On Giving Your Heart (Advent Post Three)



What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
yet what can I give him: give my heart.
--Christina Rossetti, "In the Bleak Midwinter"

I love giving gifts. One of my favorite aspects of the Christmas season is the way it creates space to honor people and show them our appreciation. As much as I think that Christmas shouldn't be focused on the presents -- because it shouldn't -- and that there's great benefit that comes with being content with what you have -- because there is -- there's a certain beauty in being able to give my friend a present just for being her, and no one thinks it's strange. I appreciate that.

The problem, though, is that I am not a fantastic giver of gifts. Attempting to find the perfect present that both means something to the other person and has sentimental value in our relationship (always a plus) stresses me out to no end. I still have no idea what to get for the majority of the people on my list.

I was sitting in the MSU Christmas concert last week, though, listening to the choir, and I was so struck with the verse above. So often during Christmas I focus on what I can give others. So often I focus on what God gave me in Christ. It's rare, however, that I sit down at Christmas and think about what I can give Jesus. I want to do what the song says. I want to give him my heart.

I can't help but marvel at what a gift it is to give someone your heart. As much as I love honesty, I'm fairly guarded. I like to let people in, but on my time and in my way. My college career has been pivotal in teaching me to be vulnerable, for which I am so thankful.

The problem is, though, that sometimes I made mistakes in the process of giving. I am not always - I am not often - good at navigating relationships. There's pain involved in the vulnerability. There have been days when I've offered my heart and it's been trod and stomped on. When someone looks at the gift I have to give and only sees the imperfections.

There are days when people break my heart.

Those days hurt. They hurt immensely. They are the days when I question whether or not it would just be safer to leave the wrapping paper on my heart and make sure no one pulls off the bow. They make me question whether or not it's worth engaging with people at all.

But.

Then there are days that are worth it. There have been days when I offer my heart and someone sees it as a treasure. Days when they pick up the mangled bit left from past interactions and make it glow once again. Days when they offer their heart in return for mine.

Oh, what a gift a heart is.

See, the beautiful thing is that despite how messy it is to give away your heart, Jesus gave his away in full. In John 15:13, Jesus says, "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends." Just a few chapters later, Jesus is sentenced to crucification. He literally lays down his life for you. For me.

Isn't that what giving someone your heart is? Doesn't it mean sacrifice, and the potential for pain, and the potential for a whole lot of reward? Sure, it's scary, but I've learned over time that following Christ's example means facing fear.

Despite the vulnerability and risk, though, there's beauty found in the message of the gospel: There is no one safer to give your heart to than Jesus. He'll cherish it. He'll protect it. He'll mold it and grow it. He'll treat it as the gift that it truly is.

Besides, he already gave you his.

And so, dear friends, this advent I want to give my heart. I want to give it fully to Jesus: In my time, my conversations, my worship, my prayers, my finances, my love. I want to give it to the people around me. I want them to have my time, my conversation, my emotions, my engagement, my resources.

I want to give my heart.

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