Keep the Heart

“Your heart rate is too low,” my doctor said.

At a recent physical, my doctor did a baseline EKG and discovered that my resting heart rate was far below normal. I then found myself searching for a cardiologist for the first time in my nearly forty-eight years of life. A week later, I was given a heart rate monitor to wear. The contraption was glued to my chest and I wore it 24/7 for a week. I hope to soon learn the results.

As we well know—whether we passed 9th grade biology or not—the heart is what keeps us alive. This muscle pumps blood through the circulatory system to the rest of the body and beats about 100,000 times a day. It rests in the center of our chest and is central to our life and wellness.

I don’t know about you, but I rarely think about the work my heart is doing and until I hit forty, I hardly thought about what it needed to remain healthy. But our heart does need monitoring and care. That’s why the doctor listens to it at each visit and urges patients to stay away from fried and fatty foods.

The Bible talks about the heart a lot. Not so much our physical heart—though we ought to steward its care. Rather, the Bible talks about our spiritual heart, what lies at the center of who we are. Contrary to cheesy romance movies, when the Bible talks about our heart, it doesn’t mean the source of our feelings as opposed to our thoughts, as in “just follow your heart.” Rather, the Bible uses the word “heart” to refer to the core of who we are and it includes our thoughts, feelings, desires, choices, and will. All these act on and influence the other, with our desires often leading the way.

The Bible also teaches us that the heart is fallen in sin—a condition which began with the fall of man in Genesis 3. “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). It is not our circumstances or what other people do or say that is the source of our problems. As Jesus taught, it is not what is outside of us that defiles us, but what is in us. “What comes out of a person is what defiles him. For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person” (Mark 7:20-23). James teaches that disordered desires of the heart cause our conflicts in life, “What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you?” (James 4:1).

Because of this, Proverbs urges us to guard the heart, “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life” (4:23). The Hebrew word for “keep” is the same word used to talk about the watchmen who stand watch on the walls of the city, alert and ready to respond when enemies come near. The word is used to mean preserving or maintaining as well as protecting and guarding.[1] When it comes to keeping our heart, we need to both preserve and protect it.

To preserve our heart, we keep it healthy. We nurture it and tend to it by feasting on the Word of God. We allow the Word to examine and try our hearts. God gave us His Spirit who uses the Word to sanctify our hearts—to change and transform us from the inside out. The more we study and meditate on the Word, the more we see the true state of our hearts. We see those things which don’t belong, the sins which we so easily ignore. We see the pride, self-righteousness, and selfishness. We the see ways in which we fail to love God with all heart, our disordered desires and idols we worship—those things we look to for hope and life and meaning apart from God. As the Spirit uses the Word to convict us and show us our sin, we look to his grace to remind us of the gospel and who we are in Christ. We confess and repent and rejoice in the gospel which saves us. The Spirit then helps us remove those idols we worship and grow in greater love and knowledge of our Savior.

We also must guard our heart, keeping watch for those things which tempt, deceive, and draw us into sin, including ungodly influences from the world and temptations from evil. As Ephesians 6 reminds us, “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (v.12). We wear our Ephesians 6 armaments into battle each day, aware that arrows are flying at us left and right. And we follow Jesus’ command to watch and pray (Matthew 26:41).

In all our heart-keeping, we must never forget that God is the ultimate heart-keeper for nothing can separate us from his great love for us in Christ. And more, he has provided the means of grace for us to preserve and protect our heart. We have the gift of the Spirit who lives within us, the very power of God—the same power who raised Christ from the dead. We have all the promises of God fulfilled in Jesus Christ. We have access to the throne of grace. We have the very Word of God to read, study, and meditate upon. And we have the community of faith which walks beside us in the journey.

No doubt, I am very aware of my physical heart these days and the need to monitor it. To keep and protect it. Even as I do so, I know it has an expiration date. However, my spiritual heart does not. How much more ought I to keep it? For it is my life. “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life” (4:23).

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

[1] With All Your Heart by A. Craig Troxel, p. 155.

