A Hard Heart

Okay, so this isn’t going to be pleasant. No-one likes to admit that they have a hard heart, but I think I have to. Ouch!

Oh my heart isn’t rock hard. I still cry at movies; scream at the news; my heart still aches for the girl who feels she’s unworthy to be loved by someone who will cherish her and treat her right; and the person who cuts because they don’t know another way to deal with the pain on the inside.

I also still want to know God.

However I have become incredibly questioning and cynical.

The silliest things bother me. For example; a sentence that effectively, in the whole of a sermon, is a joining or throw-away line, jars me as wrong or incorrect. I pick holes in the smallest of details like speaking style and certain sentences, even though there is nothing necessarily wrong with the preaching.

I think it’s like my heart is covered in a hard shell of wax and now stuff bounces or slides off the smooth exterior. Layer after layer has been added over it as certain things have happened: years of feeling as though people want me to fit into their boxes; of feeling more tolerated than anything else because people wanted my husband’s skills as a muso; of being told by leaders in church that I’m bossy, prickly and difficult to get to know.

Now I’ve enough age and experience, to know these things about me aren’t total untruths. I do speak my mind and I often wear my emotions on my sleeve. I was once told my opinion was valued but when I spoke up and offered it, I was promptly informed the issue was none of my concern. I also don’t seem to get into the things lots of mum’s in the church environment do and so I don’t really feel relaxed at these things. (Then again I didn’t even feel really comfortable at playgroup and that had nothing to do with church.)

It’s because of things like these that many of us build walls, or for the sake of the earlier analogy, I pour another layer of wax protection around my heart. So now here I find myself, still wanting to love God but somehow distant and dry. I think it’s a little sad that I don’t feel the freedom anymore to truly and freely worship in public.

It’s amazingly sad when we consider that often it’s the things we do to ourselves, even whilst telling ourselves that it’s others doing it to us, that cause the problems. Sure I could say it’s what others said or did to me, but it is at least as much to do with my actions or reactions. I can’t control others only myself. I can also learn that there are few who actually need to understand me. First and foremost on that list would be me. I need to know who I am, what my calling and place is and focus on that. It helps, of course, that my husband understands me and I think at times he does this better than I do.

Part of my problem stems from my struggle to be what I feel others deem a ‘good Christian’ should be. I feel I should be understood and accepted and if I’m not then I’m not ‘good’ enough at what ever it is I’m supposed to be ‘good’ at. It is sometimes difficult to remember that ‘good Christian’ is a human construct and as such prone to human failings.

All I can really be is the best ‘me’ I can, after all I was created this way, artistic temperament and all. Of course that doesn’t mean I don’t have things that need to be worked on – patience continually being one of those things. But for now I need to start cracking away at the wax and allow myself to accept that it’s not other people’s responsibility to understand me. I need to let that go and allow myself to be free to be me and at the same time allow others the same grace. Then, chip by chip, the shell will begin to crack open.