A frequently heard advertisement on Chicago radio stations is for Heart Check America. The ad is a testimony: "I am a businessman in my mid forties. I eat well and exercise five times a week. I've never had any serious medical problems. But my wife begged me to have a heart check. The test is quick and painless. She said, 'What have you got to lose?' So I went. And are we glad I did. The doctors discovered major blockage in three arteries and I was scheduled for treatment immediately. Heart Check America saved my life. You may think everything is fine. So did I. Do yourself a favor. Schedule your test today." What if there was a procedure that could evaluate the condition of your spiritual heart, your heart for ministry? At the end of an intense season of ministry, I'm limping a little. When friends have asked how I'm doing, I've replied, "Well, my heart isn't working quite right." We occasionally use that phrase around Willow Creek. So I've given some thought to five key indicators that the heart and soul are healthy. Rate yourself high, medium, or low in each category.
Can you feel deep emotion?
A healthy heart feels emotions deeply. It can be touched by joy, pain, anger, gratitude, and love.
Last February, when my heart was working better, I had such an experience. My family and I were at Disney World. We were watching a fabulous outdoor version of The Lion King. At one point, singers, dancers, and live animals—elephants and camels and tigers—paraded by to the beautiful music of that show. Then each performer invited a lucky child to join in the parade. One performer went to a young woman in a wheelchair. She was in her twenties, I guessed, and appeared to have cerebral palsy. The performer checked with her parents for permission to push her wheelchair along in the magnificent parade. They readily agreed. I don't know who was more radiant, the young woman or the loving parents who beamed with joy. I wondered about their journey together and the sacrifices they had made. As I watched this young woman enjoying the time of her life, tears streamed down my face. My daughters, ages 10 and 7, said, "Daddy, Mommy's crying. What's wrong with Mommy?" I looked over to my husband, and his eyes had tears in them, too. Later I was grateful that I could see that wonderful drama and truly feel it. The opposite of this is a heart that is numb. The prophet Elijah was in that kind of place when he sat down by the broom tree. He prayed, "I have had enough, Lord." And he lay down and fell asleep. This past Easter we prepared an original musical, "Jairus." There were 11 performances, and believers in our congregation invited scores of their seeking friends. The musical exceeded our expectations, but the process was hard on many of us. Every night I would see the place fill up. My daughter was in the cast, and I would watch her have the time of her life. The show had many incredible moments. But I had trouble feeling it deeply. My heart was numb. How is your capacity to feel deep emotion these days? High, medium, or low?
Are you mindful of moments?
The older I get, the more I understand that our lives are a series of moments. I love these words of Frederick Buechner: "Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness … because in the last analysis, all moments are key moments and life itself is grace." The leading cause of regret is failure to seize the day. So many of us miss out on the wonder and potential of simple, everyday moments. This is especially true in relationships. When our hearts are working right, we look into one another's eyes. We don't find ourselves in such destructive hurry that we are unable to be fully present. We cultivate the ability to truly listen to our family and friends and people we minister to. A great test for me is how present I am for my two girls. When my heart and soul are healthy, I can give them the gift of genuine attention. In her book Surrendering to Motherhood, Iris Krasnow describes it this way: "It's about Being Where You Are When You Are and Being There as Much as Possible. It's about crouching on the floor and getting delirious over the praying mantis your son just caught instead of perusing a fax while he is yelling for your attention and you distractedly say over your shoulder: 'O Honey, isn't that a pretty bug.' It's about being attuned enough to notice when your kid's eyes shine so you can make your eyes shine back." Unhealthy hearts don't produce eyes that shine. Too often, we end up "skimming" in our key relationships. We skim along the surface, offering the bare minimum to a spouse, close friend, or child. Right now, can you be "all there when you are there?" or are you skimming? How mindful of moments have you been in recent days? High, medium, or low?
Do you enjoy spontaneity?
"Are we having fun yet?" was the common question on our ministry team before the Easter musical. The not-so-disguised implication was "No, we aren't." I don't need to tell you that ministry can be overwhelming. There is no end to people's needs, and there are eternal consequences behind what we do. As a result, we can easily become worn out and much too serious. A healthy heart has the capacity to laugh, to welcome the unexpected, the out-of-the-ordinary. A really healthy heart initiates spontaneous fun moments, spreading joy to others. Jesus described the kingdom life as one of joy and abundance, not as a burden that weighs us down. We are in bad shape when we cannot laugh from the gut, play like a child, and simply let go. So how's the fun factor for you these days? High, medium, low?
Are you open to the lost and hurting?