Coming Soon: The Great Big Sad

Grief and loss. It’s a reality we all experience at some point in our lives. It’s something we don’t think about until it happens. Perhaps you remember the first person of significance in your life who died, how you felt, how you grieved. Grief always hits us in ways we could not have anticipated. It is painful. It’s multi-layered. It’s often complicated. It comes in waves. And it never really goes away.

What makes grief all that more challenging is when we need to help our children navigate their own grief. How do we walk alongside our children as they face the loss of someone they loved and cherished? How do we help them when we are caught up in our own grief? How do we point them to Christ in the midst of such sorrow?

My third book in the series of books about siblings, Josh and Mia, releases soon. You may have read Tell God How You Feel or God Hears Your Heart—both books are directed at helping children learn to bring their emotions to the Lord. The Great Big Sad follows Josh and Mia as they hear the hard news that a beloved relative has died. We see them respond to the news in their own way. Throughout the book, they learn ways to express their grief, to talk about it with others, and even ways to honor their loved one’s memory. They also find comfort and hope in the gospel and the promise of the resurrection.

The book includes a letter to parents, helping parents with practical tips in coming alongside their children as they grieve. There are also discussion questions to use with children to talk about what they learned from the story. While The Great Big Sad is the story about a hard and painful loss, it’s also a hope-filled book, one that points children to Jesus.

The Great Big Sad is available for pre-order now. Sign ups for a launch team will be up soon. Stay tuned to The Great Big Sad landing page here on the blog for a link to sign up. Launch team members will receive early access to the book and help spread the word about its release. I hope you will join us!

Foxes Have Holes

One year for my birthday, I asked a dear friend to paint me something with a fox in it. I didn’t have anything particular in mind of what it should look like; I knew I would love whatever she created. At my birthday, she presented me with a carefully wrapped package. I unopened it to find, not one, but three framed paintings. One painting was of a fox peaking out of a hole. The second was of a bird standing guard at its nest of eggs. The third was of a crown of thorns with a trio of crosses in the background. Included in the gift was a letter that explained how Jesus’ encounter with a scribe in Matthew 8 inspired my friend’s work.

“And a scribe came up and said to him, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Matt. 8:19-20).

Not only were the paintings beautiful, but they reflected the fact that my friend and I were reading and studying the Scriptures together, seeking to understand what it means to follow Christ. We often discussed those things we needed to die to in order to obey him. That was over a dozen years ago. Today, the paintings hang on a wall outside my office where I walk by them every day. The irony is not lost on me that they hang in my home, in a place I own, a place of comfort and safety, while my Savior never had a home of his own. These paintings remind me that following Christ is not easy.

John Calvin commented that the scribe in this passage lived an easy life. He was honored by the community. He had every need met. Calvin wrote: “He wishes indeed to follow Christ, but dreams of an easy and agreeable life, and of dwellings filled with every convenience; whereas the disciples of Christ must walk among thorns, and march to the cross amidst uninterrupted afflictions.” What a contrast! Jesus tells the scribe that even the animals have what he doesn’t have—is he really willing to follow in his footsteps? Does he know the cost? Is he willing to pay it?

Far too often in our western Christian culture, the call to follow Christ has been watered down so much that people don’t hear, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Instead, they hear: “Follow Jesus and he’ll give you the house of your dreams. He’ll make your life smooth and carefree.” In doing so, they believe a false gospel. A gospel that doesn’t save. Yet, Jesus makes it clear that there is a price to following him:

• “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24).

• “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account” (Matt. 5:11).

• “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it?…So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26-28, 33).

Ultimately, it is the price of homelessness, of being aliens and strangers in a world that is not our own (1 Pet. 2:11, Heb. 11:13). But for those who do follow him, the reward far outweighs the cost: being restored in right relationship with our Maker and eternity spent in his presence.

While I’m thankful for the home in which I live (which I affectionately call “The Fox Den”), I never forget that my Savior had no place to lay his head. That’s because he wasn’t rooted to this world. His sojourn here models for me my own. I am to store up treasure in heaven, not on earth. To follow him, I must hold all things loosely, find him alone to be my place of safety, and to live like a pilgrim in this world until he returns to take me home.

Photo by Katerina Bartosova on Unsplash

What the Gospel Says to Those Who Suffer

He’s forgotten how to walk.

