I had an entire post written for this morning.
I read it and re-read it so many times I thought my eyeballs were going to fall out.
The grammar was correct. The content was correct. The conclusions were correct.
But it had absolutely no heart.
I catch myself running into the same pattern in my life. I’ll have my quiet time – all 30 minutes of it, including a scripture memory verse. I’ll go to church and take notes. I’ll attend small group and participate.
But somewhere in the mix of things, I forget my heart.
I’m a Tin Man in a skirt, I’m a Tin Man with long hair. Please don’t put me on the mettle, I sure am torn apart, if I only had a heart.
Then I remember. I do have a heart.
It’s been searched and tested. It’s been renewed and righted.
It’s been set free then captured.
Oh, I know I have a heart.
It’s just a matter of finding it in the middle of the noise. It’s a matter of refusing to settle for anything less than blood flowing, passion burning, pulse beating, heart engaged, Christ centered, vertical focused living.
Sometimes that means deleting a pretty decent post that may seem better crafted and organized than this jumbled mess. Or it means posting a blog without my usual picture, because I’m more interested in finding my heart than in finding a good picture. Or it means simply sitting quietly with the one my heart longs for.
It’s late on a Saturday night as I write these thoughts. It’s been a good day. I’m thankful for my blessings. I’m secure in my faith. I’m rested and expectant.
But mostly I’m realizing that the only way for me to find my heart is to find the one who has it.
So I simply come.
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