I was attending college in Southern California when I had my first discussion with a Muslim about the nature of God. He was from Iran, highly intelligent and very polite. After listening to my stumbling words trying to explain the Holy Trinity, using my Sunday-school knowledge, he asked a one-word question: “Why?” I had learned the quaint analogy of the Trinity being like the three components of shell, yoke and white making one egg. There was also the one compound of water expressed in its three forms of liquid, steam, and ice. But no one had ever explained to me WHY the Trinity was important for my understanding of God. Was it? Or did it merely operate as a theoretical abstraction that needlessly divided people? I was speechless. My friend smiled but was kind and let the matter drop.
Several years later as my relationship with God was deepening, I came back to this topic. Besides Muslims, I had since bumped into Unitarians and Jehovah’s Witnesses who ridiculed the absurdity of worshiping three gods. It was intellectually embarrassing. Was this Christian doctrine necessary for my faith? It certainly wasn’t convenient. I needed to explore it in earnest.
Why Trinity?
The first thing I realized was that the word “Trinity” is not in the Bible. It was coined by early Christians to describe a head-scratching phenomenon that careful study of the biblical documents revealed. Not only were there passages that stated there is only one God (Deuteronomy 4:32, Mark 12:29), there were passages where Heavenly Father was referred to as God (Isaiah 64:8, Galatians 1:1, Ephesians 4:4-6), passages where Jesus was referred to as God (John 10:30, Philippians 2:5-6, Colossians 1:15-17), and passages where the Holy Spirit was referred to as God (Acts 5:3-4, Ephesians 4:30, 2 Corinthians 3:17). How could this be? Some might have thought these were just the result of unreliable manuscripts. But others understood that an important aspect of God’s nature was being disclosed. They took the word for “three” (tri) and the word for “unity” and squeezed them together to form a description that in English is known as Trinity—three united as one.
There were a lot of people that didn’t like this understanding of the divine; it didn’t make sense to them. One guy in particular named Arius (Google him) led an opposition movement. He explained that Jesus was not an eternal being of the same divine substance as God the Father who had no beginning. Instead, Jesus must have been God’s very first creation—a powerful but limited, angelic-like being. This idea was easier on many people’s brains and Arianism gained a large following.
Another guy named Athanasius (Google him too) became the outspoken challenger to the teachings of Arius. Besides pointing out the scriptures that reference Jesus as God, Athanasius was concerned about our whole understanding of salvation. He wondered, if Jesus Himself was not fully God, what good did His death do in saving us from our sin? By stripping Jesus of divinity, Athanasius understood that our redemption would be empty and meaningless because only God Himself is holy enough to atone for all the sin of humankind.
In the end, the relentless determination of Athanasius won out, and the Western, Eastern and Coptic Churches rejected Arianism and embraced a purely Trinitarian understanding of God. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit all have no beginning, no end, and work together so perfectly that they are rightly referred to as One.
But, why else?
This information helped. When someone later asked me if Jesus was praying to Himself while He was on earth, since He was God, I was able to find words to respond. The Father and the Son were individuals yet completely united in purpose as one. Therefore, Jesus was not merely praying to Himself but to His Father of the same divine substance as Himself.
However, I still struggled answering the question, “Why?” Athanasius had said that salvation as presented in the scriptures worked only with a triune God. Did this provide an acceptable reason for embracing the idea of three in one, even though it seemingly defies logic? Yes, I could simply choose to believe it. But I still longed for something more to tighten this Christian doctrine into my mind and heart.
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I vividly remember the moment I became a dad. My daughter was a tiny thing, just over five pounds. Holding her, I couldn’t comprehend the strange feelings pulsing inside me. As I looked into her little face, I thought, “I don’t even know you, yet I’m sure I would die for you.”
That was my introduction to the emotions of being a father. I was surprised with the overwhelming affection I felt for this naked, helpless, yet demanding creature. It wasn’t long before another thought rocked my reality. If I, an imperfect human and dad, can feel this strongly about my child, then what does my Heavenly Father feel toward me? The thought brought tears. Can I be loved with such strong affection by a holy, all-powerful God? And just as I was getting lost in these reflections, something warm ran down my arm. My precious little girl had peed on me. But did that change how I felt about her? Not in the slightest!
The Unmoved Mover?
