Here I am again, confessing my struggles to the masses. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of my struggles represent some of yours as well. At any rate, I want to share a bit of how my heart responded to difficult circumstances, over the past couple years, in some unhealthy ways—and how I have emerged on the other side of that internal struggle.
When COVID happened, it caught me off guard, but I thought—along with a lot of other people—it’s just temporary. But one change after another in my previously peaceful and well-ordered world told me that it wasn’t nearly as “temporary” as I had thought.
If you know me well, you know that I’m not a political thinker. Typically, I avoid politics. But I found it hard to ignore the political quagmire at the heart of this pandemic. And it’s not that I needed to ignore it—it’s just that I needed to guard my heart; and I neglected to do that.
Gradually, as I watched others’ responses to rules, data, and the like, I became offended—and I wasn’t even just offended at the virus or at leaders in government. In fact, I find it difficult to hold onto bitter feelings toward political leaders because I see them as far removed from my daily routines and concerns—even if, in fact, they may be responsible for circumstances I find myself in. No, I became offended at people—people I knew. Not necessarily individuals—though I grouped some of them into the mix of “people” I often referred to: Why don’t people get it? Can’t people see that this is largely spiritual? How can people trust the government? People.
Because so many people I cared about seemed to hold a completely different perspective, an opposing spirit rose up within me, even though I was reminded from time to time that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood…” It didn’t make sense to me that people believed what they did, but instead of taking these things consistently to the Lord…I took them personally.
I have always been a person of the heart—but when my heart felt wounded, I focused on the political, philosophical, and perspective-driven differences between myself and others; and those differences began to create a gulf. I didn’t want to go to church. I didn’t smile much—at least not genuinely. I kept going through depressive cycles. I pulled away from people I care about. It wasn’t like me at all. And it hurt me in the long run. I was so busy agonizing over how the opinions of others could actually be their opinions that I lost sight of my sensitivity—and some of my love for people grew cold.
Even after the Holy Spirit had convicted me about the ugliness I was allowing to creep into my heart, I would think I’d let go of these feelings, only to grab them back again. I realize now that my identity was out of whack; I wasn’t seeing myself the way God saw me, so I wasn’t able to see others that way either.
Now it hurts my heart to realize how low I actually sank. While believing I was on “the right ship,” I was actually capsizing myself! 2 Timothy 2:24 says, “And the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful.” It wasn’t that I spent much time actually quarreling with people (maybe a couple lively discussions on Facebook); it was the quarrel going on within me. I felt powerless—and I think I blamed others for that. The enemy knew I would internalize and therefore not find healthy outlets for how I was feeling. He knew that as long as I didn’t, he could keep pouring salt in the wound. And sadly, I let him. My defenses were down. My spirits were low. My heart was compromised.
A dinner meeting with our pastors helped me feel better in some ways. But there was still so much I saw as “unresolved” within the church as it related to mandates, government control, and the like. Shouldn’t we be taking a stand? But in my heart, I was crying out to have purpose and value again; I had lost sight of the purpose and value God had already placed upon me. Fortunately though, the door to my heart had begun to crack open. The love shown by these pastors spoke to me. And over time, I let that love sink in…a little deeper…and a little deeper.
In John 13:34, Jesus says, “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” Notice how he says “love one another” twice? It’s like he knew it would be difficult at times. If we look at how Jesus loved people, we see that it was with selflessness and servanthood. True, those who sought to destroy him and stood against God’s eternal plan, didn’t always receive the most loving words. But those of the body of believers received Jesus’ utmost care and attention.
People have choices. Even if we believe they may be misguided or heading down a wrong path, we are called to love. And if we are walking in that love, it will be something we seek to pour out—not something we hold back. That should’ve been evident to me much sooner. But in all my self-perceived vindication, I was neglecting the condition of my heart. Proverbs 4:23 instructs us, “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.”
The door to my heart had an opportunity to swing open again, following some situations toward the end of 2021, in which I had taken a poor approach in response to “offenses”—with some people that I love very much. It was as if the Lord said to me, “See what you are capable of? You are not trusting in me with all your heart; it appears you are trusting in yourself. And your path is getting crooked.” Proverbs 3:5-6, one of my all-time favorites, says this: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”
It doesn’t mean we can’t know things or have an understanding someone else doesn’t have. But in all of that—how we manifest our knowledge and understanding—we must be Spirit-led. It was devastating to see how much I was not. And how I had hurt others. And through that ordeal I got in touch again with the sensitive heart God gave me. I began praying for Him to soften me—and to help me to see people the way He sees them (something I’d always been good at before).
I have just begun going back to church wholeheartedly. It was just this past Sunday during the service that the Lord said to me, “Do you see the face behind the mask?” I knew immediately what He meant; it wasn’t a literal question—it was a spiritual one. I had been neglecting to see the forest for the trees, so to speak. He was asking if I would focus on issues of disagreement or if I could begin to see people again the way He does—no matter their perspectives on any of it. That I would see each person as His, worthy of love and honor, uniquely valuable and precious.
If I hold myself at a distance, how can I truly love people? And if I don’t it raises the question, do I truly love God? I want to be someone who is known by my love—in all situations. I don’t want to be at odds with other believers. I have come to realize that my “hard feelings” had actually put me at odds with myself. There was so much I lost through harboring broad-spectrum grievances. And I hadn’t even realized I had lost it until I caught a glimpse of myself (spiritually speaking)—and I didn’t like what I saw. Recently, I was able to let go of it. And guess what I noticed. I started to like my face in the mirror again; I started to feel like myself again; I started to experience the wisdom and insight of the Lord again.
Moving forward, this is my prayer—and maybe it needs to be yours too:
“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10, KJV).
Sometimes the heart needs to be vigorously cleaned out; and if we ask God to do it, He is faithful to—He is even gentle about it. Like an expert surgeon, the Father knows the procedure will be painful—but He wants you healed. And without a healthy spiritual heart, we cannot love well or have the right perspective. We will think our way is right (our actions and behavior, whether externally or internally)—but it actually leads to destruction (see Prov. 14:12).
Each of us can choose to support or protest masks; to write to our congressional representatives in agreement or disagreement with mandates; to get the vaccine or not to get the vaccine. I don’t have to agree with you, and you don’t have to agree with me. But…if I let disagreement permeate my heart, it becomes a bitter root—and a killer of joy. In Psalm 51:12, David pleads, “Restore to me the joy of Your salvation, And uphold me by Your generous Spirit.” God has begun to do this in me. I am being touched in my spirit again. I am more aware of His presence. I am seeing with my spiritual eyes again!
Recently I watched a movie called Room. It’s about a young woman who was kidnapped as a teen and made to live in a tiny locked room, with no windows, for seven years. There is much more to the story of the movie. But I use it as an analogy of what had happened to my heart. It had been taken captive and locked up. The difference between me and the girl in the movie…I actually had the keys the whole time. I just needed to be a bit “shook up” so I would realize that my way of escape—my freedom—was before me.
I am now more convinced than ever that love is the way to go.
“Let everything you do be done in love [motivated and inspired by God’s love for us]” (I Corinthians 16:14, Amp.).
I hope I never lose sight of that again.
