Showing posts with label empty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label empty. Show all posts

Friday, November 9, 2018

...when I'm empty

O fill me with your fullness, Lord,
until my very heart o’erflow
in kindling thought and glowing word,
Your love to tell, Your praise to show.
---Frances R. Havergal, 1872

‘Service burn-out’ is a common complaint among those who serve in positions of leadership in the church, both clergy and laity. The formula of unlimited needs answered by limited resources can exhaust the heartiest of servants. A common cause of burn-out, I think, is seeking to serve ‘empty’. Often, those who serve never take the time to be filled, inspired, refreshed.

This text reminds me that our source for the good that we do is God’s goodness. We are reminded that we speak what God speaks to us, that we lead as we are led, that we teach what we are taught by the Spirit, that we serve the world out of the fullness of God’s grace in us. In our eagerness to pour out our lives for others, let us not forget to draw from the source of our fullness.


Stop us, God, when we are empty. Fill us, that we may minister out of the riches of your goodness.

Sunday, July 1, 2018

...something rushes in

Come away from rush and hurry to the stillness of God’s peace;
from our vain ambition’s worry, come to Christ to find release. Come away from noise and clamor, life’s demands and frenzied pace;
come to join the people gathered here to seek and find God’s grace.
---Marva J. Dawn, 1999

Horror vacui, “Nature abhors a vacuum”, was thought to have been postulated around 485 BC by Greek physicist-philosopher Parmenides. The theory, in my (very) laywoman’s terms, is that where nothing is, something will rush in to fill it up. Lots of things about physical science don’t make sense to me; this, I have no trouble with. Clear off the kitchen table…whoosh, two days later, the surface is covered with the flotsam and jetsam of daily life. Horror vacui, indeed.

I thought of this principle as I read Marva Dawn’s wonderful new hymn text. She addresses the call, tempting to us all at various times in our busy lives, to come away, to retreat, to leave behind. And the things she names as ‘retreat-worthy’ are indeed the things that wear us down and use us up. But our lives don’t need to be left vacant, empty spaces void of substance or meaning when we retreat from the stressors of everyday.

Dawn suggests that when we come away from rush and hurry we come toward the stillness of peace. When we retreat from the idea that we change the world by worrying we move forward to release through trust in Christ. And when we draw back for a time from the lures of this world, with its clamor, frenzy, and unending demands, we can step into the gathered family of faith, seeking grace in each other’s company and God’s presence.


Nature abhors a vacuum. So when we step away from what binds us, let us lean toward the fullness of faith.

Sunday, July 12, 2015

... the unfilled turning

Jesus, thou joy of loving hearts,
thou fount of life, thou light of all,
From the best bliss that earth imparts,
We turn unfilled to hear thy call.
---Latin hymn, 12th cent.


Meh. Whatevs. idc. Mom, I’m bored. There are lots of ways, old and new, to express our ‘doneness’ with what life has to offer. Now, at some points in history, this may have been understandable. But look --- today most of us have access to libraries with thousands of volumes (or e-readers with access to even more), cable or satellite TV with hundreds of channels, and internet access that opens virtual doors to the world (with all that can walk in through those doors). It is easier than ever, with cell phones and social media, to keep in touch with friends near and far away. There are, at any given point in time, literally 1.65 zillion things to do. And lots of them are exciting, fun, super-cool things.

So, why do so many of us feel so empty so much of the time?

It just may be that, even when it offers us its best, this world only has the stuff of life to give. And the hunger in our souls, deep down, can’t be sated with stuff; if needs life itself. St. Augustine, in his Confessions, wrote, “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in Thee.”


Even the best of the good life leaves us unfilled, seeking the abundance that hearing our call, and following, will bring.