I enjoy theology. For me, it’s thinking about God, what He’s like, what His motivations and desires are and how we humans can possibly connect with Him. Unfortunately, some theological thought can lead people away from a relationship with God as they wander down paths that tarnish His character or drill into only one aspect of the infinite spectrum of His qualities. Thinkers of the past, like Thomas Aquinas and Aristotle, have been referenced to make a case for God as a being who does not experience emotion. It’s called the doctrine of Divine Impassibility. The basic (extremely simplified) idea is that God doesn’t change (which I agree with). Emotions are so changeable (which I also agree with). Therefore, God doesn’t experience emotions (not sure I agree with that one).
The logic makes some sense, but there are some additional matters that need to be considered. While human emotions can have us happy one moment and depressed the next as we respond to circumstances or brain chemicals, God is different with everything about Him stable and righteous. Nevertheless, the Bible presents the Almighty at various times as delighted, grieved, joyful, regretful, angry and tender. It’s always in the context, however, of His righteous character interacting with the imperfect, unrighteous ones He loves—never merely out-of-control, knee-jerk impulses. His goodness and holiness are constant throughout the scriptures. We could say that His emotions do not control Him, but at various times they highlight what He values. Overall, it appears to me that God has feelings and that He is rightly moved by them.
A Father’s Heart
The New Testament carries a strong theme of God as our Father. Does that mean He has the feelings of a dad toward His kids? I think so.
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Recently I assisted my two young granddaughters in making a craft/snack project. With the help of their grandmother, we made little “bird nests” out of peanut butter, chocolate and crunchy chow mein noodles. As a final touch, we placed three colorful jelly beans in each. The girls were delighted, especially when I told them we could eat them later. However, every time a nest was full, and I glanced away for a moment, my gaze returned to find an “egg” or two missing. Delayed gratification is a foreign concept for two and three year olds.
It’s not until a child is five or older that she can even begin to comprehend the benefits of restraining those immediate urges. I like to think that I have moved beyond preschoolers in the self-control department. However, when I step on the scale and grimace at the number that appears, why do I not stop my unhealthy late-night snacking? Satisfying my short-term appetites still dominates much of my behavior. Studies have shown that those who learn to defer gratification have greater success in many areas of life—academic and social competence as well as physical and psychological health. Might it also apply to spiritual wholeness and well-being?
What’s so good about waiting?
Of course, one of the Fruits of the Spirit is self control (Galatians 5:22). This tells me that an indicator of the indwelling Spirit of God is my own spirit’s ability to govern itself according to God’s desires and design. A lack of self control implies that there are still resistors within impeding the flow of the Holy Spirit’s presence and will. Fruit, afterall, naturally appears on healthy plants. Thus difficulty in managing my negative impulses, be they angry, controlling, eating, sexual or verbal, indicates God’s Spirit does not yet have full sway in my life.
It’s also a matter of what has my attention in the moment. One of the conditions that hinders the development of deferred gratification is a focus on avoiding discomfort with little-to-no thought for future ramifications. Like most everyone, I want to feel good and satisfied now. I appreciate the immediate benefits the Bible presents to followers of Jesus, like peace, joy and forgiveness as we put our faith in Him. But much of what the scriptures offer are promises for the future.
Hope is the confidence that there is good ahead regardless how life is going at the moment. The way things are today—difficult, negative or evil—is not how they’re going to remain. That’s hope! The problem, however, is that we often place it in things, events, advice or people that are not reliable or at best short-term (read “Choosing to Put My Hope in Something Worthy”). Much of what Jesus told His followers had them looking into the future with growing expectation. In fact, to be a follower of Jesus even today one must let go of demanding that every question, problem, pain, doubt or discomfort be resolved instantly—or even in this lifetime. Resolution is coming, though we don’t see or feel it now. Patience, also called long-suffering, is one of the most difficult yet necessary virtues for us to embrace as long-term Jesus followers.
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I was encouraged as a child to memorize the Ten Commandments. The meaning of the rules seemed clear to me except the last one. “Thou shalt not covet.” Around that same age, I heard the word “covenant” used in a Sunday-morning sermon. Jesus had come to make a new covenant with us. It seemed strange then that God commanded us not to do something that Jesus came to give us. Years later I sorted out the difference. But even today, the meaning of the word “covet” can be fuzzy for me and many Jesus followers. How did it make it into the list of the Big Ten? Why is coveting so bad?
