The Harbor of My Heart
What am I harboring in my heart? Is it a haven of rest where ships
may find shelter from the tempest? Or is it a haven for rotting relics; vessels
anchored for decades with aged barnacles cleaving to their hulls? Can it be
that some putrefying odor is emerging from the hold of the ships; evidence
of something that has long since deteriorated and decomposed: the remains
of those things once treasured? Is the harbor of my heart so utterly crowded with worthless decaying
ancients that no goodly vessel may find anchor there? Perchance do they
wait just outside the harbor, loaded with precious cargo? Does indeed, the
Ship of Grace await its docking, but I will not acknowledge or receive it What am I harboring in my heart? Is it an open channel, free from
obstruction; Does there rest upon the shoreline a Lighthouse; is there a
bright flame shining forth; is it fueled by Precious Oil? May journeying
Mariners approach with assurance of their safety? Is there likewise Precious Treasure to be found within my being:
Precious Cargo to be hoisted aboard ship: to be transported to distant ports,
that an anchoring may be secured in the harbor of another heart? What am I harboring in my heart? Oh God! May it be nothing less than
the Lord Jesus! May the rotted relics of Self-life lose anchor; may they be
carried far out to sea and sink to the bottom. May the stench of Pride
succumb to the sweet fragrance of Humility. Oh Ship of Zion, anchor yourself
in my heart; And from thence, sail forth to others with Your Love!
