Incurable Hearts

Two Valentine’s Days stand out in my memory.

The first Valentine’s I remember celebrating was in Mrs. Koch’s first grade class. She gave us careful instructions to bring an empty shoebox to school the next day. We would turn it into our Valentine mailbox to receive all the tiny white envelopes from our classmates.  My family kept all of our shoes in the original boxes, so I worried whether I would be able to find one that could follow me to school. But I found one and decorated the box with the best of my creative hearts. It was pretty, definitely in the top, oh, say, 50 percentile of the class.  Nancy and Jose always took up the top 10 percentile. Next I worried about whether I would choose the right valentine for each of my classmates and whether I would get as many in return. And whether Russell, the freckled faced boy I chased on the playground at recess, would pick one out for me or let his mother do it. I proudly carried my box home full of cards and little candy hearts with sweet nothings stamped on them.

The other Valentine’s memory is our first married one. We were both in college, had just moved away from our hometown (i.e. homesick) and were closing in on our 8^th month anniversary. We were full-time students and each had a part-time job. Money was tight. Money was real tight. Then we found a coupon for Shakey’s Pizza for one heart shaped pizza and a pitcher of soft drink for $5.99. That was still a lot, but we splurged. We lingered to drink the whole pitcher of Coke so we didn’t waste it. We noted that heart shapes had less area than the normal circular pizza. We discovered the value of date night, even before married couples were advised to put them on the calendar. We didn’t think our hearts could love each other more, but we were wrong. We didn’t think we could hurt the other’s heart, but of course, we were wrong again. To love is to hurt sometimes.

Valentine’s Day, holiday of the heart. When hearts are reciprocal in their love, it’s a celebration. When reciprocal in their hurt, it’s a sad reminder of what was. When one-way, it’s a reminder of what wasn’t. It turns out, our hearts are complicated.

God spoke about the complexity of the heart in simple terms in Jeremiah 17:9 [NIV]:

The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure.

Who can understand it?

Deceitful enough even to trick ourselves. Incurable, never to be healed to perfection. Puzzling, a mystery even to the highest of EQs.

Before we give up on the hopeless case of our stinking mean heart, we must drop down to verse 14 to see the prayer of the Israelites in response to this accusation.

Heal me, LORD, and I will be healed.

Save me and I will be saved,

For you are the one I praise.

My prayer for you this week on Valentine’s Day is that your incurably sick heart will be healed by the One you praise. If your heart is broken, lean solely on Him, giving time to fuse it back together so you can risk loving again. If your heart is wounded, look for the wounds in the other heart also. Be as willing to nurse it back to health as you are to accept your own mending. If your heart is still loving through the scars of past battles, carry on.

If you love, you will, with certainty, exchange wounds again, because our hearts are deceitful and incurable. But as long as our wounds become scars, the healing of the incurable heart will continue, and you will find more love than you thought possible.