I eventually concluded that coveting is all about desiring things I don’t have. This understanding fed a mindset I had developed growing up that it was best to not want things so I wouldn’t be disappointed. As a result, I taught myself to live with little, letting desires die that felt beyond my reach, labeling many of them as “bad.” The reasoning was usually something like this: if I desire it, it must not be God’s will. This worked fine when I was single but didn’t fly once I got married and started a family. Those dependent on me didn’t have the same tolerance for doing without. And there was also that growing suspicion that many desires weren’t dead, just buried and still trying to come out of the grave—zombie-like. Cravings deep inside were still longing to be satisfied. And I was afraid of the temptations and disappointments I would have to face if they ever made it to the surface.
What’s the Focus of My Desire?
Here’s one English dictionary definition of the word “covet”: “to desire wrongfully, inordinately or without due regard for the rights of others.” This is helpful, but there’s more to it. The original Hebrew word “chamad” translated into English as “covet” simply means “desire.” The same Hebrew word is used in Psalm 19:10 where the writer is reflecting on the goodness of the Lord’s commandments: “More to be desired [chamad] are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb.” Is the Bible saying there are desires that are good and should be encouraged?
Okay. But what scares me about my desires is that they seem unlimited and can so easily get out of control. In fact, they have gotten out of control in the past, many times. Yet I read scriptures like Psalm 37:4 “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” What exactly are those? And if there are desires God wants to fulfill, how do I identify them?
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Someone once pulled me aside after a class I taught and said something close to the following: “I can’t believe that God is loving. He put people in the Garden along with a tree He told them not to touch, saying it would lead to their death. He set them up to fall. How can He be good?”
I don’t remember my immediate response, but I’ve since pondered that final question quite a bit. Why would God deliberately place a deadly forbidden object within the easy reach of those He claimed to love? No responsible parent today would keep an open box of poison in their home within reach of their small child and simply say, “Don’t touch it, or you will die.” Child Protection Services would have good reason to investigate.
In all my reflections, I have always chosen to start with the premise that God is good. That’s what the Bible states over and over, and it seems fair to study a Bible story within the context of the Bible as a whole. So, I ask myself, how does this tree-leading-to-death scenario in Eden fit into God’s loving character? As Creator, couldn’t He have put such a tree beyond human reach, or better yet not have made it at all? What was His purpose, and how could it possibly be good?
Genesis chapter 2 tells us that the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was accessible yet forbidden. But there was another tree in the Garden with no restrictions on it—The Tree of Life. It seems that God wanted them to eat the fruit of this second tree. It would ensure they always had His divine life within them. Instead in a crazy twist, they chose the forbidden fruit that promised death. Wouldn’t it have been better if God had not given them a choice at all?
What’s the Big Deal About Choices?
“Free-will” is an idea I hear thrown around in philosophical and theological discussions, but what is it, and why is it controversial? According to an online dictionary it is “the power of acting without the constraint of necessity or fate; the ability to act at one’s own discretion.” In other words, to possess free will means that I can make choices that are purely my own, that originate within myself. My will is mine. It may be influenced by outside forces, be they the manipulations and demands of other people, my family history, my own bad habits or my inherited DNA. The concept of free-will, however, says I can choose to disregard all influences and do things that go against my biology, my genealogy, my social environment and even my past choices. I can do unexpected, contradictory things simply because, in my own heart, I decide to. At least that’s the theory.
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The note was addressed to the leadership of our ministry, but for some reason it was put in my box to deal with. A few weeks earlier our facility had been used as a wedding venue. Several of our ministry staff volunteered to help with the logistics of the celebration. A couple hundred people had sat through the ceremony and then stood in a reception line before sitting down for a meal. Part of the line went up a short flight of stairs. The note was from someone who attended the wedding and observed an elderly man struggle to get up the five steps. The writer was deeply concerned that no one assisted the man. The punch line of the message was, “How can you call yourselves a Christian mission organization when not one of your staff helped him? I will certainly never support your ministry when you won’t even serve the needy in your own building.”
My first impulse was anger. How can this person blame us for something that dozens of others stood and passively watched? Our staff were in the kitchen helping prepare the meal; they weren’t even there. And where was the note-writer in all this? Why didn’t she provide the needed assistance? But then after a few minutes of stewing, I felt the pang of the allegation. Why didn’t one of us help? How did we not notice this need? Were there others who thought badly about us? How could we show people that we really are good?
What’s under the surface?
