“Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!”
Psalm 27 is a prayer of confidence in God. It has numerous exclamations of gratitude and confidence in God, including ‘he will conceal me under his tent’, and ‘if my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up’. I like these pithy affirmations of faith. It’s like morning affirmations, where you repeat something that you want to be true, speaking it into reality.
And in the midst of these affirmations, there’s this sentence I find precious. “Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!” As someone who spends an inordinate time in my head, I love this notion that the heart speaks, distinctly from the self. Come, my heart says. David is acknowledging that sometimes, it’s his heart that beckons him on to seek God’s face. From this I gather that the rest of David, the parts to which the heart is speaking, was either disinclined to seek God’s face, or too busy doing something else.
For those who spend more time in their heart center, this may not feel as critical as it does to those of us who spend time in our heads. It’s easy for me to think that everything comes from my head – all of my intentions and desires, plans and even my feelings. I think therefore I am.
This simple sentence reminds me that the heart is also a place from which my intentions, desires, plans and feelings originate. It’s as if my heart has to work extra hard to get a word in edgewise, from my over-functioning head. My head has been well exercised and rewarded, perhaps to the point where the other parts of me are at risk of atrophy.
As I reflect on my world, I can see this in play with my sick loved one. I frequently respond to them from my head, from what I think should happen, or what I know logically. However they are in no place to have logic applied. What I think should happen doesn’t really matter. I can contrast that from how my husband responds. He clearly responds from his heart, and it is lovely to watch. Granted, sometimes it doesn’t make any sense (to my over functioning head). He would probably find nothing stellar about this pithy heart-driven sentence.
Psalm 27 is a prayer of confidence in God. It has numerous exclamations of gratitude and confidence in God, including ‘he will conceal me under his tent’, and ‘if my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up’. I like these pithy affirmations of faith. It’s like morning affirmations, where you repeat something that you want to be true, speaking it into reality.
And in the midst of these affirmations, there’s this sentence I find precious. “Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!” As someone who spends an inordinate time in my head, I love this notion that the heart speaks, distinctly from the self. Come, my heart says. David is acknowledging that sometimes, it’s his heart that beckons him on to seek God’s face. From this I gather that the rest of David, the parts to which the heart is speaking, was either disinclined to seek God’s face, or too busy doing something else.
For those who spend more time in their heart center, this may not feel as critical as it does to those of us who spend time in our heads. It’s easy for me to think that everything comes from my head – all of my intentions and desires, plans and even my feelings. I think therefore I am.
This simple sentence reminds me that the heart is also a place from which my intentions, desires, plans and feelings originate. It’s as if my heart has to work extra hard to get a word in edgewise, from my over-functioning head. My head has been well exercised and rewarded, perhaps to the point where the other parts of me are at risk of atrophy.
As I reflect on my world, I can see this in play with my sick loved one. I frequently respond to them from my head, from what I think should happen, or what I know logically. However they are in no place to have logic applied. What I think should happen doesn’t really matter. I can contrast that from how my husband responds. He clearly responds from his heart, and it is lovely to watch. Granted, sometimes it doesn’t make any sense (to my over functioning head). He would probably find nothing stellar about this pithy heart-driven sentence.
This morning, I’m thinking about my poor under-developed heart center. I need acknowledge it, listen to it, exercise it. To be clear, I’m sure my heart has driven me in some of my actions. And I think I’ve just not acknowledged its role, or given it an appropriate place in my world. Today, I will seek to listen to my heart, and to see what it’s calling me to seek.
No comments:
Post a Comment