When the heart needs a new beginning

When Mika and I took a leave of absence from church leadership in the fall of 2019, I thought I was taking a break. I was actually meeting my own heart.

I had loved God and served God for years, and I had also learned how to hide. Every close relationship felt like a test: How quickly could I be rejected, betrayed, or left? So, I put on a capable face and kept moving.

Bonner County knows how to keep moving. We get the kids back to school, stack the wood, cover a shift, and wave from a truck while the larch along Highway 200 starts to turn. We can do the same thing with our souls. The outside stays tidy while something inside grows hard.

That is why authentic faith cannot be a wish about who we hope we are. It has to start with what is actually in us, and with the God who is not afraid of it.

Long ago the prophet Ezekiel spoke to people who knew hard ground. They had been carried far from home. Their worship had grown thin, and many of them had learned to survive without expecting God to come close again. In that exile He did not ask them to polish a heart of stone. He promised to replace it.

“I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you,” God said. “And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” He even promised His own Spirit, not as a reward for getting cleaned up first, but as the power that makes a new way of living possible.

A heart of stone is not always loud. Mine looked like ministry, competence, and a smile. Underneath it was fear that the real me would be too much. Counseling that year, week after week, was not a detour from faith. It was faith finally telling the truth. My greatest challenge was not a lack of knowledge about Jesus. It was a lack of honesty about my own heart.

God’s promise still works that way. He does not demand that we try harder until we feel soft. He comes close. He puts His Spirit within a person. The love of Jesus is what loosens what we cannot pry open ourselves. That love is not a slogan for a hard season. It is how a hidden life becomes a human one again.

Around Sandpoint, and down the highway through Ponderay and Clark Fork, plenty of us are tired of performing. Families carry old stories. Schools and workplaces run on grit. These shorter fall evenings, after the summer rush leaves the bridge, can make a person feel both busy and alone. Churches of every kind in this county are trying to be faithful. We do not need another mask. We need the courage to let God see what we have left out of His sight.

If your heart has grown hard in a quiet way, you do not have to fix it before you ask for help. Pray a simple prayer today. Ask Him for a heart of flesh where stone has settled. Then strengthen one person who looks fine and may not be. God still hears the desire of the afflicted. He still makes new what we cannot repair alone.

Chris Bassett serves as senior pastor at Harvest Valley Worship Center just north of Sandpoint on Highway 95. Learn more at hvwc.com.