Sure, there are situations where charges of wrongdoing are appropriate and need to be made. When we see injustice, almost everyone desires it to be made right. People should be held accountable for hurtful behavior so that changes can be instituted and wrongs corrected. But behind many informal indictments of wrong doing there is more going on. Accusers want to see someone suffer for the hurt that’s been inflicted. The urge for payback is strong when a person has been offended or unjustly treated (read post on Anger). And then there are times when accusers are projecting their own sense of guilt or shame onto another (which is what I believe was happening with the note-writer). Finding someone to blame for the wrong around us or our own failings seems as natural as breathing. However, accusations thrown at others easily morph into full-fledged judgments and plots for vengeance.
But, with what are we aligning ourselves when we become finger pointers?
Jesus said, “Do not judge others, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn others, or it will come back against you. Forgive others, and you will be forgiven” (Luke 6:37 NLT). There is a “boomerang” spirit that is loosed when I begin to damn others for their sins and failings. I can’t escape being negatively affected as much, if not more, than the person I’m condemning. When I zero-in on another person’s fault, bad behavior or transgression, be it legitimate or merely something I’m imagining, I end up rehearsing the offense over and over in my thoughts. It easily plants itself and grows. The Bible calls it a root of bitterness (Hebrews 12:15). The deeper this shoot goes down into my soul the more evil the other person appears and the more righteous my position feels. With the bitterness comes a blindness that distorts the way I see other parts of reality.
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I like to feel good. It’s a basic urge within me to chase happiness wherever I think it can be found. My country’s Declaration of Independence affirms the pursuit of it to be an inalienable right. When I imagine myself in a happy state, I see a hammock swaying between two Ponderosa pine trees overlooking a secluded mountain lake as the sun gently warms my face. There’s a good book lying open on my chest and a bowl of ice cream in one hand. Of course to complete the scene, I just inherited a million dollars, and everyone likes me. Oh, and people in the world have stopped fighting each other.
This may not be your picture of happiness, but it’s the first one that comes to my mind. The problem, however, is that there are too many circumstantial pieces outside my control. I may find the actual setting in some mountainous region, but it could also be raining that day. I might then discover the hammock has a rip in it; the book is boring; the ice cream is freezer-burnt; an email concerning an overdrawn checking account is in my inbox, and someone has left an angry rant on one of my blog posts. And what chance is there of everybody in the world showing kindness to each other? Ugh.
Happiness can be so elusive.
Is There Another Way?
In the Bible, happiness is often associated with blessings. I feel so blessed when circumstances line up with my ideals and personal comfort. I like God’s blessings of provision and favor. It’s not too hard then to have a good attitude, say a few more kind words to those around me and feel like a good Christian. But what do I do when I don’t see or feel the blessings? Sometimes life just looks and feels bad, and all the factors for happiness seem outside my control.
The Bible also speaks of something called joy. For most my life, I collapsed these two words together, happiness and joy, into one meaning: being in control and feeling good. Yet, I am now perceiving some important distinctions.
I recently spent several weeks on a tropical island with a ministry outreach team. While for many the words “tropical island” conjure scenes of ideal vacations and images of “the good life”, I struggled with feeling miserable. The heat and humidity were like nothing I experience in Minnesota. There was no air conditioning, and frequent power outages made fans unpredictable. Add in mosquitos, sleeping on wooden floors, long walks to pungent outhouses in the dark, and you can get a sense of how my happiness buttons were not being pushed. I needed something outside my circumstances.
Then one afternoon a young man shared stories of growing up without a father. In the blazing sun, my clothing drenched in sweat, I listened. At first it was a struggle to concentrate on his words, but then a tear rolled down one cheek. I saw the deep part of his soul he was baring and how much God wanted to communicate His love to this man.
A whisper that I knew was the Holy Spirit sounded in my ear, “This is where you’ll find your strength.” As I continued to listen and interact with my new friend, something happened. A refreshment welled up and spread throughout my body. My skin remained hot and sweaty, and body odor permeated the air, but it now seemed far away. I longed for him to know the Heavenly Father’s acceptance, love and destiny for his life. Joy bubbled up and changed everything for me, giving new energy to love this man.
Read MoreVoices. They ring in my ears and shout in my mind. I don’t seem to be able to rid myself of their pressure. They want to be my guide, to instruct me in what I ought to do. They cajole, threaten, rationalize, alarm, accuse and soothe me at different moments. Often the easiest thing to do is submit to their demands. Is this my version of going crazy? Or is it an internal obstacle course that every human navigates? When I stop to honestly examine what’s going on, I find the common thread of these cries to be distress and anxieties about what others think of me. They’re powerful. And they expect to be obeyed.
