Sometimes, I get all caught up in doing things. My mind races through what needs to happen and who's depending on me and what tomorrow holds. It makes me feel like I need to be strong. It makes me want to be hard and steady. But, it feels empty. The problem comes with the afters. After I write the last sentence, after I lock the door, after I drive back, after I sign off... There's a chilling sense of singularity inherent in finding satisfaction in accomplishment. It's totally unsettling. And, I must admit that I've struggled with it.

Sometimes, I want my heart to be the strongest, hardest, most dependable, unshakable. I want to be able to stand on my own merits and defend myself against any foe. I want to never be broken or beaten. But, there's a problem with this sort of advancement. Strengthening of this sort only comes from having almost been beaten; from having come dangerously close to being broken. Then, weaknesses are recognized and patched before something or someone can seize them. It works quite well until defeat eventually comes. Then, all of the shoddy patchwork is revealed. Then, the armor is shown to be mostly empty and drafty. And, the heart that was independent and unshakable lies helplessly and further injures itself with every clattering pulsation of its crusty encasing.

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My heart was like this for a time. The scary thing is that it was a time when adversity seemed preoccupied and my life, charmed. Where was the surrender? I don't know. I thought I was compassionate though my judgements were swift and sure. I thought I was justified in stating loveless truths. God was always on my side. The world was wrong and I was not of the world. Surely it was my place to be righteously indignant...

Then, something inside me was broken by forces beyond my control. My fears rushed in. It felt like I had lost the worth that I had previously earned. My spirit shivered. It seemed like the air about me gave off a palpable discomfort.

So, I gave up.

For the first time, I truly realized that my best was just not good enough. Lucky for me, my not being good enough had already been taken care of. In my distress, I told God that He could do whatever He wanted with me. I was obviously screwing it all up. "I surrender". Then He started doing something. Honestly, it sucked for a while and was really uncomfortable. But, I guess change can only happen when you're made uncomfortable.

I started really seeing people. I mean, beforehand, I saw others. Now, I started seeing equals. They were popping up everywhere. I saw people who were worth knowing, not for a redeeming quality, but for the simple sake of knowing. At the time, it seemed like it was they who were becoming a we with me. Now, I see that it was I who became a we with them. I thought my heart would maybe grow stronger with the union. To my surprise, it was further broken. As my realization of my needs increased and my love began bleeding out, Christ held me together.

He showed me how life is meant to be embraced by making my heart flexible. I started loving Him unreasonably as He brought my pieces back together. I don't know if I can ever adequately explain the change. I do know that the questions seemed to turn into simple declarations.

Why do You love me? How is it possible that You could be so good? ...

You love me. You are good.

Previously, I thought my heart could fit the molds made by others. But, it was too hard. Only questions were left to fill the holes and ease the pressures. My ability to love was impeded by my inability to recognize the shape of my own heart. I thought it was fitting. I had been dulled to the draftiness of the fit. I had been forcing my heart to fit through sheer strength of will. And, with the best of intentions, I had miserably failed.

The change made my heart flexible. It would be foolish for me to claim that I now know its shape simply because it is constantly changing. However, I'm getting a better feel for compassion. Every now and again, my heart is squeezed like a sponge to fit another's mold. Every time it's squeezed, it leaks tears. Consequently, I cry way more than I did previously. But, I've taken solace in the documented tears of many of the Bible's masculine spiritual giants.

Life seems somehow lighter after the change... It makes me sad that more men don't see the joy of flexibility. I can say with certainty that my heart is not strong in any traditional sense of the word. Indeed, I can almost guarantee that it will be broken again soon. But, I have security in the knowledge that Jesus will be there every time to fix it up again. He has given me the flexure to bounce back from the brokenness. Now that my heart can fit more molds, I can relate to more people. Really, I think it's the fuller life Christ liked to speak of. For, love demands vulnerability. And, "we know that we have passed out of death into life, because we love the brethren. He who does not love abides in death" [1 John 3:14]. Before, I was saved, but I wasn't living eternally. Now, I recognize the ever-present need to do so due to time constraints.

It's quite strange really... I must live eternally now because I have a limited window of time in which to do so. There's a beauty in that though, the knowledge that the brokenness will eventually cease. That's worth living towards.