I was immersed in worship the other day, exalting the Lord and asking him to take his place on the throne in my heart and mind. Lately, I have been distracted by many things, and even bitter about a few, and giving things way too much time and attention. Exalting them above the Lord, as it turns out when you allow your focus to make something in your life so much bigger than God. So in my worship, I was urging the Lord to take back his rightful place in my heart, and he showed me something that grieved me: it was Jesus, walking a thin path through broken and torn down idols to get to his throne.
There’s only one place for an idol to go in our lives, and that’s straight to the throne room. There, it competes with other things to become our number one priority. If we aren’t careful, the throne room of our hearts, made to be inhabited by Christ himself, is full of other useless things. It begins to look more like a storage room than a throne room. And we ask Jesus continually to wade through our filth to take his rightful place …
I’m sorry. I’m sorry there is so much in me that clutters my heart and makes it uninviting. I’m sorry you have to wade through all these other things that I have given my devotion to. I’m sorry your throne is there, among the ruins of my wants, reminding you of my wanderings. And I’ve asked you to come in and take your place, but not taken the time to clean out my heart first. Now I find myself in the awkward position of asking you to help me, to remove these idols and destroy them, knowing you are gracious enough to do it, but humiliated that you must because without you, I can’t. You’re so precious, Lord. So longsuffering. So loving and kind. There is truly none like you. Let me love you with all of my heart, Lord, not just the empty spaces between these idols.