Let It Beat

//God knows your heart//

What a statement that is. God KNOWS my heart. The doubts, the fears, the panics, the distrust, the lust, the lies. The things I try so hard to hide from people. He knows it. And that word “knows” isn’t just a word meaning “notices” or “is aware of”. God is more than aware of my heart—He sees it in a way that others cannot. He knows my heart fully and intimately. In the mess of my brokenness, He sees the hopes, the dreams, the deepest desires that I’m often afraid of. But He’s not scared of anything my heart contains. He’s not embarrassed or ashamed by it, either. He just wants it. He wants to hold it and make it beat just like He created it to—without fear or apprehension, without doubt of His love. He created my heart to beat boldly; yet I feel as thought I’ve lost that strength in order to “protect” my heart. Yet, no matter what I try to do in that protection, I feel pulled; the pulling is a disconnect telling me that something is off. I can think of two sources of this pulling. One, the enemy of my soul is trying to pull me with lies that I’m just not good enough. Two, Dad is showing me that He has so much more if I just let my heart be the bold creation that He intended it to be. But it’s so scary—at least it is for me.

I think of the last time I went to a ropes course. I was wearing a harness and I was all strapped in, but being so high up and having people being able to see me was terrifying. I could see the ground. Good ol’ terra firma, right? A sign of safety. However, being able to see the ground was the scary part. I could see safety, but I wasn’t where “safety” was. With Dad, those elements of fear manifest in the same way. I want to be bolder, knowing that He will support me, carry me tighter and more secure than a harness.

But…what if I fall? What if I fail? I see safety. I play it safe, allowing myself to be content with not achieving or going for what I strongly feel I was meant for. Telling myself that I’m waiting for God’s timing, when I’m really just looking for an excuse to not try. Hearing God tell me—either directly or through other people—to take a step; but telling myself that I’m imagining it or over analyzing what it actually means.

I see the ground. I see the anxiety that I often just accept, telling myself that it helps to ground me, to keep me humble. Lying to myself as if Dad’s best for me was to really let my fear inhibit my potential. I can’t let those fears ground me when God meant for me to fly.

That last time at the ropes course, I stayed up there for maybe 30 minutes—there were various obstacles and I spent most of that time watching other people conquer each one without or despite fear. I even helped a little girl conquer her fear. But for me, after those 30 minutes, I got down. At this place, once you got down, you couldn’t go back up, so I held on to the possibility that I could make it, but I tapped out. I went with friends and I felt like I was holding them back from having fun, so I got down and walked around, trying to keep myself entertained and preoccupied.

When we finally left, I couldn’t help thinking/regretting what happened. “God’s supposed to be able to help me, right? He’s supposed to help me face fears. I should have called on Him. Would it have helped? Would I believe that He would?”

A feeling that it sometimes worse than a missed opportunity, is an opportunity taken, but not to its full potential. A job barely done. A heart afraid to beat to its potential.

I often think back to what I could have done differently. No matter how often I think about it, one thing keeps popping up in my mind: I shouldn’t have looked down so much. I would look forward to where I would step next, but then I would look all the way down. I look at the next step I could take and then all the way down at how everything could fail and fall apart.

It’s that doubt that immobilizes you. It’s that fear that blinds you to the steps and leaves you only looking at the drop…making you believe that what you want—your desires—isn’t for you. That you just can’t handle it. You’re not good enough. You might as well SIT.DOWN.

But God knows your heart.

He knows mine.

I know that I won’t get all the things that I want (and thank God for that because that would be a MESS). I know that some desires may not be fulfilled in the way that I thought they would be. But I know that God knows my heart. The deepest and most hidden parts of it, where I thought no one would find or notice. The most outlandish parts of it that no one could miss. He knows me so intently and thoroughly. He sees the fear. He knows where I’m looking and it’s not at Him. It’s at my fears. My failures. My failures to come. He knows I’m stubborn. He knows I’m prideful. But beyond that, He knows who He’s created me to be. And He’s asking me to look at Him instead of looking down. He’ll direct my paths; He’ll carry me, tighter and more secure than a harness. Better than a safety net. He’s got me. I just need to look up and let my heart beat boldly.

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