Hope for the Troubled Heart

I see it when I preach. I can tell by the way men and women lean forward as I describe the promises of love and peace found in the Gospel. It’s in the longing in their eyes.
I see it when I meet one-on-one with people to counsel them. As they pour out their problems and worries, I find myself nodding in recognition.
I’ve seen it when I look in the mirror. I’ve had it too.
“It” is a troubled heart, and in so many ways it’s the face of Christianity today.
By their own admission, an increasing number of believers are not experiencing the joy and life-change offered by Jesus Christ. Instead, they are frustrated and disillusioned. Their marriages are deteriorating; their relationships with their kids are marked by chaos and conflict; they’re giving in to self-destructive behaviors. The Christian life simply isn’t working for them. Many of these people are settling for mediocrity by covering up their problems with a happy face. An alarming number are giving up on Christianity altogether.
Have I just described your life? Have you become a better actor instead of a better Christian? Is your heart so heavy and confused that you’re secretly ready to abandon your faith?
And yet Jesus said, “Do not let your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid—stop allowing yourselves to be agitated and disturbed; and do not permit yourselves to be fearful and intimidated and cowardly and unsettled” (John 14:27 AMP).
“Do not let.” “Do not permit.” Was Jesus really implying that we can do something about our bewilderment and frustration, that we have the power to change? Inspired by a gradual awakening to the state of my own troubled heart, I’ve spent the last few years exploring that very question. And I’ve made a vital discovery: Each of us can live with an untroubled heart—a heart marked by God’s joy and peace, a heart that has been changed, freed, healed, and renewed. We’ve missed it because we’ve failed to get to the heart of the matter. Keep reading and I’ll explain what I mean. But first let me share part of my own story.

  I was nineteen years old and miserable. I’d spent most of my high school years partying and fighting, and had barely graduated. For the previous year I’d worked in a warehouse in Oakland, California. Finally, after twelve months of packing boxes, I’d earned a vacation, so a friend and I celebrated by driving to Reno for several days of drinking and run-ins with the city police. In more ways than one, it was a wasted week.
Now I was at my grandparents’ home in Turlock. It was Saturday afternoon; I had to be back at work in Oakland, ninety miles away, by Monday morning. I didn’t know how I could face another year of box-packing. I was completely depressed, with no hopes or plans for the rest of my life—or even for that night.
Suddenly, an idea popped into my head. Judy Barrows lives around here. I wonder if she’d go out with me tonight?
I looked up Judy’s number and called. To my surprise, she accepted my short-notice date proposal.
A few hours later, I pulled up to Judy’s ranch-style home in my pride and joy, a ’53 green and yellow Chevy Bel Air. Judy, wearing a yellow summer dress, looked great. My hopes of quickly whisking her away in my dream mobile were soon dashed, however.
“Dennis, my brother is going to be on television in a few minutes,” Judy said. “Would you mind if we watched a little of the program?”
What could I say? I reluctantly consented.
After family introductions, I sat down in the Barrows’ living room with Judy and her father, mother, brother, and sister, wondering what I was getting myself into. The program host came on and announced that we were about to see a Billy Graham crusade from Madison Square Garden in New York.
I’d heard of Billy Graham, but didn’t know anything about him. And I certainly didn’t know until that moment that Cliff Barrows, the program’s master of ceremonies and song leader, was Judy’s brother!
We watched for a few minutes. I had no interest in the message or what Billy Graham was saying about the Bible. As far as I was concerned, church was for hypocrites and old ladies. I could feel my palms start to sweat.
This was not what I had in mind for the evening.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned to Judy and whispered, “Maybe it’s time for us to go.”
Her father heard me. “Dennis,” he said, “I think it would be a good idea for you to watch the whole program.” The look in his eye and the tone of his voice made it clear that the matter was not up for debate. If I wanted to date this man’s daughter, I was going to have to sit through the entire show.
It was one of the longest hours of my life.
At last, the program ended. I barely remember where Judy and I went that night—probably to the local drive-in for something to eat. But I’ll never forget what happened when we got back to her house.
We parked in Judy’s driveway and started to talk. I shared about how much I disliked my warehouse job, described my awful “vacation,” and admitted that my life had no meaning or direction.
Judy looked at me intently. “Dennis, you need what Billy was talking about tonight—a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.”
I raised my hand. “Oh, no,” I said. “I’ve already heard one sermon too many tonight. I don’t need another one from you. I think I’d better get going.”
“Okay,” she answered. “But before you go, I want to pray for you.” Judy didn’t wait for me to answer. She closed her eyes and in a sweet, gentle voice, started praying out loud, inviting Jesus to move into and take hold of my life.
I was stunned. No one had ever prayed like this just for me.
When she finished, Judy opened her eyes and looked again at me. “Now,” she said, “why don’t you pray and give your life to Christ?”
The strangest feeling came over me. My resistance seemed to melt away. The desire to escape was gone. For some reason, I couldn’t say no to Judy’s question. Instead, I looked down and began to speak.
“God,” I said in a low voice, “if You’re really there and You’re real…if You can do anything with this crazy life of mine…then do it.”
For me, the experience was like being in a dark room and suddenly finding the light switch. I knew this was real. I’d met the Living Christ right there in Judy Barrows’ driveway.
I now had hope. I returned to Oakland, bought a Bible, and a few days later felt prompted to quit my job at the warehouse. I loaded my few possessions into the Bel Air and drove to Los Angeles, where I soon convinced the registrar at a Christian school then called Biola College to allow me to enroll. Biola was a new world to me, and I loved it. I soaked up the teaching there like a sponge.
I also came to appreciate the attributes of another student named Joan. I dated several girls at Biola, but when my eyes fell on Joan, I was captivated. I had never met anyone with the same measure of grace, beauty, quiet spirit, purity, godliness, and innocence. For some reason, she also seemed to see something in me. By the end of my four years at Biola, we were engaged to be married.
I was on my way to a great life, full of love for the Lord and excited about spending the rest of my days with my new wife, serving God, and spreading the message of Christ. The hopeless, drifting, self-destructive young man I’d been before was gone. I’d made a 180-degree turn. Now that I’d committed myself to Christ, I knew that my worries were over.
At least, that’s what I thought at the time. What I didn’t know was that down deep, in the hidden chambers of my heart, I was still very troubled. God took me on a very painful journey to my troubled heart.
Read on to see how God graciously revealed to me my troubled heart and how He brought healing and hope. I am confident He can do the same for you as you open your heart to Him – no matter how deeply your heart has been wounded.