Happy Sunday,
“Guard your heart above all else, for it is the source of life.”
Proverbs 4:23
What do you want?
When Harry Potter* and Ron Weasley looked into the Mirror of Erised, they saw two different worlds. The orphaned Harry saw his late parents standing next to him, beaming. Ron, one of seven similar siblings, saw himself alone with badges of personal accomplishment and recognition.
This mirror doesn’t just reflect the person before it; it reveals their deepest desire. Its power is its objectivity. It’s uninterested in what you say you desire—revealing only what’s truly driving your life.
Jesus does something similar with his first words in the Gospel of John. He turns to two soon-to-be-disciples and asks: “What do you want?” Jesus goes straight for the Erised question, because he knows that human beings aren’t primarily thinking-things, but loving-things. Knowing what someone loves, wants, or desires is the strongest possible indicator of who they are and who they’re becoming. We follow our hearts, not our minds.
So here’s the question: what if we don’t know what we want?
It seems that everyone thinks (and says) that they want politically-neutral, fact-first news with no spin. But the most popular news networks are… uh… not that. We think we want just-the-facts news, but what we actually desire and love is already-interpreted-to-reinforce-our-beliefs news analysis.
If we don't know what we actually want, or refuse to admit it, then we will end up unaware of what we're following and become something we never intended to be. Oof. Contemplating this has forced me to recognize that my news habits aren’t just affecting what I’m aware of… they’re spiritual habits affecting who I’m becoming.
More on that next week.
Here’s your homework: sit with Jesus’s question. What do you want? And if you dare—what do you think you’d see if you looked into the Mirror of Erised?
What do you think?
Peter
*I know, I know… Harry Potter is a minefield! It’s capable of steaming both magic-fearing conservatives and transactivists. It’s only here because I think this scene is worth the minefield.
P.S. Our family has a strict rule about stuff entering our home: it has to be either obviously useful or undeniably beautiful. The Church History Handbook from the Holman Handbook Series earned its place on our coffee table because it’s both.
The maps, timelines, and bios are thorough enough to remind me what I loved most about seminary—and it’s beautiful enough to spark my six-year-old’s growing curiosity about the Kingdom of God. If you want a resource that’s a home run for your eyes and your mind, check out the full Holman Handbook Series.
Peter Nittler | Writer
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