The Part of Us God Keeps Asking For

Something is deeply wrong.

We’re watching it happen in real time.

Another pastor exposed. Another church covering up abuse. Another leader who preached Jesus but lived for control.

And every time, we’re shocked. We’re angry. We point fingers at that church, that denomination, that theology.

But what if the problem isn’t just “out there”?

What if it’s a warning about something we’ve all been missing?

The Problem Beneath the Problem

The greatest need we’ve overlooked is the heart.

Not programs. Not strategies. Not better theology or bigger budgets or more engaging worship.

The heart.

Our inner lives. Our character. Our affections, desires, and motivations. The deep place where life actually flows, or doesn’t.

We’ve been distracted. We’ve abandoned actual discipleship in our churches. And we’ve largely traded apprenticeship with Jesus for pastoral personalities.

We elevate leaders based on their gifting, their charisma, their ability to communicate or organize or inspire. We measure churches by attendance, engagement, and production value.

But we never ask the most important question: What is the condition of their heart?

Or ours?

What We Think Discipleship Is

When most Christians hear “discipleship,” here’s what comes to mind:

Join a small group.
Get your name on the membership roll.
Know the “right” theology.
Attend church consistently.
Tithe enough money.
Serve on a team.

Do the right things.

Check the boxes. Show up. Participate. Look the part.

And here’s what is truly heartbreaking:

We can do all the right things and totally miss it.

We can miss what God actually desires.

Jesus asked in Matthew 16:26: “What would it profit a man if he gained the whole world and yet lost his soul?”

The word there is psuche. It’s not just talking about salvation, though that applies. It’s talking about losing your soul life. Your inner self. Your heart.

Think about it.

We can gain the whole world. We can build the greatest stages, craft the most cutting-edge worship music, have the most dynamic small groups, get our pastor’s book on the bestseller list, have the newest hip pastor with quotable content for social media.

And it can mean nothing.

We can be a dutiful elder or deacon. Never missing a Sunday, tithing regularly, taking sermon notes, participating in serve days, knowing all the right answers.

And it can mean nothing.

We can do all the things on paper that seem right to a man and yet lose our souls. Lose our hearts. Lose our inner lives.

We could become the whitewashed tombs Jesus warned about. Looking clean on the outside while death reigns within.

What the Heart truly is

Let me be clear about what I’m talking about when I say “heart.”

I’m not just talking about emotions or feelings, though those are part of it.

The Hebrew word leb and the Greek kardia mean the center of your being. Your desires, motivations, affections, will. It’s where you make choices. Where you treasure things. Where life flows from.

Jesus said in Matthew 6:21: “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Your heart is what you actually love, actually want, actually orient your life around. Not what you say you love on Sundays.

It’s the difference between knowing the Bible and treasuring God.

It’s the difference between serving because you should and serving because you’re compelled by love.

It’s the difference between managing your behavior and being transformed from the inside out.

Your heart is the wellspring. And if the wellspring is poisoned, everything that flows from it will be toxic. No matter how impressive it looks on the outside.

Clean on the Outside

Here’s what we’ve done, often without realizing it:

We’ve traded sanctification for sanitization. 1

Sanitization is about looking clean on the outside. It’s about appearances. Performance. Doing the right things so people think well of you. Managing your image. Controlling the narrative.

Sanctification is a deep, abiding change by the Holy Spirit. An orientation from hearts of stone to hearts of flesh. A transformation from the inside out.

God doesn’t just want us to look holy. He wants us to be holy.

He doesn’t just want our behavior managed. He wants our hearts transformed.

He doesn’t just want us to know the right answers. He wants us to know Him intimately and have our lives transformed here and now. Not just someday in heaven.

This is the work we’ve been avoiding. The work that’s uncomfortable. The work that can’t be measured on a dashboard or celebrated in a Sunday service.

The slow, hidden, often painful work of letting God renovate our hearts.

The Judas Warning

This isn’t hypothetical. We have a clear warning in Scripture.

Judas literally walked with Jesus for three years.

Let that sink in for a moment.

He preached the Gospel. He was sent out with the Twelve. He likely performed miracles. Casting out demons, healing the sick. He saw more and did more in ministry than almost any Christian ever will. Prior to his betrayal and death, Judas Iscariot was literally a founding member of the Church of Jesus Christ.

He had front-row seats to the Son of God.

And yet.

He had a heart full of greed. A heart that treasured money more than the Messiah standing right in front of him.

He gave Jesus his time, his effort, his service.

He had Jesus’ teaching. He had Jesus’ presence. He had Jesus’ power working through him.

But he never had Jesus’ heart.

He never submitted it to a deep work of transformation.

This is the work that is often unseen, but it is the one that truly counts.

You can walk with Jesus and still lose your soul. You can do ministry in His name and still have a heart of stone. You can know all the right things and still treasure all the wrong things.