This thought hit me as I gripped by father’s arm and urged him forward across the living room. I found myself instructing him: Push down on your cane. Lift your foot. Put it down. Push down on your cane again. As we approached the chair he wanted to sit in, I again coached him through the steps required for him to turn around and sit back into the chair safely.

Later, he turned to me and asked, “What is your name?”

“Christina,” I responded. “What your name?” I asked in return.

He paused and with a bit of hesitation, told me his name. I smiled and nodded.

I handed him the photo book I gave him for Christmas last year. The one that had pictures of my family with our names and facts about us. It includes photos of my boys, one in his football uniform, the other in his cross country uniform. He keeps the album next to his chair to flip through when he wants to remember something.

It wasn’t an hour later that he shared with me a memory of visiting me where we used to live in Florida. He described the neighborhood and details about our house. But then another hour later, he was staring off into space, lost in world of his own.

My husband and I made this trip after learning that my father’s Alzheimer’s had worsened and my mother needed help. It made matters worse that hurricane Ian had just whipped through Florida and the power was out everywhere. On our drive down the interstate, we past one power truck after another, pickups pulling large generators, and disaster response teams. They were all headed to meet the needs of people after a horrific storm.

We were headed to see how we could help in my parent’s personal storm.

Alzheimer’s is everything you hear about and more. It’s as heartbreaking as you can imagine. It is debilitating. It causes confusion and fear. Most of all, it’s a thief, first of treasured memories, then of basic life skills. It’s like taking apart a puzzle, one piece at a time. But not in any kind of order; rather, in a random sort of way. The picture retains its outer shape, but the inside has holes scattered throughout. Those holes only get bigger and bigger.

Until there’s no picture left at all.

I have to believe that the gospel has something to say to those suffering the wretched horror of Alzheimer’s or every other disease we experience in life. It has to say something to those who find themselves at death’s waiting room, not knowing when their name will be called. It has to say something to those who care for the suffering, who pour themselves out day and night to meet the needs of a loved one who can’t do for themselves anymore.

The gospel has to speak to those who suffer.

And it does. In fact the entire Bible is the story of a God who cared about his people’s suffering so much, he entered into time and history in order to do something about it. Whenever I experience personal suffering and I need to preach the gospel to my heart, to remind myself of who God is and what he has done and why that matters in the dark moments of life, I always return to the beginning of the story. In returning to the beginning, we are reminded that diseases such as Alzheimer’s find their origins in the fall of man, for when God created the world, there was no illness. There was no decay. Our first parent’s bodies worked as they were created to. They had no aches or pains—no disease that ravaged and destroyed the bodies God had made. Their lives were complete and whole. It wasn’t until that moment in the garden where Adam and Eve broke God’s law and ate from the Tree that sin then entered the world, and along with it, sickness and death.

All disease traces its roots back to that day. That’s why we are right to grieve the physical illnesses and pains of life, because they do not belong; they are not part of God’s original creation.

But God showed his grace to our parents that day when he found them attempting to hide from him, ashamed of what they had done. God not only covered their sin and shame, but he also made a promise, what theologians call the proto-evangelium—the first gospel. In Genesis 3:15, God promised a rescuer, one who would go up against Satan and defeat him—one who would rescue us from the wretched curse of sin and death.

Jesus came to fulfill that promise. He came to conquer sin and death. He came to break the curse of sin that separates us from the One who made us. And he did so through his perfect life and sacrificial death on our behalf. The gospel assures those who suffer that our Savior suffered for us so that we will not suffer for all eternity. He made us right with God so that now, through faith in Christ, we have the assurance of eternity forever in a place where there is no more sin, sickness, or sorrow. We are cleansed from sin, forgiven, and made new creations. Because Jesus rose from the grave, he ensured our own resurrection at the last day. On that day, we will have bodies that are whole and complete, free from sin, and free from the ravages of illness and disease. What a glorious thing to imagine!

The gospel not only gives us hope for the future, but it also gives us hope right now in the present. It tells us that our Savior knows our pain; he knows our suffering. The Bible calls him the “Man of Sorrows.” “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed” (Is. 53:4-5). The author to the Hebrews says, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (4:15-16). We have a compassionate Savior who knows what life is like in a fallen world. He calls us to come to the throne and bear our lay our burdens before him. And he promises grace and help in our time of need.

