At the office, the big boss sponsors a twice-yearly book club in which we read current business/leadership books and then discuss lessons for us all. I’m in the middle of reading the current assignment, which appears to be a book aligned with the current fad of Silicon Valley–“fail fast”–and urges us to come to terms with our failures so we can move on to better things.
There’s a lot of pop-psych in it so far, but one thing struck me about the first set of advice. The author says that when we fail, we feel lots of difficult emotions–fear, shame, anger, resentment–but in our culture, it’s not widely acceptable to address those emotions. We’re taught as youngsters to downplay our feelings–shake it off, get back in the game–and her point in the book is that we can’t experience “wholeheartedness” until we at least acknowledge what’s going on in our emotional lives.
That phrase, “wholeheartedness,” captured me. In large measure that’s been the story of my own spiritual quest for the last couple decades. Intellectually I’ve always grasped Christianity; I can read all about the early church and the various schisms and heresies and I can grasp what it all means. But it’s been a slow lesson over the ages to learn that until I give my heart to Christ, I can understand what it means, but I’ll never understand What It All Means.
Proverbs 23:26 says, “O my son, give me your heart, may your eyes take delight in following my ways.” And in Matthew 22:37, Jesus answers the Pharisee who asked about the greatest commandment by quoting Deuteronomy 6:5: “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.” It’s taken me the better part of a lifetime to learn, God’s not after my logical assent to his philosophical argument. He’s after my heart, and as long as I guard that and downplay, deny, minimize what he’s trying to do in my heart, I’ll never experience wholeheartedness. Indeed, I’ll never really experience God.
And so one of the ways I’m trying to grow towards God this Lenten season is by understanding more of what it means to be wholehearted. Fill me afresh, Lord Jesus, fill my heart and let there be nothing but you there. Take all my fear, my shame, my anger, my resentment, and come, live in my heart and fill it with your grace instead. Not just at Lent, but in every day!