Entering into Heart Transformation
2
A Familiar Friendship with Jesus
to the immense and flaming heart of God.
Catherine de Hueck Doherty
In meditative prayer we are growing into what Thomas à Kempis called “ with Jesus.” We are learning to sink down into the light and life of Christ and becoming comfortable in this posture. We experience the perpetual presence of the Lord (“omnipresence,” as we say) not just as theological dogma but as radiant reality. “He walks with me and he talks with me” ceases to be pious jargon and instead becomes a straightforward description of daily life.
Please understand me: I am not speaking of some mushy, giddy, buddy-buddy relationship. Such insipid sentimentality only betrays how little we know, how distant we are from the Lord high and lifted up who is revealed to us in Scripture. John tells us in his Apocalypse that when he saw the reigning Christ he “fell at his feet as though dead” . . . and so should we (Rev 1:17). The reality I speak of is akin to what the disciples felt in the upper room when they experienced both intense intimacy and awe-full reverence.
An Inner Sanctuary in the Heart
In meditative prayer we are creating the emotional and spiritual space that allows God to construct an inner sanctuary in the heart. The wonderful verse “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock” was originally penned for believers, not unbelievers (Rev 3:20 KJV). Jesus is knocking at the door of our heart—daily, hourly, moment by moment. He is longing to eat with us, to commune with us. He desires a perpetual Eucharistic feast in the inner sanctuary of the heart. Jesus is knocking; meditative prayer opens the door.
The wise apostle Paul reminds us that we are no longer strangers and aliens to the divine fellowship. We have become members of the household of God, a household based on the solid foundation of the apostles and prophets. Jesus himself is the key cornerstone, and it is through him that “the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into ” (Eph 2:21-22, emphasis added).
Allow me to underscore that phrase: my heart, your heart is being made into “a dwelling place for God.” Now, I do not know about you but if my heart is to become “a dwelling place of God,” some major renovations are needed! Teresa of Avila, reflecting on the evil in her own heart, once prayed, “ You have determined to save me, I beseech Your Majesty . . . don’t You think it would be good . . . if the inn where You have to dwell continually would not get so dirty?”
All real formation work is “heart work,” as the great Puritan divines dubbed it. The human heart is the wellspring of all human action. It is the center of all volition and the deep realities of the spirit. John Flavel, a seventeenth-century English Puritan, noted that the “, is to win the heart to God; and the greatest difficulty after conversion, is to keep the heart with God. . . . Heart-work is hard work indeed.”
Two Central Realities
As we consider the transformation of the human heart, we need to keep two central realities clearly in mind. To begin with, we simply cannot program our own heart. We cannot program anyone else’s heart. There is a whole theology that stands behind these statements. I will not go into extreme detail here; I will just state it in this flatfooted manner: You are not in charge of the transformation of your heart. Neither am I. This is God’s domain, and you and I are utterly dependent on God to accomplish the work of heart transformation. We can want heart transformation and seek after heart transformation. Those certainly are good things to do. But the truth is we do not make transformation happen. God does.
Second, the human heart itself is part of our problem. We are, each and every one of us, a tangled mass of motives: hope and fear, faith and doubt, simplicity and duplicity, honesty and falsity, openness and guile. God knows our heart in ways we can never know. Supernatural abilities are needed to untangle the mess. God is the only one who can separate the true from the false. Only God can purify the motives of the heart.
So, you see, we are utterly, utterly dependent upon God to do this transforming work in us: the work of heart purity, of soul conversion, of inward formation, of life transformation. This solitary and interior work within the heart is the most important, the most real, the most lasting reality in human life.
Therefore, the devotional masters’ constant appeal to heart purification speaks an important word for us. It is no vain thing for us to return to our first love over and over and over again. It is an act of faith to continually cry out to God to search us and to know our heart and to root out every wicked way in us (Ps 139:23-24). This is a vital aspect of the salvation of the Lord.
Let me stress this central reality once again: God is the ultimate form-er and trans-former of the human heart. Having said this, I hasten to add that God has graciously invited you and me to participate in this highest, deepest work of heart transformation. Remember, God does not come uninvited. If certain chambers of our heart have never experienced God’s healing touch, perhaps it is because we have never welcomed the divine Scrutiny.