Even more, when he left to return to the Father, Jesus sent his Spirit who now lives within his people. The Spirit fills us with hope as he reminds us of God’s word, as he counsels and comforts our weary hearts, as he equips and enables us to do the work we are called to, and as he transforms us into the image of Christ. We have the very Spirit of Christ living within us. The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead is at work in our hearts. It is this Spirit who even now prays for us when we are too weary to pray for ourselves. “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God” (Rom. 8:26-27).

Over the past year, my parents’ days were reduced to the square feet of their house, where the routine was consistent, making life predictable and safe for my dad. One routine was their evening Bible study where my mom read aloud to my dad. I don’t know how much it impacted him in recent weeks as his disease worsened, but I pray that the words of life and the promises of God’s grace for him in Christ—words he’s heard his whole life—brings comfort and peace as he enters into another stage of his disease.

It was hard to see my father so debilitated. I felt helpless. It grieved my heart. It’s not right for a child to instruct a parent in how to do the basic things of life. It reverses the natural order of things. In those moments of helplessness, I just kept praying, “Father, please provide.” He did and I know he will continue to do so. My father is now in a long term care facility where he will receive the care he needs—until the day when he meets his Savior face to face.

Life in this fallen world is hard. It’s painful. It’s filled with sorrow. But for those who trust in Christ, we do not grieve as those who have no hope. For our hope is found in a person, our Savior, who suffered on our behalf, and who will one day return to take away our suffering once and for all.

Father in heaven, I pray for all those who are wounded by the effects of life in this fallen world, whose bodies betray them by sickness and disease. The sorrow and fear they feel is great and at times just as debilitating as the disease. And just as great for those who provide care. I pray that you would comfort the hurting with your perfect love. I pray you would shower your grace upon them, that they would know the depths of your love for them. That you would be with them. That you would sustain them and carry them. Until that day when Jesus returns to make all things new. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Photo by Dominik Scythe on Unsplash

When What is Broken is Made Whole

Those who know me, know how much I love antiques. I love exploring those big shops filled with individually run booths with displays of items from yester year. I especially enjoy looking at things that people used in everyday life, imagining who used it, and what their life was like.

One year, after a day spent exploring antique shops, I purchased an old secretary desk. I loved the pull down front, complete with a lock and skeleton key. The space for writing was covered in faded red leather, and behind it stood slots and cubbies waiting to be filled with stationery supplies. It was built of solid honey stained oak and I pictured a woman from a hundred years before, sitting at the desk, writing a letter to a loved one far away.

I placed the secretary in the back of my van and headed home. The problem was (and still is!), I’m not the packer in my family and didn’t think about securing it in any way. The first bump I drove over made the desk toppled over. As soon as I heard a thud, I had a bad feeling. When I arrived home and opened the back of the van, I discovered the desk had fallen apart in pieces. Many pieces.

I was crushed.

My husband and father-in-law took charge. They applied wood glue to all the pieces and held them together with clamps. A couple days later, the desk stood there as it had before. You couldn’t tell it had fallen apart.

That was almost fifteen years ago and the desk still stands tall in my kitchen. I often look at it and remember the sorrow I felt when it broke apart and the joy I felt when it was mended. It reminds me of my own life and how the Lord has healed my own brokenness. It reminds me that even when things are at their worst, there is still hope. Because God is a God of redemption. He takes what is broken and makes it whole. I can attest to this in my own life and have witnessed it in the lives of others.

But the greatest testimony of this is that of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Imagine what the disciples must have thought and felt when they saw Jesus crucified. I imagine not only the great grief but also the despair and hopelessness. How could anything come of Jesus’ death? But then the resurrection! They saw Jesus’ broken body healed. They talked and walked and ate with him. And because Jesus conquered death and overcame the grave, he now sits at the right hand of God. He reigns on high and even now is at work to make all things new. “And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5).