When Jesus saw crowds who needed so much from him, he had compassion on them. In John 11, we see how grieved Jesus was by the death of his good friend Lazarus. When he saw Mary and the others weeping, Jesus was "deeply moved in spirit and troubled." And when he saw the tomb, Jesus wept. A healthy heart can still weep for those who do not yet know God's love. A healthy heart can be empathetic and gracious to those who are suffering. But when our hearts aren't working right, we begin viewing precious human beings as another problem to be handled. A few weeks ago I came to our mid-week service exhausted. I had over-scheduled myself. Afterward my agenda was to meet briefly with our program team and then get home as soon as possible. But as I was trying to move toward the exit, a couple I do not know asked for some moments of my time. They were looking for some pastoral input. The situation they described in their family was one of the most difficult I've ever been confronted with. There was no other pastor around right then. I couldn't find an elder nearby, and I sensed the Holy Spirit saying, "Take a deep breath. Together we will care for these folks." I have never felt so under-equipped—and yet as God always does, he gave me strength and wisdom. Now I want to be quick to say that no one's heart door should always be open. I believe in boundaries and limits and rest and vacations. But what I'm describing is the very real possibility that over time, our hearts, which once burned with passion for the seekers and the poor and the suffering, can become hardened and impenetrable. This is tragic for any Christ follower. St. John of the Cross said that "at the evening of our day we shall be judged by our loving." Have you shed a tear lately for someone who is outside God's family? Have you been deeply moved by someone's loss? Or is your heart becoming slowly hardened, almost without you realizing it? How loving is your heart these days? High, medium, or low?
Are you hearing God's promptings?
When the soul is strong and we operate from a quiet center, God doesn't need a megaphone to get our attention. We can hear his whispers. Proverbs 3:32 says that God is "intimate with the upright"; he takes them "into his confidence." The question is not whether God is speaking to us. I believe he is sending us messages all the time—through creation, through his Word, through people and events. Quoting Buechner again: "There is no chance thing through which God cannot speak—even the walk from the house to the garage that you have walked ten thousand times before, even the moments when you cannot believe there is a God who speaks at all anywhere. … to live without listening at all is to live deaf to the fullness of the music. Sometimes we avoid listening for fear of what we may hear, sometimes for fear that we may hear nothing at all but the empty rattle of our own feet on the pavement. … 'Be not afraid, for lo, I am with you always . …' Listen for Him." There is one thing I hope I never get over, as long as I live: the truth that the awesome Creator of the universe is choosing to speak to me—not just once in a blue moon, but most of the time! Sometimes he wants to encourage me and comfort me. Sometimes he needs to convict me about a sin I've committed and to guide me to confess. Sometimes he wants to give me an idea. Sometimes he just wants me to remember I am treasured. I shudder to think how many messages I have missed. How mindful is your heart these days of the presence of God? Are you quick to listen? Are you attentive to his promptings? How is your hearing? High, medium, or low?
Interpreting the results
Take a look at all five ratings. How is your heart? Remember, God is in the business of transforming hearts. He promises: "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" (Ezek. 36:26). Why is it so difficult to sustain hearts of flesh, to be increasingly healthy on the inside? John Ortberg, one of our teaching pastors, talked to our staff about the tension of both abiding and abounding. We face this tension our whole lives—to be both vitally connected to God and fruitful in the Lord's work. As I face this tension in my own life, I need to ask five questions.1. Who is responsible for my getting this right? My church? Another pastor, elders, or deacons? My spouse? No, I am responsible. It is so tempting to blame someone else for my schedule, my job description, even my hardened heart. Elizabeth O'Connor describes our responsibility this way: "Each of us is the artist of his own life. The materials we are given to work with, the conditions we work under and what happens to us, are part of the drama of what we shall do with our lives."2. Do I have systems in place to protect my heart? We all know what our physical hearts require to stay healthy—exercise, no smoking, less stress, and fewer Twinkies. And we are also aware that for the spiritual heart to be healthy, a commitment to certain systems and disciplines is necessary. I do not bring up the "D" word (discipline) to add another should to your list. Some of us grew up with a distorted idea that our times of Bible reading, prayer, or fasting are efforts to score points with God so he'll bless us. Annie Dillard, in Teaching a Stone to Talk, cuts to the heart of it: "Experience has taught the race that if knowledge of God is the end, then these habits of life are not the means but the condition in which the means operates. You do not have to do these things; not at all. God does not, I regret to report, give a hoot. You do not have to do these things—unless you want to know God. They work on you, not on him. "You do not have to sit outside in the dark. If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary. But the stars neither require nor demand it." Being the artist of our lives includes figuring out what is necessary for us to have healthy hearts. For most of us that will include some solitude—we need to schedule it. It will include washing ourselves in Scripture and regular times of prayer. For me, a big need is getting out in creation where I most sense God's presence. I wrote most of this article in a park, listening to God in the wind, as a squirrel scampered by, and the sun warmed my face.3. Have I ruthlessly clarified my role and contribution in terms of my gifts and passion? Some of the burnout I've observed can be traced to repeatedly giving out what we do not possess—in other words, not functioning in the central zone of our gifts. All our lives we should be seeking to clarify what we were born to do, who