I'm trying to fill the silence. I tried to put on a show for background noise. I tried to listen to a podcast. But my attention span is short, my mind is wandering, or maybe the Lord is whispering to my heart to sit in the silence. Because I don't want to write, even though I have words to say. I don't want to read, even though I am longing for it. I don't want to journal, even though I've already practiced what I want to say. I don't want to sit still, to be silent, to let the quiet into my heart and mind today.
Why?
Why am I fighting this so much? Why do I find myself not wanting to pray...again. But for different reasons. I haven't run out of things to say to God. My list of things I'm thankful for could be a mile long.
When I sit in the silence, though, my heart breaks. It breaks for the missed opportunities. The times I didn't look up from my phone to make eye contact. The times I hurried my kids along. The times I didn't stop or slow down or say the encouraging words maybe someone needed to hear. The times I filled the space with noise, with entertainment, with things when I could physically feel God pulling me away, beckoning me.
In the quiet, he lays on my heart words, people, things to pray for. Some days and weeks and months and years the theme has been obvious, unchanging. Maybe I'm a slow learner. Maybe he never runs out of things to teach me or people to love on. Recently, each time I get into a quiet moment, I hear the same thing, pressing so deeply into my soul, tender hearts.
So I pray for tender hearts. For my children and my husband and my family and my church. For the unbelieving ones, the calloused ones, the hurting ones, the weak ones, the strong ones. I pray for my neighbors and my friends. For the ones close and far, the ones I've only met online, the writers and mamas and grieving ones. Tender hearts. To see him more. Tender hearts. To break like his. Tender hearts. To long for him. To listen to him. To hear him. To redeem. To be still. To move and be bold.
And the more I pray for tender hearts, the more tender mine has become. I have not left myself out, of course. I pray for mine, the neediest of them all. I pray for a tender heart just as I've prayed for eyes to see.
And God answered. He answers. And I keep working through this prayer thing. Praying for others. Praying for openness and love and healing and understanding. And he just answers with asking me to pray for tender hearts. Tender heart. Mine.
And the more I pray for this tender heart, the more tender, the more broken I become. Tender and broken? Loving and beloved? Tender, soft, moldable...to be handled with care. But to not. Tender doesn't mean weak. Tender, full of holes to absorb the ones around me. Full of holes, poured out love. Generous love, generous life. Tender, fully whole. Tender, full of holy? Tender and teachable and loved and lost. Merciful. That's it, isn't it? The more I grow, the more I know I need Jesus because I am nothing at all and the least of the tender ones, I'm sure.
Because my heart tends to be more protecting, more skeptical, more wondering, more like holding close and closing doors and not letting them in. Who in? Anyone in. Anyone who might hurt me or mine. Anyone who may not be trustworthy or may fail me. Or make my kids cry. Or lie or steal or be just too needy. I shut them all out because of inconvenience and interruption and uncomfortable. But love.
Love isn't always comfortable or even lovely. Love is...tender. Love is kind. Love is not self-seeking. Self-seeking, seeking self. Well, that's me, isn't it. Except I'd like to think my self extends to my children and my husband, but then again....I somehow think I deserve my time. I cut short the bedtime conversations because I need quiet time before bed. Quiet time that I fill with noise. (cue eye roll here)
Tender heart. Listening ears. Eyes to see. It's all right here. Just love the ones right in front of me.
I don't even have to look far or hard, the Lord positions us in the way of others, the ones who need us, the ones who will love us (or hate us or need us or pour into us).
Tender hearts break. They break for what breaks his. They love who he loves. Tender hearts are the force behind being the hands and feet of Jesus.
Lord, break our hearts for what breaks yours. Give us tender hearts and courageous, active love to back them up. Give us eyes to see and bold words to speak life into the ones you set in our path. Give us tender hearts like yours. In your name, amen.