"We are going to go on a journey together. We are going to go to into the house of your heart. We are going to go into the house and see what God has for us there."
What if someone told you this? What if someone was going to take you on this journey with them? What would your response be? Did you even know your heart has a house, is like a house, or even has rooms? Why would you be asked to go there? Why would you be asked to go into that house? What would God have for you there? Why? Who cares?
Valid questions. I have asked every single one of them. I don't really have answers to them. Honestly, I'm more screaming the questions out, hoping to never get answers. I silently hope I won't have to go into that house, let alone peek in. There's a fear that wells up inside of me when I think about it.
I picture the house of my heart being really, really old. My house served a purpose in its day, but maybe not the most noble of one. Picture an early 1900's profitable estate. Over the centuries, the land gets sectioned off to make a city. Estates get deeded to the city in death, or in the event debts are unpaid. One estate could have multiple buildings, especially in the south where slavery was once popular. I feel like my house is back, behind the main estate. Maybe the roof is a bit leaky, the exterior paint is chipping away; there's a cracked window or two as well. Inside the heat keeps the bitter cold away, but you still need to wrap under a heavy blanket to feel warm; you see your breath at night. There's places in that house I have never been, never seen, and never looked at. I have never had to before, so why should I now?
The hidden places inside our hearts are the places only we knew once existed and places we have only been in once, but we were alone and never want to go back to. What happened is different for all of us and it doesn't have to be traumatic, just challenging. Maybe your hidden places are moments that defined a "should not" for you? For example, maybe you were grounded for an entire summer for talking back to your mother, but you were really trying to ask questions to understand because you are a deep thinker. A hidden place for you may be where you learned, "I should not ask questions." Perhaps your hidden place is where you learned how you "should be." I had a friend in college who was raised by a great, Christian single man. Whenever her or her siblings did something wrong, he corrected them by making them read the Bible and memorize a portion of Scripture. Nothing is wrong with this type of parenting style, except that she was exasperated by this once. After she said a curse word, her father grounded her until she had memorized the entire chapter of James 3. Now she was in college, convinced that "she should be" great at this Christian college education process because she had entire chapters of the Bible memorized. When she got a lower mark on a paper, she was astounded and her world was crumbling. Neither of these hidden places were created out of anything extremely painful, but they were seeds to a false identity and a false belief in who the person was meant to be.
The dark places of our hearts are those that are easily accessible, but cannot be clearly seen without an intentional motion and a source of light. As I kid, I hated cleaning my room. (And I guess, as an adult I hate it too!) I remember I would stuff as much under the bed as I could without being obvious, so that no one would be led to think there was anything under there. I had an art for knowing the cut off, but one day I was over-confident. My mom sent my oldest sister to check my side of the room for her. There's just something about your siblings knowledge of you that can be frustrating, especially when you're trying to hide something from your parents! My sister said, "This looks good, Em, but what if I were to bend down and look under your bed? Would anything be there?" My siblings all knew I couldn't lie and they knew the faces I would make and the body language I would have that screamed louder than my silence ever could. Without me even saying a word, she looked under the bed, got up, left the room, and shouted to mom, "Nah, she's not done cleaning yet!" The dark places of our hearts are those kind of places, the places we stuff things to deal with later, or the places we can't quite reach with the duster.
I know we shouldn't be afraid to go there, but I am. I have been on my healing journey long enough to know healing is painful and brings floodgates of tears. I just don't want to deal with the emotions and would rather not feel, but feeling is all I can do. I don't know what to do with the feelings, especially since stuffing them is not an option for me anymore. For now, they just exist and, sometimes, overwhelm me. I know I need to go there and I know I need to discover these places and clean up my house, but I'm too tired, other things are too important, and not going there is far easier and less painful.
Then, I see Him. His gentle hand reaches out to me again. He says to me sweetly, "We are going to go on a journey together. We are going to go to into the house of your heart. We are going to go into the house and see what our Father-God has for us there." Without thinking twice, I grasp ahold of His hand.
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