There’s a prayer that runs through my head sometimes: Let the Son of God hold you. Please fill in your desire. Let it fill your heart.
I’m sitting with that word—desire. Because we’ve made it kind of dirty, haven’t we? We’ve turned it into something you’re supposed to resist, something you’re supposed to kill in yourself so that you can be more spiritual, more acceptable, more holy.
But what if your desire matters to God? Not the destructive stuff that eats you from the inside. But the actual yearning of your heart. The thing you want to be true about yourself. The person you want to become. The way you want to love. The difference you want to make.
Scripture keeps telling us that God notices. That God cares about the actual texture of your life, not just whether you show up to the right place on the right day. God fills the heart. That’s what we’re promised. Not a list of rules. Not a judgment about whether your desire is the right one. But a filling. A provision. An abundance.
And here’s what I’ve learned: when I’m operating out of that kind of trust—when I actually believe that God is not stingy with good things, that there’s enough for me, that my desire matters—I’m a different person. I’m kinder. I’m less defensive. I’m actually more able to help somebody else.
The fear-based version of faith tells you that you can’t trust your own heart. And maybe that’s right about some things. But the Jesus version of faith keeps saying: your hunger for good is real. And I see you. And I will fill you.
A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope