Your Whole Heart {a Flash Fiction Story}

A few months ago, I wrote a flash fiction story entitled Your Whole Heart about something that God's been teaching me. I hope it blesses you. <3

“It hurts!” I scream at the sky. I pinch my lips together tightly, as if in an attempt to hold in the anguish threatening to explode. A lump grows in my throat until I can’t even swallow around it, and my next words come out as only a squeak. “It hurts.”

The raindrops splatter on my face to mingle with the tears that finally flow down my face. The tears that I’ve held back for so, so long.

The tears that I won’t let anyone see.

I collapse to my knees, the moisture that soaks through my jeans going unheeded. My entire body racks with the sobs that I can no longer control.

I scream, digging my fingers into the soil and uprooting blades of grass as if my life depends on it, and yet I can’t keep my heart from feeling as if it’s being ripped in two. I’ve been told that a ‘good cry’, letting everything out, makes a person feel better. But no, it deepens the pain and and hones the emptiness inside. A bottomless pit of hopelessness and despair.

Be still, and know that I am God.

Hopelessness and despair.

I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.

Hopelessness and despair?

I give power to the weak, and to those who have no might I increase strength.

My sobs intensify. “God, where have you been?”

You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with your whole heart.

“I looked for You, Father.” My voice wavers, then drops to a whisper. “I tried, I tried so hard.”

With your whole heart.

My whole heart? Of course I did.

Didn’t I?

“I needed You, God.” My voice is hardly more than a whimper. “I needed You, but I couldn’t find You. You weren’t there when I needed you. What’s changed?”

I am the same yesterday, today and forever.

It hits me like a lightning bolt. He’s not the one who has changed. I am.

Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth. I give power to the weak, and to those who have no might I increase strength. You will seek Me and find Me when you seek Me with your whole heart.

Your whole heart.

My whole heart. “It hurts, God.” I slowly shove to my feet. “It hurts too bad. It hurts too bad to trust.”

Your whole heart.

“It hurts!” My voice rises to a shout. “Do you hear me? It hurts!” My face collapses in a mess of tears. All my life I’ve listened to the lies whispered in my ear. To let go, to step out in faith, to give all my burdens to God . . . it sounds so easy. But oh, it hurts. It hurts to think that all that is familiar to me, even the loneliest mentality, will be taken away, and I’ll be left stripped bare of all that I know.

My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.

“I . . . I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up on wings like eagles. They shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.

I’m not strong enough. Not strong enough. I’m weak, I’m worthless.

Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?
More value?

The very hairs of your head are numbered.

But can I really believe it? Can I believe that I really am worthy?

I so loved the world that I gave My Son.

My quick intake of breath catches in my throat. The simple words that I’ve known since I was four years old take on new form. He gave His Son . . . to die . . . for me. For me?

For you.

I drop to my knees again, touching my forehead to the soggy earth, hands clasped above my head. My body rocks back and forth, my eyes squeezed shut, yet a few tears leak out anyway. “I’m so sorry, God.” My breath comes in gasps. “So, so sorry.”

I lift my face to the sky. “Forgive me, God. Forgive me for not seeking You with my whole heart. I’m sorry . . . I’m not worth it.” I finally give voice to the whispers inside my head that have plagued me for so long. “I’m not worth anything. Every time I try to do better, I seem to make things worse. I’m awkward, I don’t think before I speak, I’m judgmental.” Once I begin to label my faults, the list just grows longer and longer and I can’t stop myself before I say them out loud. “I’m jealous, I’m possessive of things—and people—that I really have no right to hold back. I’m sensitive, I have a quick temper, and I’m constantly having pity parties. Father, I want to change.”

Nothing is impossible with Me.

“God . . . okay.” I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly and wiping my eyes with shaking hands. “Okay. I want You to use me, God. I want people to be able to watch me and say, ‘she’s got Jesus.’ I want to be so on fire for You that all else fades in the background. I want faith like Noah, courage like David, and humility like John the Baptist. Mold me, God, into who You created me to be.”

I swallow and finally eke out the words that took so long to come to my lips.

“I am Yours, wholly and completely.”