Only something empty can be filled…
Years ago, I was telling my friend, Amy, about my frustrations with my lack of spiritual growth, and my feeling of being “at my wit’s end” because I couldn’t figure out how else to reach out to God. I felt like I had cried, ranted, raved, pounded my fists against the bed, into the pillows, sobbed, and yet...
Silence.
Nothing but silence.
I didn’t understand why. Why? Why? What was I supposed to be learning through this state of being single? I prayed, “God, I know that you use all situations and make good come from them, so what is the universal “good thing” that I am supposed to be coming away with here? What is the lesson that I am so dense in getting? What do I need to realize?”
It’s not that I didn’t want to learn. I kept trying to rationalize with God, and compare myself to his “more slow” children – you know, those who weren’t even spending the time to be introspective and reflect on the state of their lives and the lessons they were to be picking up along the way.
“Look at me, God, Look at me!!! I’m trying to learn here! I’m asking the questions! I’m seeking your wisdom and wanting to learn this earth-rattling truth and so I can MOVE-ON….”
Amy suggested that maybe my head was so full of rationalizations, and “reflections” and “thoughts” and “feelings” and self-analysis, questions and hypothetical answers, that maybe God was trying to answer or communicate with me, but I was too “FULL”.
God couldn’t fill a vessel which was already full.
She reminded me that I needed to empty myself before God and give him some negative… blank….white space that He could slide into and occupy. It’s not that I was supposed to stop my journey – stop my thinking – stop my reflections – it’s just that when I approached the Lord, I needed to take a moment and empty myself before him. “Empty yourself”….
So easy to say, but what did it mean then, and what does it really mean today?
Well, here is what it has come to mean for me. I have to sit on my bed – or in my comfy chair, and light a fire – or a candle – and dim the lights – and say, “I want to be empty.” I have to force myself to be still. Try to think about nothing. No analysis. No comprehension. No making sense out of my experiences. No intelligence – no emotional IQ – no director-level professional – no daughter-of the decade, or sister of the century.
Just empty and quiet.
It’s only in doing this – and practicing to do this, that I’ve started to feel the smallest ounce of the presence of peace. To me this is God, trying to connect, trying to communicate with me.
Should I stop questioning? Stop analyzing? Stop trying to LEARN from this experience?
I have to believe that the answer to those questions is a resounding “NO.”
I MUST keep asking, seeking, and knocking. I just have to make sure that I also pause, and allow God the time to answer the door, or reply to my email, or pick up the phone. I have to begin to spend as much time in prayer - listening - as I spend in time analyzing, questioning, and talking to my therapist, coach, pastor, friends, or family.
Taking time is hard. Being "too-full-up" to hear God's still small voice is harder.
May you find a mouse-sized hole of space to begin listening, and expect to be filled.