The first ever heart transplant was on December 3, 1967. My father died from heart failure on July 9, 1967—six months too early for a new heart.

My father, however, would have been the first to say that he already had a new heart.

While my dad was in hospital recovering from a heart attack, my sisters and I turned our bedroom into a card factory that would have rivaled Hallmark. With an endless supply of construction paper, glue, tape and scissors, we created get-well cards for our dad. We cut out paper hearts, tore them in half, taped them back together with the cheery greeting, “Hope you’re on the mend.”

We made primitive versions of pop-up cards, gluing paper hearts to the end of “springs” we folded from the construction paper. “Spring back to health.” We drew pictures of the family dinner table with a big red arrow pointing to an empty chair: “Someone’s missing.” If we could have made a new heart for him, we would have from our craft supplies.

Last Wednesday, in my Women’s Bible Study small group, the discussion turned to hearts when we read Genesis 6:5, “The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” There isn't a lot of wiggle room in that verse about humankind's heart condition.

One of the women commented that a co-worker has a mug with the saying “Follow your heart” on it, and she remarked to her co-worker that she would never follow her heart. She explained that the Bible describes the heart at deceitful and desperately sick. (Jeremiah 17:9)

We joked about starting a home business designing mugs and t-shirts that proclaim, “Don’t follow your heart.”

There is good news for desperately sick and wayward hearts—Jesus came to cure the sick and call back the wayward. Think of it as a heart transplant, a heart transformation, a new heart that my father experienced long before his physical one gave out.

Yet even that new heart can experience heart failure, and sin. I can overthink the slightest hurt, and it simmers in my heart, threatening to boil over. My complaint list has more entries than a thanksgiving journal (which I have started and dropped more times than I can remember). Anxiety sometimes rules both day and night.

And when Jesus hears this? He says to me, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Mark 2:17)

Jesus wasn’t fooled by the self-righteous then, and he isn’t fooled by the self-righteous now. He knows my heart better than I do and beckons me not to look inward at myself, but outward to the wonder of the new only he gives. He calls me back to his grace in our lives. He says no, don’t follow your heart. I'm giving you a new one. As his chosen one, holy and beloved put on the new compassionate heart— kind, humble, meek, patient. A heart that forgives and holds up others. A thankful heart ruled by the peace of God.

When some sinners and the self-righteous see that kind of heart, they won't look up to me, but see and follow the One who gives out new hearts in exchange for old ones.