I Slept, but My Heart Was Awake

I once prayed in deep confusion to the Lord, "Father, how much it must pain you to have to raise a fully grown young woman as a mere babe in Christ. I am nineteen, in my eyes. In yours, I am barely a year old, since that is when I gave my life to you. To see me, far past the innocence of childhood, and for You to be so determined that I should return there...How can it be done?"

I am confident that it made perfect sense to Him, however much it confused me to utter the words. (The Lord in all His infinite wisdom is never far from such prayers.) And, He had an answer....to break me.

The Lord shattered me into a million pieces through my experiences in Abilene, leaving me spent, and yearning. In my three years there, I dealt with a multitude of pains, each molding me and teaching me how to let go of the control that I have so vainly grasped at with clutching hands day after day. I left the tumult of Abilene in May, and by August had learned the simplest and most valuable lesson of my short life thus far: My heart is not my own.

One might think I would have learned this nearly eight years ago, the hour I first believed in the existence of God and His eternally lasting grace, giving Him my acknowledgment. If not then, surely I would have learned it when my face emerged from the baptismal pool, dripping with renewal and dedication three and a half years ago, giving Him my life. But my heart is more stubborn than most other parts of me, and is--regrettably--the only thing I refused to give.

Our Father does not give up until He has captured and invaded every hollow of our souls and lives. He will not settle for only your acknowledgment or dedication; He wants your heart as well. And, truly, there is a piece of each of our hearts that will remain listless and dissatisfied until we give Him what He wants. Unfortunately, it is not as simple to live out this lesson as it is to realize it.

There are moments, days, even months at a time during which I sleep. Yes, sleep. I sleep as one who lacks the strength, lacks the love to rise and face the day and its demons. I sleep as a fitful child, scared to dream of what might be better and scared to wake to what has not changed. Stuck, in the apathetic in-between, for as long as it takes for me to realize I do not belong there.

I slept, but my heart was awake. Listen! My lover is knocking: "Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one."

The heart, it never sleeps. Even when you do not hear your Lover beating against your walls, your heart hears Him. It hears the One who whispers into your sleeping soul, calling you His flawless one. God created your heart so that it would never be able to fully shut Him out once you have let Him in. He, my Love, never sleeps either.

How right they are to adore you, Oh Lord.