“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” Ezekiel 36:26
It was a particularly sad time in my life. My cousin had fought cancer so valiantly for so long, even enduring a bone-marrow transplant. For a few short years, he was cancer free.
Then came the sad news: It had returned in virulent ferocity, and it would prematurely end his life.
I let the phone that had delivered the news drop as my tears flowed uncontrollably.
My first prayer to God, out of my anger and despair, was selfish and accusatory:
"Why give me a heart of flesh if it breaks so easily?"
For the next hour, I remember nothing but sobs that slowly subsided and gave way to emptiness and gloom.
Then I heard a still, small voice.
"A heart of stone would break as easily, but I can heal a heart of flesh."
For years I held onto the joy of knowing God heals that yielding heart. And that, in itself, is a wonderful thought, a glorious thought, a perfect thought.
But God often expects a certain height of those who love Him. And as I thought recently about that promise of a healed heart, I realized it was still an incomplete thought. It was too much about me. There is a deeper meaning.
Those who do not love Him have broken hearts, too. And their anger and despair come from those broken stony hearts that are not healed. No wonder people behave so badly: They are angry, lost sheep without a shepherd, carrying around the burden of heavy, stony, broken hearts.
That should spur me on to proclaim Christ all the more and lead me into a greater understanding of His great love.
Just as God did not react to my petulant and angry accusations, I should similarly brush off the insults of those who do not believe. And I should work to love them into the Kingdom of the One who longs to heal all hearts.