What Am I Allowing to Influence My Heart?

The Question Jezebel Left Me With

Sometimes I read Scripture looking for someone else.

The hero.

The villain.

The lesson.

This time, I found myself.

When I opened the story of Jezebel, I expected to read about a woman consumed by pride, power, and idolatry. I thought the lesson would be obvious: Don’t be like Jezebel. But somewhere between Elijah’s courage, Ahab’s compromise, and Jezebel’s relentless pursuit of control, God quietly interrupted my thoughts with a question I wasn’t prepared to answer. 

Thea…what are you allowing to influence your heart?

I wish I could say the answer came quickly. Instead, it unraveled me. Over the past few years, I’ve prayed for healing while watching my children battle sickle cell disease. I’ve prayed over finances that never seemed to stretch far enough. I’ve watched dreams stall, opportunities disappear, relationships disappoint, and doors I believed God opened suddenly close. Some days, disappointment became louder than hope. Fear became louder than faith. Waiting became louder than worship. I wasn’t bowing to an idol made of stone, but I realized something just as dangerous can happen inside the human heart. Sometimes we build invisible altars. An altar to fear. An altar to control. An altar to the opinions of other people. An altar to the belief that if God doesn’t answer the way I imagined, maybe He isn’t moving at all. No one sees those altars. But God does.

Jezebel introduced Israel to worshiping Baal. She filled the nation with voices that competed against the voice of God. As I read her story, I realized my own heart has competing voices too. Social media tells me I’m behind. Comparison tells me I’m not enough. My bank account whispers that I’ll never catch up. My failures tell me to stop trying. Old wounds tell me not to trust people. Past disappointments tempt me to expect the worst instead of believing God for the best. Every one of those voices asks for my agreement. Every one of them wants a seat at the table of my heart. Then I remembered something else from the story.

After Elijah experienced one of the greatest miracles recorded in Scripture, he received one threatening message from Jezebel and ran. That part has always puzzled me. How does a man who just called down fire from heaven become afraid of one person? Maybe because exhaustion has a way of making fear sound believable. I understand Elijah now. I’ve had seasons where one doctor’s appointment felt heavier than a hundred answered prayers. One unexpected bill made me forget God’s previous provision. One discouraging conversation overshadowed months of encouragement.

One setback convinced me nothing was changing. Fear has a way of magnifying itself when we’re tired. But I love what God did next. He didn’t lecture Elijah. He fed him. He let him sleep. He reminded him that His presence had never left. That speaks to me because sometimes I think growing spiritually means trying harder. God reminds me that sometimes it starts with resting deeper. As I continue building Radiant in Bloom, I’ve noticed this lesson showing up everywhere. What influences my heart eventually influences my work. If I create from anxiety, people will feel anxiety. If I create from striving, they’ll feel pressure. But if I create from a place of resting in Christ, maybe they’ll find permission to rest too. Maybe that’s why God keeps bringing me back to this question. Not because He’s condemning me. Because He’s protecting me. He knows whatever fills my heart will eventually overflow into my words, my parenting, my relationships, my art, my business, and every person I encounter.

So today, before I ask God to change my circumstances, I’m asking Him to search my heart. To expose every invisible altar. To tear down every lie I’ve unknowingly believed. To make His voice louder than every other voice competing for my attention. Maybe that’s the invitation hidden inside Jezebel’s story. It’s not simply to recognize evil when we see it. It’s to recognize what has quietly taken God’s place in our own hearts. Because we all become like what we continually worship.

And I want my life to reflect Jesus more than my fears.