I take out my heart and hold it, near objectively, I can feel it, but it can’t quite feel me.
For a time it felt too much of everything, too strongly, too fearfully, so now I hold it out at a distance and observe it suspended in a cool, dormant state.
From time to time it whirs and revs like an engine about to act and then it clicks off and returns to its waiting, avoiding that feeling of feeling too much.
Surely it beats still, and knows of joys and aches and sorrows, but encased as it is in fear, it does not beat so brightly as it was built to, nor as darkly, nor as true.
So there it is, my heart chilled and closed in, and I know in my head it is my work, my choice, to crack the casing so it may breathe in open, vulnerable air.
Yes here is my heart in my hands, and it is my work and my decision to surrender it to hands mightier than my own, to hands profoundly more gentle and loving.
By grace through faith, those are the means and terms of surrender, from a starting point of deeply known and loved, and yet it is work to release it from my grasp.
For the heart open is open to pain, for the Spirit grieves, the Son weeps, and Yahweh aches for closed hearts to be open, to know and dwell in their place in the kingdom.
So in time I will release my death-grip on this heart of mine and surrender, accept the deep grace that surrounds me, trust in breathing, bleeding life — in time, yes, in time.