The closest explanation I find in the Bible labels what I’m experiencing as the “fear of man.” This sensitivity to others’ opinions and voices works to keep me on a certain path. Where this road leads, I have no idea. I just know that it feels intolerable to stray from it. Only later, sometimes much later, I realize it has taken me to places I didn’t want to go. I then see that I was listening to the wrong thing.
“Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe” (Proverbs 29:25).
The Bible reveals that there is a trap laid for me, and I must be alert. If my ultimate concern when making decisions is appeasing the voices of people (be they inside or outside my head) I will eventually be caught in something that keeps me from going where I truly need to and want to be. And it will be exceedingly difficult to get out of it. How to avoid such a snare? Trust the Lord and not the smooth-sounding or coarse-accusing voices ringing in my ears.
Fear of Man vs. Fear of the Lord
The idea of “fearing man” does not necessarily mean being afraid of people (or the male gender in particular). I understand it to be more about holding certain people’s opinions in high regard, to the point of letting them be the final say in what I do or don’t do. Who are those who have this kind of power in my life?
They’re the ones with whom I have the most social capital invested. They can also be the ones that intimidate me the most. They know how to push my shame buttons or even inflame my anger. They can be the non-specific, disembodied group always looking over my shoulder, quick to shake their heads in disapproval. They ridicule choices I make or opinions I hold but soothingly nod approval when I submit. To disregard their voice (or at least the voice I believe is theirs) feels disorienting, scary, intolerable. I usually have many rational-sounding reasons for why it makes sense to fall in line. Another way of saying it: the “fear of man” is the worship of people’s approval, be they a real or imaginary group or a judgmental individual in my face.
The Bible also speaks of a concept called the “fear of the Lord.” This does not necessarily equal feeling afraid or intimidated by God. But similar to the “fear of man,” it means to hold God’s opinion highest in respect above all other real or imagined opinions. It means to be most concerned about how He will respond to any decision I make or activity I involve myself with. Thus the “fear of the Lord” is the opposite of the “fear of man.” Choosing to cultivate this mindset and heart attitude of honoring God is the way we avoid the trap. “Fearing” Him in this way is how we express our trust in the Lord.
The Single Concern of Joseph
While there are many illustrations of “fearing God” in the Bible, I want to highlight one. In Genesis 39:1-18 we’re told that after being sold into slavery by his brothers, Joseph was purchased by a wealthy Egyptian named Potiphar and made chief administrator of his household. We’re also told that Potiphar’s wife tried to seduce Joseph one day. He responded by simply running away. But she kept hold of his cloak and then used it as evidence that there had been an attempted rape. As a slave, there was no due process, and Joseph was thrown in prison. While most people know how the story takes a miraculous turn in the end, exalting him from prisoner to second in command of the entire country, it’s Joseph’s response to Potiphar’s wife I focus on here.
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“I love you with all my heart.” I’ve heard this phrase a few times in my life, and it always brings a smile to my face. It’s a stereotypical expression that usually comes from someone trying to express deep feelings but hasn’t come up with a more creative way to say it. Yet as long as it comes from the heart, we’re usually okay with this quaint expression. But what does it mean? Why love from the heart?
Most people I know, relate a person’s heart (not to be confused with the physiological blood-pumping organ) to their emotional response. In other words, to love someone with all your heart means to feel your love for that person deeply. Interestingly, that’s not the biblical understanding of the heart. A Bible professor once told me that the ancient Hebrews associated deep feelings not with the heart but with the bowels. Try that on your significant other: I love you with all my bowels. There’s a reason that hasn’t caught on. The biblical perception of the heart has less to do with feelings and more to do with choices—the will. Biblically speaking, the heart is understood to be the executive center that oversees the whole person. My heart directs the path I take and all my responses to outside circumstances.
The Executive Center of My Being
So, it is in my heart where I determine how I engage with the world. My actions, attitudes and words all flow from the mysterious workings of this place inside me. Of course, the Bible has a lot to say about the heart. We’re told that we are to guard it because it determines the course of our life (Proverbs 4:23). We learn that it’s capable of being deceived and extremely wicked (Jeremiah 17:9). But we’re also informed that it can be pure and sincere (Matthew 5:8; Colossians 3:22). In addition, Jesus said we’re to love God with all of it (Mark 12:30). Whatever direction one’s heart goes, it takes the rest of the person along. It’s no wonder that in seeking an intimate relationship with each of us, it is the heart that Jesus asks to be given to Him. For when He has my heart, He has me.
