“Facedown…where mercy finds me first. Oh if you sought perfection…I’d die trying to reach it, but this broken heart is all you want.”
Hillsong’s “Heart like Heaven” wrecks me every time I hear it. As I sang in a crowded auditorium filled with the sweet sound that only heartfelt worship can create, I felt God grip me and whisper “this one’s for you, daughter.”
Last week when I heard it, I started bawling in a church aisle. And let me tell you something, friends. There are two types of people in the world. The kind that I swear GLISTEN when they cry and look like the most beautiful teary-eyed angel in the world. And then…there’s the rest of us. You know, the kind of criers that they make memes about. (Kim K, anyone?) I’m in the second group. The seal-sobbing, swollen face kind of crier that makes people in the front aisle turn around and ask “um, are you OK?”
Anyway, my tear-soaked face aside, these lyrics wreck me because they speak to my soul in the deepest way. And I’ve been running too fast and too far away to listen.
As the end-of-semester stress approaches, I feel like the weight of my own expectations has knocked me facedown. I feel defeated. Exhausted. Heavy. Worn. Broken. Stressed. And most of all, I feel guilty for feeling that way.
Friends, I am a die-hard perfectionist. If they had AA for perfectionism, I’d be the president. I like things to be exactly the way I expect and the way I plan, and even then, it’s usually still not good enough.
It’s a toxic disease, perfectionism. People dress it up and turn it into “working hard” or “being thorough,” and sometimes it is. But a lot of times, it’s neither. It’s a sickness. And it frustrates me because I write about it a lot, but I never seem to fully learn my lesson.
But tonight, I felt God begging me to just be still, stop being stubborn and open my heart to Him.
To me, that song illustrates my struggle perfectly. I would die to reach perfection. I am practically killing myself now to achieve and to succeed. But Jesus doesn’t want nor need me to try to reach an impossible goal.
All He wants is my broken heart.
How amazing is that?
Jesus wants the heart that is battered and bruised. He wants the heart that bears scars from past mistakes and stretch marks from being pulled too hard. He wants the one that aches from the weight of Sin and our sadness. He wants the ugly one filled with shame, the gross one glued together with guilt.
Jesus wants my heart even when I feel like it’s too broken to give Him.
Even when all I can do is cry and say “help me,” Jesus still cares. And even when I fail tests, disobey Him and make messes, He still wants me.
He wants me.
He wants you.
He loves me.
He loves you.
And His desire for us isn’t proven by what we do but by who He is.
I’m done stressing about what Jesus already paid for. I would die to reach perfection, but that would never be enough. Instead, Jesus died so that His perfection would be more than enough.
My broken, surrendered heart is all He wants. So is yours, friend.