Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Emptiness Transformed: Lenten Walk Days 36-37

As I fold little shirts and matching little socks, I feel a big hole in my heart. I could feel the wind of my daughter's laughter as she plays blow through me, the conversation that my husband shares blow through me. I don't feel good. I thought letting go felt good, relieving, but I feel worse. I feel vacant.

The last two days I've been contemplating on my last post and if I was even ready to touch on that subject with you. It felt so easy to tell. It wasn't a weight on my shoulders since it had become such a part of who I was.

As I hit the publish button, I felt anxiety, my stomach churning and my heart racing. I was about to let go of something that I thought I truly owned. It was my crutch. I leaned on it even though I knew what it meant to me.

I guess we all find ourselves holding on to that bad memory from the past, thinking it will give us control over what happens in our lives next. It is the lesson plan we go to when we face a familiar setting. I wonder if Satan himself helps us to nurture that thought process, eventually making us deem it very valuable.

My own little painful event.

How sadistic.

But now that I've taken that memory off of me, I feel very empty. I feel useless, without substance and that empty feeling of all feelings, the "Now what?" feeling hanging in my air.

And it's this emptiness that I am so scared of feeling through. It is this emptiness we all try to avoid, don't we? How many turns do we make on the road of life so that we can steer clear of the dark forest of emptiness only to end up exactly there every time.

So I'm being emptied of all the substance that I considered my makeup. I think of Jesus and when they strip Him of His garments, exposing all the scars. I think of how human He must have felt at that moment as everyone watched His openness. His emptiness.

Yet, this is how He needed to go. Empty, without earth, without clothes, without opinions, without assumptions, without substance. An empty vessel.

An empty vessel.

To become the best wine...

to be resurrected.

He needed to be emptied to be filled with something better.

Emptied of our sins. Blood and water released from His vessel to make room for the glory of God.

But before that Jesus suffered, that suffering that empties our soul of useless junk, grimy pain, and mildewed tears. That cesspool in the soul which needs to be cleaned out, to make room for something better. But the process hurts. It's stings, it hangs my head in shame, it makes me cry, it almost makes me run the opposite direction, to the place I thought was "safe."

Yet, in the darkness I know He's there, waiting for me. For the first time in my life, I know Jesus is in the dark as well as the light. He's not there to condemn me. He's there to light the way out.

With each step, despite my immense fear, I'm giving thanks, I'm keeping log. I know I too can be transformed into something useful for Him, someone with real substance.

Why did it took so long for me to get here? Only He knows, but as empty and sad as I feel right now, I know this is where I need to be. I pray, if you too are at a similar place, that you trust Him, give Him this moment. Give yourself over to God and let Him live this with You...

and pray.

God bless!

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