we are meant to be. But when we serve in churches, the needs are enormous and endless. And we keep responding to those needs, even if the role does not match our gifts. Day after day we put on clothes that do not fit. There are times in the life of a church when lots of folks need to be willing to do whatever is necessary. In our church's early years, we all did everything—cleaned the movie theater, set up equipment, ushered, served on stage, led small groups, and took it all down. We knew all about spiritual gifts and passions. We tried to help people soar in their gift areas, but we couldn't all specialize. In 25 years, I have gone through several transitions in my ministry role. This past year has brought significant change. I am doing less day-to-day leadership of our department and instead seeking to make an overall creative contribution. I am also using my teaching gifts more frequently. These changes have been both exhilarating and terrifying. In the middle of one of my scarier weeks, a good friend gave me a little book, Let Your Life Speak by Parker Palmer. This Quaker teacher urges us to listen to our lives that we may understand what they are intended to be about. The word vocation comes from the Latin for "voice." Palmer says, "Vocation does not mean a goal that I pursue. It means a calling that I hear. Before I tell my life what I want to do with it, I must listen to my life telling me who I am." No one else can do this listening for us. Through experimentation and usually some hardship, we will learn as we go. From Palmer's book I learned I must pay as much attention to my limits as to my strengths. I am a better creator than manager. I can do that stuff, but it wears me out. I also have set time limits by choice. I have chosen to work part-time while my children are young. So, after all these years of discovery and by God's grace, my role now is essentially about two things—contributing to the design of services and teaching. I do not tell you this to discourage you if you are far removed from what you love to do. This has been a long, gradual process of dying to some ego needs, letting go, and trusting. Change has often been scary, but I am seeing the benefits already of this weaning. And I urge you to be on a similar journey. Please do not resign yourself to forever denying your true self. Christians often have a hard time feeling okay about this kind of self-examination and self-care. It seems, well, selfish. After all, there are churches to build, services to prepare, people to reach! Just buck up and get the job done, we tell ourselves. All this journaling and analysis is wasting time. Well, if you lean in that direction, I want to challenge your thinking. I truly believe that if you continually clarify what brings you the most joy, what you are born to do, you will have so much more to offer the kingdom!4. Am I doing the inner work necessary to separate my self-worth and identity from what I do? All of us have a deep need for a sense of place. By that I mean we long to feel needed, significant—like we really matter. And depending on the messages we received in our early years, many of us tie our worth directly to what we do. Many of us are actually quite insecure deep down. This is evident when: we are overly concerned with a title or how we are described, we are consumed with approval from certain people, we have trouble celebrating the excellence of someone else who shares our gifts, we go away on vacation and feel a little less important if everything went well in our absence. There are dark places inside each of us that we must gradually bring into the light. We need to have the courage to look into the deep down stuff. Jealousy, insecurity, pride, selfishness, anger, greed—these we need to face and wrestle down and confess. The apostle Paul began his letters by simply writing: "Paul, a servant (or apostle) of Christ Jesus." That's all he felt was necessary to describe himself. His foundational identity was as a servant of Jesus Christ, a child of God. Do you see yourself as a precious child of God, who does not have to earn anything, or prove anything, or perform anything? We will become truly free in Christ when we settle where our worth comes from.5. Am I living in authentic community? That kind of inner work is done both in solitude and in the context of genuine community. When our hearts are working right, they are connected to a few people who really love us and really know us, even the yucky stuff. When I was going through all this change the past year, I hit a real rough spot in March. I started to experience a great deal of insecurity and self-doubt. As I cycled lower and lower, I imagined things about my workplace and my co-workers that were not true. The Evil One was hard at work, trying to destroy my confidence and my peace. I was distressed, but for a few days I kept it to myself. I was afraid to disclose the ugliness of my thoughts, and I thought I had to figure everything out before going to my friends. Well, I'd make a terrible poker player. Some of my friends saw my eyes and immediately knew I was hurting. They prodded and soon it all gushed out. They helped me see the lies I was starting to believe. They reminded me of my worth, my place, and their unconditional love for me. I should not have thought hiding was the answer. My heart could only find healing in community. When we are too busy to live in genuine community with a few friends, we are too busy. Our hearts won't work right if there's no one who knows how we are really doing.
Big God, little me
I am learning that as we work to build the church, we can too easily lose sight of what God wants to do in us. When we worship, we often focus on the majesty, power, and magnitude of God—we celebrate how big he is, how strong he is, how awesome he is. But sometimes it is easier to believe that God is concerned with big things than it is to trust his concern for my everyday life. Does our glorious Creator really spend much time and energy focusing on the condition of my little life, my struggles, my fears, my victories? Psalm 139 says God is thinking about every one of us all the time. If we were to add up his thoughts of each of us, they would outnumber the grains of sand. As big as he is, our God is also intensely personal. He is intimately concerned with the condition of our hearts.
Nancy Beach is a teaching pastor and director of programming at Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington, Illinois.
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