And that’s the trick. Our hearts don’t naturally want to be given completely to someone else, especially to a divine Lord. To the heart that doesn’t recognize who Jesus is, such a request appears as an invitation to captivity and slavery. But for the one who sees Him as the rightful Lord and source of all life, to submit control to Him is peace and the beginning of true freedom.
A Stony Heart Toward God?
But so often our hearts resist Him. We harden our will against God and His ways. Every heart has this ability to harden or soften its attitude and response toward another person. The condition of my heart is determined by the beliefs I entertain about others. Do I see them as good or bad, for me or against me, trustworthy or unreliable? It’s the same with how I perceive and what I believe about God. And with Him, I can also harden my heart by simply ignoring Him. This is especially true when He shows me something He wants me to do or respond to and I simply say, “no” or convince myself that that wasn’t God communicating to me. When I do this, it’s like I’m spraying my heart with a protective coating of concrete that dulls my ability to sense His prompts or hear His voice.
The most famous hard heart in the Bible is Pharaoh. The story is told in the Book of Exodus, chapters 7-14, how this Egyptian king resisted letting the Israelites, whom he had enslaved, leave. But where it gets confusing is that many times it’s worded that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart, and that’s why the man refused to respond to all the miracles he witnessed.
Some people interpret this to mean that God overrode Pharaoh’s will. It seems more likely to me, however considering the rest of scripture, that God, who searches and knows every heart (Jeremiah 17:10) merely saw which direction the king’s will was already bent and let him go the direction his heart was leading him. Often when people are already resistant, added pressure only pushes them harder into their obstinate position. The pride of Pharaoh was such that he would not submit his “executive center” to anyone, no matter how many miracles he saw. His heart hardened more with each time God confronted it with a supernatural display.
Hardness of heart is a condition that even followers of Jesus must be concerned about. It’s a soft heart that God is looking for in His followers. When our hearts are tender, they sense what God is wanting from them. We may not like it at the moment and it may be inconvenient, but soft hearts respond to God’s stirrings. Crusty layers of hardness develop as we decide we don’t want to submit to Him on specific issues. It may be through overt defiance or a more subtle passive negligence of just not paying attention. Either way, hardness and callouses of insensitivity grow thicker as choices to resist or ignore become more automatic. And it’s later that we wonder why we can’t feel the love of God anymore or hear His voice like we used to. Hearts grow hard, they don’t transform into stone overnight.
What’s the Condition of My Heart?
I first have to recognize the signs of a hard heart. Once I see where I’m susceptible, I can address my condition by asking God for help. It is amazing how willing He is to lead us in the softening process if we will only humbly ask. While there’s probably many indicators, I can think of three obvious ones.
1) A hard heart is insensitive to the pain of others. Lack of sensitivity, especially to those who are unlike me, is a common symptom of a heart growing crusty. God in His holiness is very unlike me. I and many like me have hardened ourselves to what He desires. With our whole nation being confronted with racism right now, have we asked God how He feels about where we’re at? Our insensitivity to the hardships or injustice others are facing often is indicative of our insensitivity to God. God has feelings, and they may be different than ours. Have we asked Him to show us what they are? He has much He desires to reveal to us regarding many matters, if we’ll open our hearts.
2) A hard heart cannot be penetrated with new ideas or perspectives. The inability to consider what’s outside my own context, be it political, religious or philosophical is a bright red flag of warning that stony callouses may be growing. It’s not that I have to accept everyone else’s view point as right or good, but can I humbly listen without accusations or defensiveness? God’s perspective often challenges me if I’ll just stop and ask Him what He wants me to see. The problem is I often think I already know what His perspective is, or I just don’t care.
3) A hard heart cannot adjust or flex to embrace something that feels strange or unknown. Sometimes this has to do with fear of change. But often for me it is due to my hatred of discomfort and mental dissonance. Walking with God is not comfortable. He challenges me a lot as a good Father should. I have had to adjust many personal opinions, habits and beliefs over the years in light of His Word. If Jesus’ followers cannot flex and change as the Word of God directs us, we will eventually be broken in our brittleness. Only soft hearts can be reshaped without being crushed.
Ultimately, it’s a soft heart that can learn to love. And you can ask God for one. It is His will for all of us to be able to sincerely say to each other and especially to Him, “I love you with all my heart.”
Response: