The phrase “your heart breaks in all the right places,” streams out of the speakers in my car. One of my favorite singer/songwriters catches me off guard again. I want to be the person he’s singing about.
But I’m about as far away as a person can get.
So the past week I’ve been wondering, what would it look like for my heart to break in all the right places?
Less heartbreak over being left-out, rejected, made fun of, forgotten. Fewer tears over someone not liking me, trivial things frustrating me, or stress getting the best of me. Less sorrow from being over-looked or misunderstood or not the funny one in the room.
Instead my tears might flow over the injustice of racism, prevalence of poverty, and horrors of trafficking. I would be weeping for the orphan, the widow, the homeless.
I care about those things. But not as much as I care about myself. That’s why someone offending me burns a much larger hole in my heart than the story of a homeless man dying from cold out on the streets.
I want my heart to break in all the right places, but I have such a long way to go. May the process of my sanctification and yours take us ever closer to that point.