A clean heart

I've found myself praying a lot for a clean, pure heart (Psalm 51:10). It's something I can't buy, earn or deserve, but instead something that I have to trust that God will do through time and practice.

I just feel like at this point in my life, it's time to get real about all the junk in my heart. Every second evil thoughts swirl, desires are perverted, and I craft new ways to keep on doing things my way. None of it is working or life-giving, and I know it must make God so sad.

(Maybe this is a sign that I've grown tremendously, but I can't think of anything I hate more than making God sad. It makes me literally weepy.)

So, in the interest of cultivating a cleaner heart, I, in bold, declare my ugliest sin: I was born a naturally talented liar. What I mean is that some people have the storytelling gift.

As a kid I would exaggerate (even then understanding my limits) always knowing just the precise moment to stop at before I'd get caught. When I was a teenager and later in college, deception wasn't for notoriety's sake, but to avoid disappointing someone. At some point it mixed to satisfy the nastiest of my personal sins - pride. I got older, and the fear of approval and perfection led me away from accountability.

I wish I could say that I made a concerted effort to stop lying, but once I really started walking out my life with God's input factored in, I simply COULDN'T lie any longer.

Sure, I could still be deceitful, but tell an out and out lie? Impossible. Even white lies got hard. I searched for creative answers to "Does this outfit make me look fat?"

Umm.."I think we can do better." Note: honesty does not have to be brutal.

But recently I saw the biggest realization that my heart is being transformed into one that is like-minded with Christ's.

I messed up at work. Somewhere in the line of communication, I dropped the ball, discovered it on my own, and I wanted to hide it. I was afraid that my boss would be disappointed, mad, and ultimately fire me. You know, a totally rational thought process.

The thing is, this wasn't a crisis about me telling a lie - it was a fight to keep myself from going to that point. A fight to be accountable and tell the truth before my boss could realize it - casting light on my mistake. I wouldn't have been lying, but it sure as hell felt like it.

Coincidentally (or not) I listened to a Rob Bell sermon on Saturday about the Ninth Commandment - "Thou shalt not bear false witness" commonly known as "Do not lie." In typical Rob Bell fashion, he blew my mind.

He focused primarily on Genesis 1, and the differences between the light of the sun, moon and stars (created in verse 14) with the reality of light itself (which preceds their creation in verse 3). So, where did light come from before the items that spread its glow were created? It would seem to suggest that light comes from God's very presence.

So according to this idea that God's very existence is light, and truth exists when you shed light on something, my hiding in the darkness of deceit isn't just harmful to me, but a heartfelt rejection of everything God is...everything I've tried to become.

Huge.

So with this thought, not telling the truth wasn't even about covering my butt or preserving someone's feelings, but about walking in God's true reality, and acknowledging that I was taking accountability for him.

So I confessed my error. The result is infinitesimally smaller than the mountain-sized volcano I made it in my head. It wasn't even a big deal. As I walked back to my desk, thanking God for his provision, I couldn't help but feel like God's probably chuckling about how I stressed about it. But I prayed before and afterward, and I feel like my obedience was delivered.

More than anything, it's just good to know that I bucked up for God. I did it because I wanted to align my life with his - not to get anything out of it or be more blessed.

And that is how I know that he's scrubbing this heart clean.