I know it’s part of getting older, but when my husband was told to go to the ER because a clinical trial EKG had revealed an irregular heartbeat, I was startled almost into one of my own.
Of course, everything is just routine, until it isn’t. And when it isn’t, the detour we unexpectedly find ourselves on can be jarring and even a little scary. But Andrew’s AFib got me thinking about the struggles we all face in our spiritual lives, the matters of the heart that show us just how much we need a “spiritual cardiologist.”
The Scriptures are full of wisdom regarding the state of the human heart. The prophet Jeremiah diagnoses the problem and tells us that “the heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure” (Jer 17:9).
This is why the wisdom of ancient Israel cautions us: “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Prv 4:23). “See to it, brothers and sisters,” echoes the author of Hebrews in the New Testament, “that none of you has a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God” (Heb 3:12). But the admonition that looms large in our liturgies during Lent is particularly pointed. It is also the most helpful. “Oh, that today you would hear his voice: do not harden your hearts” (Ps 95:8).
The term “hardness of heart” makes most of us think about the intransigent Egyptian pharaoh who refused to let God’s people go. But the truth is that when it comes to stubbornness, most of us hold an advanced degree. The problem isn’t that God does not speak. It’s that even when we hear him, we don’t often heed him.
The most serious and universal heart disease we all suffer from is sin, but it is our predilection to self-will — our hardness of heart — that is the silent killer of our souls.
The Scriptures tell us that while this affliction may be hidden from us in our youth, we are accountable for our actions, nonetheless. “Rejoice, young man, while you are young, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth. Follow the inclination of your heart and the desire of your eyes, but know that for all these things God will bring you into judgment” (Eccl 11:9).
The remedy offered in the verse that follows is simple: “Banish anxiety from your mind, and put away pain from your body; for youth and the dawn of life are vanity” (Eccl 11:10). But as anyone who has tried to “banish anxiety” or “put away pain” can testify, it is nearly impossible to do so.
So, what gives? As usual, God does. Whenever we encounter an impossible task or an insurmountable challenge, the message is the same. God is offering us something more, something we cannot attain apart from him. David understood this. In his darkest and most sinful moments, David did not ask God to restore his heart or his youth. Instead, the repentant king requested much more: “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Ps 51:10).
Our hearts, as they are, will ultimately fail us. Our efforts are necessary but limited in their effectiveness. We can change our spiritual diets and exercise our souls, but we will still be subject to the spiritual equivalents of heart disease in all its forms. We will suffer calcification, the hardness of heart that keeps us from listening to God. We will wear ourselves out with arrhythmia, pursuing our own rhythms rather than beating in union with the will of God and the mind of the church. We will experience an interior sclerosis that blocks the flow of God’s Holy Spirit.
Every one of us needs the grace of new life in Christ, and the entirely new heart that goes with it. And that is precisely what God promised us: “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh” (Ez 36:26).
Lent is our opportunity to place ourselves under the care of the Divine Physician — to allow him to treat us as he sees fit — and to surrender our hearts into his loving hands.
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