Jesus defeated sin and death. And by his perfect life lived for us and his sacrificial death in our place, he redeems and restores us. He cleanses us from sin. He brings us back into right relationship with God. He makes all that is broken whole. Indeed, those who are in Christ are new creations (Rom. 6:11, 2 Cor. 5:17). The Spirit is at work in us even now, transforming us into the image of Christ. And one day, that work will be complete. What glorious hope we have in Christ!

Life often seems like my broken secretary desk, fallen apart into too many pieces to count. But God can do even more than simply glue the pieces of life back together; he gives new life. He transforms.

Have you seen God take what is broken and make it new?

Photo by Jazmin Quaynor on Unsplash

He Knows Our Sorrows

Have you ever watched a television series or a movie that was a real tear jerker? Maybe it was something that everyone raved about and then you watch it and afterward felt like you’d experienced emotional whiplash. When that happens to me, I then want to go back to that friend who recommended it and ask, “Why did you do that to me?”

It’s not as though I don’t like tear jerkers; I’m just not always emotionally ready to watch something that will make me cry. I like to be prepared beforehand to know I am going to walk away from a television show or movie feeling emotionally exhausted.

If only we had such a choice in real life. If only we could choose the time and date when we are emotionally prepared to experience something heavy and hard. If only we could push pause on difficult times of life or better, change the channel all together.

We know all too well that real life is not like that. All too often, the sorrows of life come upon us when we least expect it. And there’s no pushing pause or changing the channel. That’s because life in a fallen world is hard. We experience loss and heartache and trial on the regular. Jesus himself said that we would have troubles and sorrows in this world (Jn. 16:33). Peter instructed us to not be surprised by trials when they come (1 Pet. 4:12).

While the hardships of real life are nothing like watching them unfold on a movie screen, we do have a compassionate Savior who knows and understands the sorrows we bear. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15). Our Savior knew well the grief and fear, hardship and poverty, rejection and injustice, temptation and loneliness we face in this fallen world (Heb. 2:17).

Jesus Christ was born not in a castle, but in a stable. His parents were not royalty; his father was a poor carpenter. He was rejected by the people of his own hometown. John tells us that Jesus knew grief as he wept at the grave of his friend Lazarus. He was betrayed by Judas, mere hours after he washed his feet. On the night before he was arrested, he cried out to the Father in lament, asking that the cup be taken from him, all the while trusting in his Father’s will. As he anticipated what was to come, his agony was so great, he sweat drops of blood. HIs friends then went on to abandon him at his darkest hour. Upon his arrest, he was mocked, beaten, and crucified for our sins. Isaiah sums up the sufferings of our Savior well: “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed” (Is. 53:4-5).

The fact that our Savior knows what it is to suffer life in a fallen world is important; it reminds us that he was both fully human and divine. In his humanity, he had to experience suffering to become a perfect sacrifice in our place. John Calvin wrote, “Certainly those who imagine that the Son of God was exempt from human passions do not truly and sincerely acknowledge him to be a man.” He also cautioned, “if we are ashamed that Christ should experience fear and sorrow, our redemption will perish and be lost.” The fact that Jesus felt such intense emotions should encourage us in our own sorrows for we have a Savior who understands our pain—so much so, he was willing to bear the weight of sin to set us free.

Friends, we are not alone. We have a Savior who has gone before us. We have a Savior who knows and understands and cares for all our sorrows. The psalmist wrote that God keeps a count of all our tears; he stores them in a bottle; they are recorded in his book (Ps. 56:8).

Our sorrows matter to God.

What then are we to do with our sorrows? We do what Jesus did: we bring them to God in prayer. We lament. We cry out to the God who hears us. “In my distress I called upon the LORD; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears” (Ps. 18:6). And he hears us because of Jesus Christ. Through faith in the Son’s work on our behalf, we are brought into the family of God. He are adopted as his children; we belong to him. This means we have full rights and free access to the Father; there are no barriers that keep us from him. “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 4:16).

It’s true: real life is nothing like it is in the movies; it’s harder. We can’t walk out when we don’t like a particular scene. We can’t push pause until we are ready to engage. But what’s far better is having a perfect Savior who has gone before us. A Savior who knows our cares. A Savior who has born our sorrows. Let us cry out to the One who hears and cares for all our sorrows.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash