Maker of My Heart
Jon Wurgler, our church music director, loves what he does. He sometimes forgets and asks us to pick up the beat of new songs that render us silent, due to the limited musical talent of our congregation. That’s okay; we all need to be stretched. A few weeks ago, he brought out a new chorus from the past for us to re-learn. Frankly, I doubt that I ever heard it before, but the words resonated in my mind. Part of it goes like this:
Jesus, you are, you are everything I’m not. Everything I want to be.
Jesus, you are, you are the Maker of My Heart.
Finish what you started in me.
Maker of My Heart … what an uplifting thought. It carries with it the hope that my past—cluttered and confined by mistakes and habits—will stop defining my future. It speaks of freedom. It hints at possibility and promise.
Interestingly, Job 35:10 may have been the inspiration for the writer of that chorus: “Where is God my Maker, who gives songs in the night …?”
In my previous posting, “My Protagonist and Me,” I began with this statement: “The protagonist in my novel has a problem of knowing—and owning—who she is.” She falters at the point of owning her truth. Admitting who she was and what she was not. As a result, it was a long time before she could even expect the change promised by the last line of Jon’s chorus: Finish what you started in me.
In my mid-twenties, I was little different than my Point of View (POV) character. God wanted to finish his work in me, but first I had to give him permission. First thing right out of the chute–I had to give God permission to finish. He started my life’s possibilities …
There was just one problem. At that time in life, I was more comfortable being an undercover Christian. The idea of giving control of my life to someone else made me break out in a cold sweat. Certainly not my usual course of action. When that “someone else” is God, you’d think I should’ve been able to trust him. But since I had no past experience in trusting God—not really—I had no way of knowing if he’d come through for me.
Neither did the character in my novel—until she agreed with God who and what she was. That was her real start. After that, freedom road.
Do you know someone like that?