“You have granted him his heart’s desire.”

These are words that bring me joy, O Lord! I know that that is your work, your name, your very essence: You are the one who fulfils the desires of the human heart. You have made that heart, and you alone can satisfy it. What is now consoling for me is to know that you in fact do it.

“You have granted him his heart’s desire.”

In granting it to “him” you are telling me that you are ready to grant me too my heart’s desire. What you do for the king of Israel you do for your people, and what you do for your people you do for me. If you grant the king of Israel the victory he desires, you will also grant me what my heart truly desires.

This sets me thinking in the earnestness of your presence: What, in truth, is my heart’s desire? Which are the victories I truly want? Now that I see you ready to grant my desires, I want to search my heart and let the core of my being appear before you, that you may see my genuine longing and grant it in your bounty.

And when I do that I feel the shock of shame vibrate through my body. I look at my desires… and I find them so petty! How could I ask for them now in earnest before you? I want a cheap success, a cowardly escape, a personal gratification. I want security and comfort and respectability. Can I call that ”my heart’s desire” and place it before you as you lift your hand in gracious bestowal? Oh, no. I cannot do that; I keep my shame and delve deeper into my heart.

As I delve deeper into my heart I am in for another shock. I am formulating now “deeper” desires… and I realise that they are only formal, official, academic. I am asking for “your greater glory”, “the liberation of the poor”, “the welfare of humankind”, “the coming of the Kingdom”. All that is true and beautiful and necessary…, but these words are not mine, those expressions are borrowed; those desires are certainly mine, but only so in as much as they are everybody else’s. I understand that for “my heart’s desire” you expect and mean something personal, concrete, intimate. Something from me to you, from my heart to your Heart; something in mutual love, sincerity and trust. I want to search deeper still.

And now for a moment I feel happy. I have suddenly told you with a show of humility and a sense of relief at having found the perfect answer: Lord, I leave it to you. You know what is best for me, you love me and want my happiness, and I trust in you and in your wisdom, and so what you want for me is what I want for myself. That is my heart’s desire. Grant it, and that will make me happy.

Nice words. But hollow. Neat escape. Plain shirking of my responsibility. You have asked me what I want, and I, in cowardly compliment, return the question to you and place on you the burden of the choice. I am covering the shame of my indecision with the gesture of my surrender. Forgive me, Lord, I have not yet found my heart’s desire.

While I search, I will ask for a grace, as you are still waiting: Give me the grace to know what I really want. This is now my heart’s desire.

Or could it be, perhaps, that the true and final and definitive desire of my heart would be to have no desire?