my chores, I was basically attempting to get the visible surfaces clean enough for it to pass muster with my mom. Especially with dusting. I hated dusting. Still do. My bad childhood habits have followed be into adulthood. Now that I have a home of my own, I often find myself doing the “surface clean” – just before guests come over, at nap time to preserve my sanity, etc. I just want it to look “good enough.” It’s clean, but not really clean.

But there are some days when my alter ego takes over, and deep cleaning begins. It’s a train that’s hard to stop. This, too, started in childhood when I discovered that the tip of the nail file was just the right size to clean in the crack between the counter tops and the metal piece around its edge. I thought my mom would be mad about what I was doing; she thanked me instead. (I’m not sure if it was one of those “aw thank you for helping, honey” moments, or if she really was glad for what I was doing.) My mother would probably tell you it started even before that. When I was just a toddler I discovered sock lint between my toes, and thereafter, I had to do a careful inspection for said lint any time my socks were off. Can’t leave it there, right?

I resist the term “neat freak.” Quite frankly, I don’t have time for that in my life. It’s more like organized chaos. If you’ve been to my house, especially in the last year, you know that’s the truth. My house hovers between looking like a semi-organized Fisher Price liquidation center and somewhere that a bomb just went off. With two little ones, I barely keep the clutter at bay, let alone go for the deep cleaning to get all the dirt that is hiding IN PLAIN SIGHT.

It’s almost discouraging to do this deep cleaning, because I find SO. MUCH. DIRT. Dirt I wasn’t even aware existed, but that I was walking by every day. Yuck. In one of those moments when the deep clean freak had taken over, I thought of how often I clean the surface of my life without taking the time to inspect the deeper places of my heart that need to be cleaned. Jesus did not have good things to say about this practice. He called the Pharisees “whitewashed tombs” looking pretty on the outside but full of “everything dead” on the inside (Matthew 23:27). He also accused them of only washing the outside of the cup and dish in an earlier verse (25). And how gross is that? Just think if you only washed the outside of your cup. Everyday. Day after day. What would be growing there?! Oh my! Yet, how many times do I let this level of clean be acceptable in my heart. I say a quick prayer, “I’m sorry, Lord, I lost it again…” without truly examining myself, looking for the root of the issue, so that I can turn from it in true repentance.

While I don’t think God rejects the quick “I’m sorry, Lord” prayer, if that’s the only type of repenting or heart “cleaning” that I do, then the junk is going to pile up quickly in the deep places. I know my junk is there. The aforementioned cluttered house, I’m sure, reveals that I don’t have abundant spare time these days. Sometimes taking time out for the Lord, to sit quietly before him and inspect my heart, gets pushed to the back burner. Just being totally transparent. On a good day, I get a chapter of the Bible read, rather quickly, almost always while something else is going on. I don’t know about you, but for me, that’s not the type of environment where I can look deep into my heart. Other times, it just hits me. Conviction: This is not the right way to act. Actually, it hits me a lot more often than I’d like to admit. But the question is — how to respond to that moment of conviction? Will I say the quick “I’m sorry, Lord” or will I make time and space for a meaningful change to happen in my heart?

As I have prayed over this issue and asked God to show me areas that need “cleaning,” He has mercifully shown me places that have that deeply rooted dirt and grime that requires an entire box of baking soda and all the vinegar you have. I’m judgmental. I’m selfish. I’m apathetic. There are so many hurting people in this world, and all I can focus on most days is my family and myself and making sure we are all good. While I do think that falls under my job description as mommy of this family, I don’t think that’s a license for complete neglect of everyone else out there who’s hurting and needy. You know, it’s a mindset shift. Am I only focused on me? Or am I able to turn my eyes outward to see others who are in need? I need to be compassionate instead of judgmental. I need to serve instead of being selfish. I need love instead of apathy. (Just to name a few.) Oh, Jesus, clean my heart in the deep places so that the grime is gone and I can love like you! Open my eyes to see people who need my compassion, my service, my love.

The moment I set my 8 month old son Micah in his high chair, he immediately lunges toward the dining room table, frantically trying to grasp the tray to his seat which contains hours to days old Cheerios. He is a Cheerios fanatic. This boy loves his Cheerios. Even after the meal is over, while the rest of us finish eating (because chewing takes longer than swallowing sweet pea puree), he scavenges under the dining room table for any stray Cheerios that he, perhaps intentionally, flung about during his meal. What gets me here is that I have never failed to put his tray on, I have never failed to give him Cheerios (abundantly), I have never failed to feed him, once he’s safely stowed in that seat. So why the grasping? It’s as if he thinks I might not actually give him what he wants (and needs). Crazy, right? I want to say to him, “SON! You don’t need to do that!”

