Let's be honest. It is easy to fool people. We can smile, we can talk polite, we can nod our heads, all without revealing what is actually on our minds.
You shake the hand. Say the words. "Hi, nice to meet you." All the while thinking, "Okay, enough, I'm running late..." For where? Does it matter? Our lives are busy, we are always in a hurry...to somewhere...anywhere.
I love this very bold, but truthful statement by Beth Moore:
"You can't bull God."
Four words, but what an impact. We, as part of humankind, excel at bull. As a student, I learned early on how to meet the word count for papers. I'm pretty good at repeating the same point in a bunch of different ways. I am a professional quotation mark, stringing along other people's words to fill the margins of the blank white pages.
Then there are the people who can make anything sound intelligent. These are the college students who most likely haven't even read the material for class, but they show up and they talk big and it sure seems like they know what they are talking about. And you just rub your head going, "Now why didn't I think of that?" Unfortunately, I am not one of those "think at the top of your head" people. I'm not very good at improvisation. If I haven't read the material, the teachers know I haven't read the material. That's just how I am.
Don't mistake me for saying that I don't bull people. Moreover, that I don't bull myself. Many times I've bulled myself right into thinking that I could in fact bull God. That I could fool Him with my "I'm fine" smile, like I can easily fool most of the people I come in contact with. That I can trick Him into thinking that I've shared my whole heart with Him, when I've actually kept pieces of it to myself. That my motives are pure and for His purpose, when in reality His purposes just coincide with my own selfish desires.
We can't bull God.
We simply can't. It's impossible. He knows all. He's the seer of hearts.
1 Samuel 16:7 says: "God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart” (NASB).
The Greek word kardiognostes means "Knower of the heart" (Beth Moore, David: Seeking a Heart Like His).
Not only does the LORD see our hearts, but He knows our hearts.
He knows our hearts when we say "I'm doing good" when they are breaking, shattering, falling to pieces inside the recesses of our chests.
He knows our hearts when we outwardly are flamboyant and loud, when inside it is only a cover to hide just how alone, just how abandoned we feel.
He knows our hearts when we are in the dark, He knows the secrets shames that haunt us, that tempt us.
He knows our hearts when we fulfill religious obligations, when we participate in "check-list" faith to make us feel better about ourselves, when our souls are crying out for a passionate relationship with Him. When we just don't know the directions from the lowland to the mountain top.
He knows our hearts. Inside and out. He not only knows their physical features, the valves that He made, the beats He monitors, but He also knows all the crooks and crannies, all of what we thought were our good hiding spots. We always lose when we decide to play hide and seek with God. There are no doors, no locks that can keep Him out. There isn't a wall to a room that He can't see through.
Like Adam and Eve, we hear His feet and we dash - we dash to cover up the shame, to cover up the dirty, filthy mess of our sin nature - we dash so we can present ourselves as someone who doesn't need His help, as someone who doesn't want to feel guilty, as someone who simply can't trust Him.
When we hear His feet walking through our gardens, we hide, we cover ourselves. Like a scared child we curl into a crevasse of a hedge, wiggling as the thorns pierce the skin. We cover our eyes and shake with dread, because we know we have sinned. We know. And He knows. "Where are you?" His voice calls, even though He already knows. He sees our feet sticking out, He hears our heavy breathing. We tremble. We try to cower deeper inside. And then we see Him. He is not angry. He is sad. But He is also compassionate and loving. He takes our hands and draws us to His chest. Just moments ago, His big statue had evoked fear, but as He cradles, it evokes comfort, security, love.
"Why do you hide from Me, Child?"
Even at His tenderness, we sometimes feel the need to try to trick Him. To place the blame on someone else. To justify our actions.
We can't bull God.
So instead of saying the words we think we are supposed to say, we blurt out the truth. We expose the ugliness, the fears, the anger, the disappointment, the lack of passion, the heartache. We may even beat our tightly clenched fists onto His chest. We cry out and flail -until we are finally spent. Until we have emptied all of ourselves, all the parts of our hearts onto Him. Only then do we have peace. Only then can we fall into a deep sleep, unafraid, against His chest, His mighty arms surrounding and protecting. What a blessing it is to not have to bull someone. It’s exhausting.
We are open books to Him. To Him we wear our hearts on our sleeves. He sees the heart, He knows the heart. He wants us to willingly share the heart.
Be real with Him.
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