Hope for Wandering Hearts

My new friend and I were talking basketball, specifically coaching basketball. Over the years her rancher husband has retired from the game more than once. This ex-coach understands. It gets in your blood. There’s a lot about coaching basketball I miss and some things I don’t. I miss gym time with the girls and teaching the game’s fundamentals, dribbling, passing, and shooting. I believed in teaching the basics and practicing the basics over and over again.

The goal of such repetition was something called muscle memory, which simply means doing something repeatedly until the process becomes automatic and produces consistent results under varying conditions without conscious intent. For example, once firmly engrained, the correct shooting motion will be dependable whether the game’s tipping off or the score is tied with seconds to go! I smile thinking about the player who once discussed her right arm like it belonged to someone else. “It’s determined to do its own thing,” she’d complain. Unfortunately, the thing it wanted to do was twist, thus putting a counter-productive side spin on the ball.

Granted, muscles don’t have memory. The form’s actually stored in the brain. I can’t explain exactly how it works either. However, I’ve discovered a similar spiritual principle that’s deliciously more mysterious. When I first began seeking Christ, I found I could set my spiritual eyes on Him but they’d wander off in record time. I’ve since set and reset my heart towards heaven while my hands were busy on earth more times than I can count. But, guess what? My heart has begun to remember.

Today, when distance opens up before me and my Father, increasingly less time escapes before my heart recognizes it and hurries home. The Psalmist likens this to a wandering bird returning to the nest. Here’s a promise. Set your gaze on Jesus and practice keeping it there. Reset as often as necessary. One day your spiritual muscle will become memory that anchors your heart to God and rewards you with a stable soul, regardless of the circumstances.

Hugs,
Shellie