Glass Heart

A piece of glass is created from chaos. It comes about when sand is struck by lightning hotter than five times the surface of the sun. Or it is created in the heart of a volcano.

It is transparent. Glass has no means to lie. It is recognizable by anyone. It is vulnerable. It is strong enough to shelter people and create fortresses.

Yet weak enough to be shattered to pieces when struck.

This heart of mine is much like a piece of glass. It is transparent, it is strong, it is fragile.

It is vulnerable.

When I love someone—friends and family (and sometimes foe) alike—I love deeply. My heart is strong enough to do so by the grace of God. I give it all, or I give none of it, but it wasn’t always this way.

I learned of the fragility of my heart long before I learned of its strength. I’d given my heart freely to those I thought would protect it—those whose hearts pumped the same blood through their veins.

But they were the first to shatter it.

I’d given it to others: some of whom became family in a deeper way than biology allows, some who asked to receive it, some who seemed to need it.

And more often than not, it was damaged in those hands as well.

To whom can I entrust this heart of mine—one that has been dropped, stepped on, thrown against a wall; one that is missing a few pieces and lopsided with pieces that don’t completely fit together; one that is held together by duct tape and super glue, and prayers and good thoughts—so scarred and bruised and damaged with nothing to hide its imperfections?

No person should ever possess it. Even in this state—especially in this state—it is too precious.

The only hands that would keep it safe are the hands that formed it originally. This heart holds the throne of the King. It is His home. It is His heart.

I’m tired of giving my heart away to those I judge as someone who’d protect it. In my Jesus’ hands alone will it remain until He judges someone worthy. I’m tired of failing in this task that was never mine to begin with.

Though bruised, still beating. Though broken, able to be repaired. Though pieced together, still beautiful.

My heart is a most beautiful heart.

And it will not be easy to gain it.