|Written by Michael Fones|
|Saturday, 27 October 2007 05:11|
At the end of the Cursillo weekend I attended a couple of weeks ago, there was a prayer service in which the candidates are invited to commit themselves to apostolic works. It ends with a simple question each individual asks of God,
"Lord, what do you want from me?"
As we came to that question, I was prepared to examine the activities I'm involved in, and reflect on how I might be more Christlike in them, or how I might be more open about my Christian faith. I was hoping I might have some direction as to what new project I might be involved in, or what to do next in the Institute.
Instead, no sooner had the question been posed, when I had a response,
"Give me your heart."
It was one of those moments that I've had once in a while, in which the words that come to mind seem to come from deep within me yet somehow not from me. It's hard to explain. In these cases, the words have always been something of a surprise, like these words. Yet, of course, they made all the sense in the world.
And at the same time, they cut like a two-edged sword, because, of course, they imply that I have not given my heart completely to my Lord - and thus he's not entirely "Lord."
In fact my heart - my loves and desires - are very divided. I get wrapped up in the passing things of this world (like Duck football, for example!) and my heart rises and sinks with each win and loss. The same rising and sinking of emotions happens in relationships that we cling to because the other has become a means to our own happiness, rather than someone for whom we're laying down our life, or when we're trying to manipulate the emotions of another through pleasing, for example. The same churning of emotions happens when we've given our heart to work; each success merely momentarily staves off the ever-present fear of failure.
So why is it so hard to give my heart to one who loves me enough to suffer and die for me? Why am I so convinced that living my life my way will be better than Jesus' way? I will have to think and pray about these questions.
But in the meanwhile, it seems I have some ideas of where my heart is divided, and where there is need of true mortification - a "dying" to passing things. I am in need of detachment, not so that I can be free, but so that I can be attached to him "who loved me, and gave his life for me." (Gal 2:20)