With Our ‘Hole’ Hearts

“Hallelujah!

I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart.”

—Psalm 111

By Ken Woodley

Take my hand and I’ll take yours.

We’ll hold nothing back.

We’ll release our “Hallelujah!” from the highest peak, but also from the deepest valley. From the brightest day, but also from the darkest night.

We’ll give thanks to the Lord with our whole heart.

Every inch. Each corner of our heart.

Across our heart’s entire lifetime.

Down every hallway of our heart and inside every room—even those that we keep carefully locked, and sometimes pretend aren’t there.

Down certain hallways and inside particular rooms—those we try to pretend that we have left behind forever—is where we find the holes in our heart.

The places of deepest pain and sorrow that seem too deep and wide to wade through.

The places that make us feel as if we’re drowning.

How, we’ll surely ask ourselves, can we shout “Hallelujah!” about the things that have torn so many holes in our heart?

Such a thing is impossible, we’ll tell ourselves. It simply can’t be done.

But then we’ll turn on the light and find there is a way after all. We’ll discover that we aren’t alone in that room with the door that we had carefully locked. 

We’ll discover that the Lord has slipped in beside us after we’d turned the key, opened the door and stepped inside.

We’ll turn on the light see that we are not alone in that room that has been furnished with sorrow for so very long.

Sorrow walls and sorrow ceiling.

Sorrow sofas and sorrow chairs.

Sorrow air for sorrow breathing.

Sorrow holes in sorrow hearts.

But our hearts will keep on beating.

And then our hearts will win.

Because we’ll feel the Lord surrounding us with love, filling our hearts with love because the holes are where the Lord’s love most truly finds us, filling every hole of sorrow until the love runs over.

And we’ll feel the current of that love taking us away, out of the room, down the hallway. 

And we’ll hear the key falling to the floor because we won’t need it anymore.

The room is still there. We cannot erase any moment of our lives. But the door will remain open. The light always on. The shades ever raised. 

The holes are still there, too. Right there in our heart. They always will be.

But they are no longer places to mourn and fear because they are filled now with the Lord’s love.

God loving us just as we are. 

This is a miracle of truth for us all: the holes in our heart are where the Lord loves us the most because that is where we need it most.

For that we absolutely can shout ‘Hallelujah!’ and give thanks with our whole heart.

Every square inch of our lifetime.

Holes and all.

Especially when we find ourselves—again—in that room with the door we kept locked for so long.

The window within it now seems to have a different view.

“Hallelujah!
I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart.”

—Psalm 111

By Ken Woodley

Take my hand and I’ll take yours.
We’ll hold nothing back.
We’ll release our “Hallelujah!” from the highest peak, but also from the deepest valley. From the brightest day, but also from the darkest night.
We’ll give thanks to the Lord with our whole heart.
Every inch. Each corner of our heart.
Across our heart’s entire lifetime.
Down every hallway of our heart and inside every room—even those that we keep carefully locked, and sometimes pretend aren’t there.
Down certain hallways and inside particular rooms—those we try to pretend that we have left behind forever—is where we find the holes in our heart.
The places of deepest pain and sorrow that seem too deep and wide to wade through.
The places that make us feel as if we’re drowning.
How, we’ll surely ask ourselves, can we shout “Hallelujah!” about the things that have torn so many holes in our heart?
Such a thing is impossible, we’ll tell ourselves. It simply can’t be done.
But then we’ll turn on the light and find there is a way after all. We’ll discover that we aren’t alone in that room with the door that we had carefully locked.
We’ll discover that the Lord has slipped in beside us after we’d turned the key, opened the door and stepped inside.
We’ll turn on the light see that we are not alone in that room that has been furnished with sorrow for so very long.
Sorrow walls and sorrow ceiling.
Sorrow sofas and sorrow chairs.
Sorrow air for sorrow breathing.
Sorrow holes in sorrow hearts.
But our hearts will keep on beating.
And then our hearts will win.
Because we’ll feel the Lord surrounding us with love, filling our hearts with love because the holes are where the Lord’s love most truly finds us, filling every hole of sorrow until the love runs over.
And we’ll feel the current of that love taking us away, out of the room, down the hallway.
And we’ll hear the key falling to the floor because we won’t need it anymore.
The room is still there. We cannot erase any moment of our lives. But the door will remain open. The light always on. The shades ever raised.
The holes are still there, too. Right there in our heart. They always will be.
But they are no longer places to mourn and fear because they are filled now with the Lord’s love.
God loving us just as we are.
This is a miracle of truth for us all: the holes in our heart are where the Lord loves us the most because that is where we need it most.
For that we absolutely can shout ‘Hallelujah!’ and give thanks with our whole heart.
Every square inch of our lifetime.
Holes and all.
Especially when we find ourselves—again—in that room with the door we kept locked for so long.
The window within it now seems to have a different view.







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