Boxed Hearts

I was journaling the other day, and as I wrote, I felt that God wanted to answer me in my writing. So, I began a conversation, maybe with God, or perhaps just with my own thoughts portraying my idea of Him on the page. Whatever the case, this was the interaction we shared, beginning with the following verse:

God (Micah 6:3): "What have I done to you? How have I burdened you?"

Me: Rules. All of these weighty thoughts of what should I do, what's the right thing to do, is this right or wrong, GUILT.

God: None of that is me. Where is your heart, Daniel?

Me: Where? Uh...is it not with you?

God: You have it right now.

Me: Why do I have it? We both know I can't take good care of it. I don't think. I mean, we see how that's worked out so far. . . . How do you care for a heart?

God: Let it beat.

Me: I'm not?

God: Are you?

Me: I'm not. I'm squeezing. Clutching. Surpressing.

God: Hearts burst that way. Blood must flow freely.

Me: I plug up my veins, don't I? I stuff my heart in a too-small box. How many times have I dropped it, now? What do I do?

God: Give it to me. Let me unwrap it.

Me: Like a Christmas present.

God: A gift. Gifts aren't meant to stay in boxes. They're to be opened and enjoyed.

Me: Take my heart, Jesus! Take care of it! I can't love hearts right. I only know how to box them up.

God: Boxed hearts strain to beat. Free hearts dance to the beat. Free your heart. Boxes are so unnatural, anyway. I don't make boxes.

Me: So what should hearts go in?

God: My hands.

Me: Care for my heart, Jesus, and teach me how to care for it, too.

God: Let it beat.

Me: How?

God: Stop hoarding it away. Freely you have received. Freely give. Nothing held back. Start here, with me. Give it all to me. Otherwise, you can't give. A heart works only in wholeness. Try and cut off parts, you bleed everywhere, and it is drained of life. Wholly give it to me, and I am free to hold it freely so that, in my hands, it can beat freely, give freely, and love freely. You will not know your heart, nor will you know anyone else's, nor will they know yours, nor will you know mine, until you uncover your heart. Give it up.

Me: How do I know you won't break it?

God: I break nothing that I do not mend whole. Some things cannot be whole unless they are first broken more. I am not about destroying your heart--not your dreams, your desires, your hopes, or your longings. I am about redeeming and fulfilling. Wholeness is what you want. There is no wholeness apart from me. Come to me.

Me: But...

God: Trust me. I love you.