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It was a perfect day. Not a cloud in the sky. The temperatures still held their early-morning coolness. Two nights of rain had filled the river nicely, with just enough of a current to make kayaking ideal.
As we paddled down the river, I reveled in the green, lush scenery of a rainy month, the sound of water lapping against the kayak, the cornfields and pasturelands.
My husband loves taking pictures. We have 44 of them from our less-than-two-hour paddle. Some are worth keeping; others are not. I’m thankful he remembers to take pictures and capture memories. I, on the other hand, get lost in my surroundings, thinking about countless things as my mind wanders like hummingbirds in August, searching for riverbank flowers.
In one particular picture, he caught me looking very serious. As I studied the photo, I wondered, What on earth was I thinking about? Why such a serious expression as I floated down the river on an idyllic morning? Do I often look that way?
When We Cannot See
That photo prompted me to think about self-awareness. It’s only as good as what we can see or hear, or are willing to see or hear. Oftentimes I am blind to what I cannot see in myself and deaf to what loved ones might offer.
“Search me, God, know my heart;
try me, know my thoughts.
See if there is a grievous way in me;
lead me along an ancient path.” (Psalm 139:23–24)
Do I want God to search my heart? I do. Are there areas in my heart I would rather ignore? Probably. Are there hidden places in my heart I have yet to explore? Yes.
Patiently He Waits
One thing I’ve learned is that God doesn’t barge in. He is patient and waits for an invitation that says, Show me what I cannot see on my own.
But why wander down this path? Why not leave heart matters alone? Or the past to the past?
Because I believe the Lord wants to “lead us along the ancient path.”
Why this path?
As good as we may think we are at navigating our lives, we all drift from time to time. It happens almost without our noticing, just like a kayak without a paddle will inevitably follow the current, eventually finding itself caught in the brush or the limbs of a fallen tree along the riverbank.
Perhaps our hearts are not so different.
Humility leads us to revelation, and revelation, when surrendered to God, leads us to transformation.
But transformation isn’t simply about becoming more self-aware. God doesn’t search the heart merely so that we can understand ourselves better. He searches so that He can draw us near to His heart, heal us, and set us free.
The Ancient Path
There are two paths tucked into David’s prayer: “the grievous way in me” and “the ancient path.”
There is the path in me that overthinks, reacts, protects, fears, or strives, often without my even recognizing it. And there is the path of God-the ancient path, the way of truth, the way of interior peace.
Perhaps that is why we need to ask Him to search us. We are not always the best navigators of our own hearts.
Jeremiah tells us:
“Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
and you will find rest for your souls.”
(Jeremiah 6:16)
The ancient path, the way of God, leads to rest.
The Way Back
We tend to think that examining the deeper places of our hearts will make life heavier. What will I uncover? Will I confront something too hard? What might need to change?
Yet God’s invitation is not toward condemnation but toward freedom. He reveals what has taken us off course so that He can lead us back to Him.
And maybe returning is less complicated than we make it. It begins with the humility to admit, I may not see everything clearly.
Lord, Search me.
Show me.
And lead me.
Back to the ancient path.
Back to Your heart.
