There is an answer to prayer that is not the pretty little breeze of blessing; the beautiful conquering of some ill bred foe; the joy of a heart saved from self destruction. There is an answer which is ugly and grotesque, rank and flail-worthy; where screaming and kicking is the song and rhythm of your life. When you ask to have the heart of God: when you say you want to love more deeply than anything you have seen, to love the broken and downtrodden; side by side to the rich man; the pockets of whom are too swollen for him to know what it feels like to fall on his rump.
This answer comes in the complete destruction of oneself, the slow decay of every foundation and solid footing. The breaking of a man is one of the ugliest things I have ever seen in my life. Not to be hasty and judge the ugly things of no sure use, for they are. Before you build you have to lay waste, before you plant you have to plow.
It is a bitter thing to willingly subject oneself in a joining to the heart of God. Whoever says such a thing is a constant joy is a liar and a thief. The former for they cannot have the heart of God and not know the sorrow that is there, joy-yes-but sorrow also. The latter because such a damned fool is stealing truth from the hearts of honest people.
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