This should terrify us.

And it should drive us back to the most important question: What is the actual condition of my heart?

Rearranging Furniture on the Titanic

Let me be blunt about the stakes here.

If we don’t get the heart right, everything else becomes a performance. A costume. A whitewashed tomb.

We can build the biggest churches.

Preach the most powerful sermons.

Create the most engaging programs.

Mobilize thousands of volunteers.

Plant churches on every corner.

And produce nothing but empty religion.

Because everything flows from the heart.

If the heart is unchanged, everything else is just rearranging furniture on the Titanic.

This is why we keep seeing leaders fall. This is why abuse gets covered up. This is why narcissism and control hide behind spiritual language. This is why people can preach grace on Sunday and practice manipulation on Monday.

It’s not a theology problem alone, although that is significant. It’s a heart problem.

And no amount of better systems, accountability structures, or leadership training will fix a heart that has never been surrendered to Jesus.

The rot always starts at the root.

What God Actually Wants

So what does God want?

Proverbs 4:23 says it clearly:

“Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.”

Above all else.

Not your schedule. Not your productivity. Not your reputation. Not what people think of you.

Your heart.

Because everything flows from there.

Your ability to love. Your ability to discern truth. Your ability to hear God. Your ability to resist temptation. Your ability to endure suffering. Your ability to serve without burning out. Your ability to forgive. Your ability to be present.

All of it flows from the condition of your heart.

Jesus said it in Matthew 5:8: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”

Do we take that seriously?

Do we really want to see God? Not a fabrication based on our preferences or egos, but the real deal?

Because here’s the promise: the Pure in heart WILL see God.

Not “those who know the most theology.”

Not “those who serve the most.”

Not “those who attend the most services.”

Those whose hearts are pure.

And then there’s this stunning promise in Ezekiel 36:26:

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

This is what God wants to do.

Not behavior modification. Not image management. Not religious performance.

Heart transformation.

From the inside out.

From death to life.

From stone to flesh.

The Heart Jesus Has

Let me tell you what I’m hungering for.

A heart like Jesus.

I asked in prayer for God to give me some pictures of what the heart of Jesus looks like, and this is what I felt him say.

The heart of a dove.

The Spirit descended on Him like a dove at His baptism. Gentle, pure, full of peace. This is the heart that could be spit on, mocked, beaten, and still say, “Father, forgive them.”

I need this heart. So that when someone wounds me, my first instinct isn’t revenge but forgiveness. So that peace, not anxiety, is my default. So that I can enter conflict without having to have the last word.

The heart of an owl.

Wisdom that sees clearly in the darkness. When the Pharisees tried to trap Him, He saw through every scheme. When demons shrieked, He knew exactly who they were. He could discern the thoughts and intentions of hearts.

I need this heart. So that I can see deception even when it’s wrapped in Scripture. So that I’m not manipulated by leaders who use spiritual language to control. So that I can discern God’s voice from my own ego, the enemy’s whispers, or cultural noise.

The heart of a lion.

Strength, honor, unwavering courage. When He overturned tables in the temple, it wasn’t rage. It was righteous strength protecting what was sacred. When He set His face toward Jerusalem, knowing what awaited, He didn’t flinch because His face was set like a flint.

I need this heart. So that when truth costs me something, I don’t back down. So that I face hard conversations with courage instead of avoidance. So that I don’t compromise my integrity just to keep the peace or protect my reputation.

The heart of a lamb.

Led to slaughter, yet He didn’t open His mouth. The one who washed feet, touched lepers, welcomed children. The one who said, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life,” and then did exactly that.

I need this heart. So that I can serve without resentment. So that I can love people who can’t give me anything in return. So that I can lay down my life (my time, my comfort, my agenda) for others.

Jesus has this heart and so much more.

Gentle without being weak.
Wise without being cynical.
Strong without being violent.
Humble without being a doormat.

His heart embodies playfulness. The kind that welcomes children and celebrates at weddings.

His heart embodies scandalous generosity. Touching lepers, eating with sinners, forgiving the unforgivable.

And above all, His heart embodies beauty.

There are no words to describe Jesus and His heart that would do it justice, but that word seems most appropriate: beautiful.2

Jesus is truly beautiful and has the most beautiful heart ever known.

And here’s where hope starts to come in:

His heart is not just one to admire from a distance.

His heart is an open door.

His heart opens itself up to us:

“Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” (John 14:23)

The beautiful news (the gospel within the gospel) is this:

He is inviting us into a deep, intimate participation in His own heart.

Not just observing it. Not just admiring it from afar. But receiving it. Being transformed by it. Having our hearts become like His.

He is inviting us into the most radical transformation possible: a complete renovation of our inner lives. From the inside out. Not behavior modification, but heart regeneration. Not trying to be good, but receiving His goodness and letting it flow through us.

