These days I’m thinking about desire.
Desire is so important to God. It’s what he uses to get to my heart. Desire was the most influential force in Eve’s choice of her Maker or the fruit, and desire fell with everything else.
Through Jesus, God redeemed it like everything else.
Through Jesus, it’s being sanctified like everything else.
Without Jesus, I’m wading in the muck of my motivations.
But God is always stirring it up to bring me back to his heart.
As he works my healing, my deepest desire is to walk more intimately by trusting his heart toward me.
These days, I am thinking about impulse.
So closely bound with my desire, separating them is like trying to splice air from a breath.
I want to apologize for my impulsiveness. I am unkind to a buried belief that my impulsiveness, my desire is bad. It is a youthful characteristic that was squashed out several years ago by disapproving friends.
“You are young,” a well-meaning friend once counseled about a man’s pursuit of me. “You are vivacious and that attracts them. Once you mature, you won’t have so many problems.”
I thought I buried my impulsiveness in a coffin that day, but I stowed it in a time capsule that I keep unearthing by mistake. So I beat my young heart with the shovel, unable to get away from desire and desperately sure that it is bad.
These days I am thinking about freedom.
Recently I have felt free to make a lot of decisions that are impulsive. A split-second idea to paint my room turns into a three-hundred dollar, three-week project. I didn’t mind. Hours and hours spent rolling paint, primer, and more paint on the walls while God sat with me and we talked. I have never experienced such a longing for him.
But my wounded heart would interject, You should have planned better, Grace. You should have thought this through. You could have saved yourself a lot of time and money.
My free heart rebutted, Why? I am going deeper with the Father. I am learning how to use a drill. By whose measuring stick am I holding myself to that says I am wasting time and money?
The measuring stick of the world. Of anyone watching me. Of my young heart.
The only measuring stick that matters is God’s. And Jesus, who said, “She’s has done a beautiful thing” when Mary bathed his feet in expensive perfume, measures up to it in my place.
I read a line in The Shack last night that goes, “Freedom involves trust and obedience inside a relationship of love.”
My impulse is pushing me out of comfortable quarters into trust. I am learning how to listen and obey his voice within my desire.
I am free in his love to pursue my desire because his love is sanctifying my desire.
And when I let go of his hand and charge ahead, his love is always calling me back.
The other day I spontaneously auditioned for a part in a play, knowing that it was in conflict with a friend’s wedding. God had answered a prayer about it, so I thought he meant me to do it. Even though I felt free to follow that desire, I wasn’t, because freedom never comes at the expense of love.
God gently pricked my heart. Do you love me?
Oh, yes. I want to be free to pursue my impulses, but I want love more. I am not truly free without love, and I was not loving my friend by exchanging his special day for a secondary impulse.
I dropped out of the play.
These days I am thinking about love.
In his love, God lets me have the freedom to act on impulse.
His goodness satisfies my first impulse.
His love informs all secondary impulse.
His deepest desire is for me to be one with him, bound closer than an impulse.