“No, no! Jesus didn’t experience anxiety!” we might say. I think this is a reaction to quickly judging emotions as bad and untrustworthy. Consider Christ’s prayer in the garden, as he neared death. We read quite disturbing words from Luke: “And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground”.
I'm no etymologist, but words fascinate me. Kardia, in many of its uses, has captivated my attention for a long time. As a Bible student, kardia appears multiple times as the Greek word for heart.
Not the organ that pumps blood through your body. Kardia is the figurative core of your being. It is the seat and center of human life, emotion, volitional will. It is the "causative source of one's psychological life in its various aspects." All that to say, your heart is a huge deal and deserves attention and care!
There’s something in that phrase that explains itself. There is a feeling and a longing that wells up in our souls when we hear it. “The Heart of the Father”. Our hearts reach out for something that we either had as children and want more of, or missed out on and deeply long for, but never really put words to. “The Heart of the Father”.
That’s my dog. You know what he’s doing? He’s bringing glory to God. You know how I know? Because he’s doing what dogs do. He’s being completely dog-ish. Sometimes he does other things. He chases squirrels, he digs for voles (our yard is evidence of this), he barks at Steve, our neighbor, he eats, and well, other things. These are all things that dogs were designed to do. When he does what he was made to do, he brings glory to his Creator.
Even in our brokenness, we can learn to become the self God intended us to become; honest, genuine, passionate, transparent, vulnerable. And each of us has our own uniqueness that only we can express. Thomas Merton said that only you can love people the way you can love people. You are uniquely situated in the world to do what only you were made to do.
We have all seen the movie where the protagonist is a totally self-absorbed character—praised and rewarded by the adoring public for some remarkable talent or gift that has lost its meaning to him (think Tony Stark from Ironman). He or she has cabinets and closets full of awards, and the next one is simply tossed aside like an old candy wrapper. On the outside they have it all, but on the inside they’re thinking, “Is that all there is? I’ve gotten all the praise, wealth, and power that I have always sought and I still feel empty.”