And then I wonder, has God ever wanted to say the same thing to me? My Father has never failed to meet my needs, yet how often to I frantically cast about trying to provide for myself? Trying to build the perfect life. Trying to secure everyone’s happiness. Trying to ensure everyone’s safety. My Father has never failed me, so why this frantic struggle? Why not just sit back in the chair and wait for that smorgasbord of Cheerios to be presented, where I can munch to my heart’s content? I mean, think about it. Everything is God’s. EVERYTHING. Do you need something? Oh, he has one. He can move a complete stranger to give it to you! He is the God of the universe, what can he not provide for you? Sorry, fresh out of extra money for your heating bill in this universe… Right. He’s got it.

While I’m sure we are all hoping for more than plain Cheerios to fulfill our lives, I hope my point is clear. We don’t need to spend our days rushing about trying to make sure that everything is perfect and we have all that we need. We can trust our loving Father to provide. (Side note, this is not a license for laziness, though.) And even if the tray should happen to appear with something other than Cheerios on it, we can trust that our Father loves us enough to give us just what we need, just when we need it. (I’m sure the first time Micah saw bright orange pieces of carrot on his tray instead of his beloved Cheerios, he was rather aghast. But he soon saw that I had provided him with yet another delicacy…) Trust that your Father knows what you need, and he will provide it at just the right time – not too soon, not too late – just the right time.

Psalm 23:5 says “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.” My cup OVERFLOWS. I love it.

Matthew 6:26 says “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” Aren’t you? So. Much. More. Valuable.

When I was in high school, I attended a teen program called Discipleship Training School every summer at my church. I cannot put into words how much of an impact these weeks had in my life. Lasting relationships formed. Inside jokes were born. Countless memories made. (Kudos to my youth leaders. Because now that I am not a teen, and I’m in the age bracket that they were in at the time, I cannot fathom how they did what they did.)

And then there was my faith. During these weeks, I came face to face with the Living God. As a young teen, these weeks, at first, turned into the splendid spiritual and emotional highs that we’ve all experienced after a spiritual retreat of some sort. But the highs inevitably lead to the lows again. By midway through the school year, I’d be trudging back along in the rut of my utterly challenging (read, breezy) teenage life. (Ah, the drama of teenage doldrums.)

Anyways, as I came into my later teen years, graduated high school and entered college, I began to serve on staff at this same Discipleship Training School at my church. And I watched the pattern continue: Emotional highs … inevitable lows, year after year. This was not what I wanted for myself or for the students in my small groups. What is the point of a faith that is only based upon how we are feeling in that given season or day? What is the point of faith led entirely by emotion? If we can only walk faithfully representing our Father when we feel like it, well, that doesn’t make us very good children. (Imagine if you only obeyed your parents when you felt like it! Ha! Better yet, imagine if your children only obeyed you when they felt like it! Do you feel the rage rising? Cause I do.) Emotions are real. We feel them, they are important. Not discrediting that. But, faith needs to be deeper than emotion. During those weeks at DTS, I chose to pursue a faith of depth, of rootedness, something real and utterly unchangeable in my heart. My prayer became, “Lord, don’t let these truths that I am learning be fleeting. Don’t let them fade away. Lord, write these truths on my heart. Write them there where they will change me forever.”

In the 10 plus years since these weeks of DTS, this has continued to be an important prayer in my spiritual walk. When landmark things happened in my faith, I still pray, “Lord, write this on my heart. I don’t want to forget.” Truthfully, some of those moments, those truths, have still been lost, and lessons have had to be relearned. But many truths have remained. Over the years, I have found that writing about these events and lessons helps to solidify them in my heart and mind. Whatever the stage of my life, as I’ve processed the things I want to remember, writing has been as essential as breathing.

And so here we are, more than ten years after those DTS years, and I’m still praying, “Lord, write this on my heart.” The lessons are different now. I’m now a stay-at-home mom with two little ones. And there are many moments that I, like Mary, am treasuring up in my heart. Nothing has changed my view of God as much as becoming a parent. The lessons in these three years of being a mommy have been rich and full, though not without challenge. As you read the tablet of my heart, I hope you will be encouraged and your faith in the One who gives all good gifts will be increased and deepened.