Teaching Summary: Wholehearted: Undivided
Psalm 86:11, James 1:8, Revelation 2:2–5, Luke 9:23–24
The other night, Emilie and I were sitting on the couch when she glanced at my phone and gasped — I had 364 tabs open.
That cluttered screen is a perfect metaphor for how most of us live. We wake up each morning with dozens of mental tabs already open — to-do lists, worries, regrets, and what-ifs — and we wonder why we feel exhausted, anxious, and spiritually thin.
A few weeks ago, I was praying through a busy week — sermon prep, meetings, family things — and realized I wasn’t anxious because I had too much to do. I was anxious because my heart was in too many places. My body was in prayer, but my mind was in tomorrow’s meeting, and my emotions were still stuck in last week’s conversation.
I was physically present but spiritually scattered.
C.S. Lewis once wrote, “It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. The first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice… letting that other, larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in.”
How do we shove back the wild animals that rush at us the moment we wake up?
David gives us a clue in Psalm 86:11: “Teach me your way, Lord, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.”
Notice what he doesn’t pray. He doesn’t say, “Lord, make my life simpler.” He says, “Make my heart whole.”
That’s where wholeheartedness begins — not with fewer responsibilities, but with a heart gathered back together in God’s presence.
We live in a culture that rewards distraction. Busyness is a badge of honor; worth is measured by how full our calendars are. But beneath all that hurry is something deeper — a divided heart that’s forgotten how to be still.
Dallas Willard once said, “You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.” Why? Because hurry isn’t just a schedule problem — it’s a soul problem.
When our hearts are scattered, even prayer feels impossible. It’s like trying to have a meaningful conversation while texting someone under the table. You can’t be present to both.
In the movie Multiplicity, Michael Keaton plays a man so busy he clones himself to get everything done. But before long, the clones start making clones, and his life spins out of control. We don’t have clones but we live like we do, stretched thin across too many selves: our work self, home self, public self, church self.
We think, “If I can just get everything under control — my inbox, my house, my family — then I’ll finally have peace.” But the more we grasp for control, the less peace we have.
Our problem isn’t just divided attention — it’s divided affection.
James 1:8 says, “A double-minded person is unstable in all their ways.” The word “unstable” here means restless.
We see this restlessness everywhere: in the mom who loves her kids deeply but measures her worth by their success, in the young adult who wants to follow Jesus but is afraid of missing out on the life everyone else seems to be living, in the person who wants to trust God but still tries to control every outcome.
They’re not bad people — just torn between multiple loves.
Augustine said, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee.”
That’s why David prayed, “Teach me your way, Lord.” When we recognize our divided hearts, the solution isn’t to try harder — it’s to return to God.
In Revelation 2, Jesus commends the church at Ephesus for their good deeds, diligence, and perseverance — but says, “You have forsaken the love you had at first.” They were busy for God, but not close to God.
So how do we return? Jesus says, “Consider how far you have fallen! Repent and do the things you did at first.”
What did we do at first? We surrendered.
When we first came to Christ, we stopped trying to fix our lives and gave them to Him. That’s where wholeheartedness begins again — not with striving, but surrender.
Jesus said, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily.” (Luke 9:23)
Divided attention and affection are the fruit of striving. Wholeheartedness is the fruit of surrender.
David’s prayer isn’t a vow to do more — it’s an act of letting go: “Lord, my heart is divided. Teach me your way. Make my heart whole.”
Wholeheartedness doesn’t come by tightening your grip on life — it comes by loosening it.
The early church called prayer the practice of returning. Every time you return to love, to truth, to presence, your heart becomes a little less divided.
Where is your heart divided right now? Between faith and fear? Trust and control? Love and resentment?
Let your prayer this week be David’s prayer: “Give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.”
Not, “Lord, make my life easier,” but, “Lord, make my heart whole.”
Because Jesus offers us His undivided self — His whole body, His whole love — and He holds nothing back from us. All He asks is that we hold nothing back from Him.
