It was Christmas 2019 and we were in Orlando to celebrate with my family. Now, one thing you need to know before the story continues is that my family is one that makes a point to prolong the opening of gifts, and in turn, the joy and excitement of the morning. We all sit in a circle around the living room and watch as each person takes their turn opening a gift, one by one, round by round, until all gifts are opened. I absolutely love it.

As with all Christmases, we exchanged wishlists prior to, but this particular Christmas, I have to admit, my list was pretty vague, and I suppose, pretty unhelpful. I’m not entirely sure why; it’s not that I didn’t want anything in particular. For whatever reason, I just wasn’t being very specific.

Except for one particular item. I wanted one of those at-home electric back massagers. A friend recommended it, so I looked it up. It was reasonably priced, got great reviews, and I was convinced this was exactly what I needed. I sent a link directly to my family with high hopes for my perpetually tense back and shoulders.

So back to Christmas morning 2019. We were all gathered around the circle and were beginning to open our final gifts. My brother-in-law, Matt, unwrapped the one last present in his pile, and surprisingly, it was the exact electric back massager I’d asked for. “How nice that my parents thought he might enjoy one, too!” I thought. I looked down at my final present waiting to be unwrapped, similar in shape and size to the box Matt was holding. I looked over at Brad, and we exchanged confident, knowing nods. Surely, the final gift sitting at my feet was exactly what I’d asked for.

When it was my turn, I unwrapped that final gift, and you guessed it, it was a pair of boots. Cute boots, boots I wear all the time, but boots, and not the back massager I’d specifically asked for. I looked over at Brad again, and we both burst out laughing. We had been so sure, and so very wrong. It turns out, I didn’t get what I wanted; Matt did.

It’s a memory that continues to make us laugh, but I also think it’s a super lighthearted example of a difficult reality that is part of the human experience: not getting what we want. Especially when we are very clear and honest about what it is we desire. Not getting what we want can be a deeply painful experience. There is a valid fear that desire might betray us.

Desire can be a tricky thing that, of course, goes much deeper than a wishlist. We often assign it a negative connotation and equate it with the likes of lust, greed, gluttony, temptation, sin. Desires of the flesh, as they say. And as a result, we often believe we’re supposed to extinguish them altogether. Now, it’s true that some desires are not healthy, nor helpful, and need to be dealt with. But that doesn’t mean we need to toss out every single desire in our hearts.

Because I’m learning that desire runs deeper still. Desires are dreams and hopes. At their core, they are longings, longings for meaning and purpose, for wholeness and peace, for connection and fulfillment. Desire isn’t always wrong or bad and I’m learning it just might be worth paying attention to.

Yet, for many of us, it can be difficult to name what we want. To be honest about our deepest longings and desires. It’s a risk that requires a significant dose of vulnerability. And sometimes it seems the safer option is to let our desires lie hidden and dormant. Better to avoid the inevitable disappointment and heartache of unmet expectation and hope deferred. Better to live like our desires don’t matter at all.

Except, they do. Our desires matter to God. And it’s important to be honest about them.

There’s a familiar story in scripture about a blind man named Bartimaeus. And we read about his interaction with Jesus in Mark 10:46-52. In this passage, we read,

46 Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus (which means “son of Timaeus”), was sitting by the roadside begging. 47 When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

48 Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

49 Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”

So they called to the blind man, “Cheer up! On your feet! He’s calling you.” 50 Throwing his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.

51 “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asked him.

The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.”

52 “Go,” said Jesus, “your faith has healed you.” Immediately he received his sight and followed Jesus along the road.

What stands out to me in this interaction isn’t that Bartimaeus got what he wanted, but that he named what he wanted. Jesus invited and asked him to do just that. Twice in the passage, Bartimaeus asks Jesus to have mercy on him. But Jesus asks Bartimaeus to be more specific.

“What do you want me to do for you?” Surely Jesus already knew the answer. But he also knew there was power and significance and purpose in inviting Bartimaeus to be honest about his desire to be healed. To not beat around the bush, but to name it and say, this is my desire. This is what I want.

I wonder what your answer to that question might be. What do you want me to do for you? Deep down, what do you want?

Now, in discussing desire, it’s important to acknowledge a few things: that throughout scripture and in our actual lives, naming doesn’t always lead to receiving. Expressing our desires doesn’t magically make them come true. God is not a genie who exists to grant our every wish. And lack of fulfillment doesn’t necessarily mean lack of faith. So why do our desires matter?

Well, I certainly don’t have it all figured out. It’s something I wrestle with. But in my own life, I’m learning that there is still value in answering that question, “what do you want?” I’m learning that naming my desires leads to deeper intimacy with God. I’m learning to notice how my desires are shaping me and contributing to the person I’m becoming. I’m learning to discern when to hold on and when to let go. I’m learning how to be honest and vulnerable before God, and how to handle both an exciting yes and a difficult no. All with God’s help. Really, I’m learning that naming my desire helps me pay attention to it, noticing how it might be leading me closer to the heart of God.

One of my favorite stories is Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. The novel and the 1994 film adaptation will always have a hold on my heart, but I must admit that the 2019 film has become a fast favorite. The music, the cast, the cinematography, the creative delivery of the story - it’s all just so beautifully done.

And there is one scene in that particular movie that gets me every time; I mean, tears streaming down my face. It’s the scene where Beth is given the piano. If you’re unfamiliar with the plot and characters, Beth is the sister who is shy, timid, gentle, and soft-spoken. And she has a quiet love of music.

The family's wealthy and somewhat intimidating next door neighbor, Mr. Laurence, catches on to this and in a roundabout way, he invites Beth to come and play their grand piano anytime. After assuring her that no one will hear while she plays, Beth becomes a regular visitor and plays that piano nearly every day. Long story short, Mr. Laurence is so moved by Beth and her piano playing, that he eventually surprises her with a piano of her very own.

Beth comes home from visiting neighbors and is greeted by her three sisters, Meg, Jo, and Amy, along with a letter from Mr. Laurence. She is so moved by this gift, she can’t even read the letter. Actress Eliza Scanlen does a phenomenal job portraying the shock and gratitude Beth felt in that moment. Speechless and without thinking, she runs next door to thank Mr. Laurence and it is clear that, in paying attention to Beth’s desire, they both gained a friend.

I struggle to articulate exactly what it is about this part of the story and this scene in particular that so deeply resonates and moves me. But I think it’s the way Beth comes out of her shell and acknowledges her desire over time. At the prompting of Mr. Laurence, she begins to own it. She isn’t loud or presumptuous in her naming. But she does find a way to step outside her comfort zone. In her own quiet and vulnerable way, she names what she wants and leans into her desire. And in doing so, she settles in and becomes a little bit more like herself.

I think the same can be true for us. When we choose to lean into our desires and acknowledge what it is we want, we are better enabled to become the people God created us to be. When we name them, we can better consider if our desires are leading us closer to the heart of God as we seek to grow into and resemble the character of Christ in the world around us. Yes, naming what we want is risky; but naming what we want is also good.

Today, remember to do just that: name what you want. Be as specific as you’d like. It matters. In honesty and vulnerability, may we learn to trust God with our unfiltered desire as we seek to become the people God is calling us to be.