Entering into Heart Transformation
So, what does this formation work deep in the subterranean chambers of the heart look like?
From the divine side of the equation we can see only through a glass darkly. It is a glorious mystery, this working of God upon the human heart. Allowing maximum freedom and volition. Pursuing us quietly, relentlessly. Extending graces and mercies we do not deserve or even seek. Granting us quantum leaps forward into love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. And so much more. This is the great work, but we are severely limited in what we can say about it or even understand. We can only stand in awe and doxology at the goodness of God.
But let me attempt to describe it for you from the human side of the equation. It begins first by our turning to the Light of Jesus. We “mind the Light,” as the old writers put it. For some this is an excruciatingly slow turning, turning, till we turn round right. For others it is instantaneous and glorious. In either case we are coming to trust in Jesus, to accept Jesus as our Life. We are born from above, as we read in John 3.
But our being born from above, of necessity, includes our being formed from above. Being spiritually born is a beginning—a wonder-filled, glorious beginning. It is not an ending. Much intense formation work is necessary before we can stand the fires of heaven. Much training is necessary before we are the kind of person who can safely and easily reign with God.
So now, we are ushered into this new relationship. As Peter put it, we “have been born anew, not of perishable but of imperishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God” (1 Pet 1:23). God is alive! Jesus is real and active in our little affairs.
Hence we begin to pray, to enter into an interactive communication and communion with God. But in the beginning our praying is uneasy and halting. It’s like an alternating current of electricity; our attention bounces back and forth from divine glories to the mundane tasks of daily life. Back and forth, back and forth. And often the alternating is worse—much worse—than not praying at all. One moment we are reveling in holy mysteries and the next moment our minds are wallowing in the gutter of carnal desires.
We feel fractured and fragmented. As Thomas Kelly put it, we are living in “ of panting feverishness.” We feel the pull and push of many obligations and we try to fulfill them all. And more often than not we find ourselves “, strained, oppressed and fearful we shall be shallow.”
Nevertheless, throughout our seeking and struggling we are continually doing three things:
We are asking. Always asking. “Change my heart, O God; make it ever true. Change my heart, O God; may I be like you.” Asking, always asking.
We are listening. Always listening. Like Elijah, we wait through earthquake, wind and fire for the still, small Voice. Listening, always listening.
We are obeying. Always obeying. We obey Christ in all things. We obey the Spirit at all times. We obey the Scripture in all ways. Obeying, always obeying.
Finally, through time and experience—sometimes much time and experience—God begins to give us an amazing settledness in what Thomas Kelly called “.” In the depths of our being our alternating gives way to a well-nigh unbroken life of humble adoration before the living presence of God.
“ but serenity, unshakableness, firmness of life orientation.” In the words of George Fox, we become “established” men and women. We are developing a habit of divine orientation. This is not perfectionism but progress forward in our life with God. The interior work of prayer becomes much simpler. We experience more enduring upreachings of praise and a relaxed listening in the depths of our heart. All that is needed to draw us into a habitual orientation of our heart toward God are little glances heavenward and quiet whispers of submission.
Without even knowing it we are practicing the presence of God. Formal times of prayer merely join into and enhance the steady undercurrent of quiet worship that underlies our days. Behind the foreground of daily life continues the background of heavenly orientation.
This is the formation of the heart before God. Without even realizing it our heart is taking on a new character. Gone are the old impulses for manipulation, anger and revenge. Before we are aware of it, in slip new responses of love and joy and peace and patience and kindness and goodness and faithfulness and gentleness and self-control.
In the words of Thomas Kelly we are entering the experience of “ and power. It is simple. It is serene. It is amazing. It is triumphant. It is radiant. It takes no time, but it occupies all our time. And it makes our life programs new and overcoming. We need not get frantic. He is at the helm. And when our little day is done we lie down quietly in peace, for all is well.”
This is the transformation of the human heart, which, in its time and in its way, will lead us irresistibly into “a familiar friendship with Jesus.”