Wicked? Oh Please.
Reclaiming Our Hearts from Shame and the Bad Ideas That Keep Us Small.
“The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?”
Jeremiah 17:9 has been weaponized so many times it probably makes Raytheon envious. [Formally fundie, I wielded this verse with practiced ease - defending the authority of scripture from pesky science and … feelings.] We're told the heart is deceitful, wicked, untrustworthy — and some folks, like me back in the day, stop there like that’s the whole story.
But
Just a few chapters later — same prophet, same scroll — we get this nugget:
“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” (Jer. 29:13)
Glory! [with a flurry of speaking in tongues] “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your .. Wait… what?!
Jerry just told us our hearts are straight-up liars, how exactly are we supposed to seek (let alone find) God with crappy lying hearts?
And don’t get me started on the Psalms:
"May he (God) grant you your heart’s desire …" (Psalm 20:4)
"Take delight in the Lord,and he will give you the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37:4)
[🎶 here a verse, there a verse, everywhere a verse, verse 🎶]
Either Jeremiah is having a bad day or is gifting us flaming bags of theological poop, or — and hear me out — maybe the heart isn’t the irremediable fraudster as is preached with the pulpit pounded for emphasis.
Yep, for sure, the heart can be messy. We've all had days we’re not proud of. Said things we’d wished we hadn’t. Made choices and acted poorly - inspired by fear, anger, or insecurity. That’s real. But our worst moments aren’t the sum total of who we are.
[Thank God!]
I’d wager you a shiny new quarter you’ve also loved well. Shown mercy. Extended kindness when no one was looking. Chosen justice when it cost you something. That goodness? That compassion? That had to come from somewhere, right? Here’s the deal, it all came from a heart that’s not just salvageable — it's sacred and chock-full of love potential.
See, many of us inherited a story — a shame-soaked narrative that starts with sin, insists there's nothing good in us, and slaps Jeremiah 17:9 on it like divine proof.
But what if that’s not where the story actually begins?
What if, instead, we rewind to Genesis 1?
You know — “very good.”
Original blessing. Original goodness.
What if, instead of viewing ourselves as broken beyond repair, we saw ourselves as unfinished — still growing, still maturing, still becoming in a universe that is doing likewise with more complexity, more beauty, more love?
What if what we call sin isn’t the starting point — a very real part of the story, sure — but certainly not the whole story?
Love is more original than sin.
And what if God isn’t holding our past against us but is actually inviting us, right here, right now, into our beautiful becoming?
The big idea is that God loves us — and has always loved us.This is not just comforting. It’s disruptive. It messes with the shame mantras we’ve internalized since forever.
You know the ones:
“You’re not enough.”
“God’s disappointed in you.”
“You need to clean yourself up before God can love you, let alone stand you.”
We’ve swallowed these lies, baptized them in Bible verses, and mutated our spiritual DNA as the wrong solution for the wrong problem — and wonder why it doesn’t work. Shame may get our short-term, cowering compliance — but it will never produce the fruit of the wide, wild expanse of love.
“Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change.”
-Brene Brown
Love helps us grow beyond our struggles — not by force, but by loving us into our truest human self. Into beauty. Towards more wholeness. God is not standing behind us with a ledger, a lecture, or a big stick. God is out ahead — luring us forward, coaxing us out of fear, selfishness, and small living — calling us into love, inspiring us into maturity, into freedom.
So no, I don’t buy the “your heart is deceitful above all things.” Sure, we all have our moments [some can be more like seasons].
But, please hear me …
Your heart isn’t a monster.
It’s a compass — one that might need some recalibrating now and again — but one that’s still pointing, however shakily, towards Love.
Sola Caritas,
𝞃Michael
Lovely, and beautifully reasoned!