Beyond My Wants

I Can Take Care of Myself

It was late. And dark. I was hungry and tired. I wanted only to eat and climb into my bed.

Why do high school track meets end so late? Why is my son always in the last event? Doesn’t anyone realize it’s a school night?!

My silent complaints were interrupted by my husband announcing that he would walk me to my car after we walked our son to his.

I should have been grateful for a husband who cares about my safety, who wants to protect me. I should have smiled. I should have said “Thank you.”

Instead, a deeply woven thread of self-reliance combined with irrational frustration over this six-minute delay fueled my curt response: “It’s okay. I can see my car from here. I’ll just walk to it by myself.”

The exchange that followed was anything but loving.


The heart, at its core
I read the story a third time before setting down my devotional and closing my eyes. I knew God was speaking to me. Inviting me to sit with these words a bit longer before rushing off. Inviting me to see how this story–though it seemed entirely unrelated–actually spoke into my own.

The story described a man who had lived a hard life: One described as chaotic and dangerous. One that involved a broken family and gang involvement. One that included prison time and homelessness. Considering the dramatic way these details opposed those of my own life, it’s a wonder I connected with it at all.

But the Holy Spirit was reading with me.

The man’s demeanor, described as reserved and cold, was familiar. I’ve encountered it in patients with similar experiences. Keeping others at a distance is a method of self-protection. I closed my eyes and pictured this man. His head down, minimizing eye contact. His body posture tense, avoiding physical contact. His answers guarded, offering only the bare minimum. I closed my eyes and pictured this man as he did all he could to protect himself.

And then? Then God showed me his heart.

A heart that–at its core–ached to be accepted. To be wanted. To be held and loved. A heart that longed for the very opposite of what his words and actions so boldly declared.

Shepherd me, O God,

beyond my wants, beyond my fears,

from death into life. 

~Marty Haugen

Sitting quietly in prayer, I closed my eyes and allowed the memory to unfold. I had asked the Lord to help me understand my irrational frustration after the track meet. Hunger and fatigue aside, I knew my response was bigger than the situation called for, but I didn’t know where it had come from. God was answering my prayer, slowly bringing to mind memories from my past–memories from the times I’d wanted nothing other than to be taken care of. But I hadn’t been. As a result, I slowly and subconsciously concluded that I must take care of myself, and without realizing it, this belief had shaped how I live my life.

But in showing me these memories, God also showed me my heart.

A heart that–at its core–aches to be taken care of. A heart longing for the very opposite of what my own words and actions so boldly declare.


An unspoken prayer
I don’t recall the exact words or even the specific episode, but I do remember pausing to replay the words from the Poco a Poco podcast that had captured my attention. Words reminding me that God knows each and every desire of my heart. He knows them because He placed them there. 

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

Psalm 139:13 (NIV)

And He placed them there because He intends to fill them.

Find your delight in the LORD

who will give you your heart’s desire.

Psalm 37:4 (NABRE)

This truth–one I knew in my head but struggled to believe–chased me for weeks. It collided with all I’d discovered about my desire to be cared for and gave birth to a silent prayer that took residence in my heart: 

“God, help me see the deepest desires of my heart. The ones placed there by You. The ones that lay behind all I think I want. And help me trust that You have a plan to fill them.”


God's very real answer
I walked into the empty hospital chapel, took a seat before the tabernacle, and closed my eyes. A few moments later I heard the chapel door open and footsteps approach. Looking up, I saw a man I did not recognize standing beside me. Pyx in his hand, he was preparing to open the tabernacle. Realizing he’d just brought the Eucharist to a hospitalized patient, I nodded  and smiled. I expected him to replace the pyx and leave, but to my surprise he turned, looked directly into my eyes, and spoke: "Would you like to receive our Lord in the Holy Eucharist?” 

I paused briefly, processing his unexpected question before answering. But as I responded, “Yes,” a sense of peace slowly filled me, and I knew: 

The deepest longing of my heart, the one that lies beneath and behind all that I think I want … is Jesus. And if I just bring that desire to Him, He will fill it. 

Praying, as always, that God breathes life into these words. 

___________________________

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