(Inspired by Ezekiel 36:26–27 “A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh. And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do them.”)
I have lived with a stone in my chest—
cold as an unlit altar,
heavy as yesterday’s vow.
It kept the songs from rising,
and the prayers from catching fire.
Then You came—
not with a hammer,
but with hands that knew beginnings.
You opened the ribbed door of my silence,
lifted the winter from its throne,
and placed within the vacancy
a heart that could be moved.
It woke like soil after rain,
like a field remembering spring.
Pulse met purpose;
breath learned Your name.
Your Spirit entered—
not a rumor but a river,
not a leash but a lifeline—
and the will I could not bend
leaned gladly toward Your light.
Now Your statutes are not fences
but footpaths through the morning;
Your judgments, not burdens,
but the music my steps keep time to.
What was command becomes desire;
what was duty, delight.
And if I falter,
You are wind in my branches,
sap in my veins,
the steadying hand that turns me
back to the narrow, living way.
I am no longer a quarry of grief,
but a garden under Your rain—
heart of flesh,
quickened to love what You love,
and to walk where You walk
until the last stone says amen.
If this poem stirred something in your heart, remember that the deepest roots grow from God’s Word itself. “Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee” (Psalm 119:11). If you’d like simple, practical help in tucking Scripture into memory…
👉 Sign up for the free FAST Crash Course in Bible Memorization: http://fast.st/cc/21419
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