This new heart is ours in Christ. Right now. Not someday. Not in heaven only. Now.

What Heart Transformation Actually Looks Like

So what does this look like in real life?

What does it mean to have a transformed heart?

Here’s what I’m learning to look for in myself and others:

Someone who can admit when they’re wrong without defending themselves or making excuses.
Someone who forgives without keeping score, without conditions, without needing the other person to grovel and pay penance first.
Someone who serves without needing recognition, without resentment, without an agenda.
Someone whose first response to criticism is humility, not self-protection or counter-attack.
Someone who loves their enemies. Not just in theory during a Bible study, but in practice when it costs them something.
Someone who can sit with their own pain without medicating it, numbing it, or blaming everyone else for it.
Someone whose private life matches their public persona. What you see is what you get. No masks. No performance.
Someone who treasures God more than comfort, approval, security, or success.

This is the fruit of a transformed heart.

Not perfection. Not never struggling. But a fundamental orientation toward God, toward truth, toward love. Even when it’s hard.

Even when no one’s watching.

But Start With Yourself

Before I point the finger at failing leaders, I have to ask myself the hard questions.

What’s the condition of my own heart?

Because if I’m honest, I can do the exact same things those leaders did. Just on a smaller scale.

Control in my relationships. Pride in my knowledge. Performance for approval. Protecting my image. Holding grudges. Loving comfort more than obedience.

The crisis isn’t just in the pulpit. It’s in the pew. It’s in me.

And before I evaluate pastors or elders or spiritual leaders, before I ask “What’s his heart like?” I need to ask that question of myself.

If you’re evaluating a future pastor, yes, ask about his heart. Take away the stage, the platform, the money, the influence. Look at the heart. What is the true nature of him once you push past all the smoke and spiritual mirrors?

But honestly, before we even get to the failings of spiritual leaders in our midst, what about ourselves?

What about me?

If you took away everything I rely on or think is important and just looked at my heart naked, what would you find?

Let’s start there.

With cultivating a good heart. With learning to finally abide.

Abiding is not luxury theology. It’s not pie-in-the-sky sentimentality reserved for monks and mystics.

We must learn to cultivate good hearts through abiding. Because when we don’t (when we focus on platforms and influence and appearance instead) we end up becoming the whitewashed tombs we so often read about but never think will be us.

This IS Discipleship

So when I talk about discipleship, I’m not primarily talking about programs or classes or small groups or serve teams.

I’m talking about this:

Letting Jesus have your heart.

Letting Him into the places you’ve kept hidden. The places you’ve sanitized but never sanctified. The places where greed or pride or fear or control or lust or bitterness still live.

Letting Him transform you from the inside out.

Not just knowing about Jesus. Not just doing things for Jesus.

But becoming like Jesus in the deepest parts of who you are.

In your desires. In your motivations. In your automatic responses when life gets hard. In what you treasure when no one’s looking.

This is what the church has largely abandoned.

And the fruit of that abandonment is everywhere:

Leaders who preach grace but practice control and abuse.
Churches that look successful but produce shallow believers.
Christians who know their Bibles but don’t know how to love their next-door neighbor.
Ministries built on gifting but bankrupt in character.

We’ve been building on sand. And as the storms have come, they have revealed everything.

Can He Have Our Hearts?

So here’s what I’m asking you and myself:

Are we willing to let Jesus have our hearts?

Not just our Sundays or our service or our theology.

But the deep, hidden places. The places we’re ashamed of. The places we’re protecting and controlling.

Are we willing to let Him be the Gardener of our souls?

Because that’s what He wants to do.

He’s not interested in pruning your branches if He can’t touch your roots.

He’s not interested in cleaning your leaves if your soil is poisoned.

He wants to transform you from the ground up. From the inside out.

And until we let Him do that work (the slow, hidden, often painful work of renovating our hearts) nothing else will matter.

We’ll just keep building whitewashed tombs and wondering why they’re full of death.

The invitation is this:

Not “Get your life together first.”

Not “Clean yourself up and then come.”

“Just: “Let me have your heart.”

All of it. The broken parts. The protected parts. The parts you’re ashamed of. The parts you’ve been hiding even from yourself.

He’s not asking for perfection.

He’s asking for access.

And the beautiful promise is this: When you give Him your heart, He gives you His.

That’s the exchange. That’s what I’m learning to live into.

Not behavior modification. Heart transformation.

This is what we’ve been missing. This is what the church has largely abandoned but it’s where we must start.

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear about it. How have you sensed God transforming your heart? Leave a comment below. I read every one and would love to have a conversation.

1 I want to credit this to Samantha Welsby at Abide in Me Radio.

2 One of the best books that I’ve read on recovering the personality of Jesus is Beautiful Outlaw by John Eldredge.

The Heart of the Matter