Better.

“…in the last few months, I’ve truly felt that whole beauty-for-ashes and joy-for-mourning exchange. In a way, I feel ‘me’ again. Changed, for sure. But me, nonetheless. And I guess more importantly, I have total trust in His plans again. And His intentions- that they are good…”

Recently, I found myself texting those words to a friend living on the other side of the globe. As soon as I hit “send,” it hit me: suffering does not last forever. The burden really does lift. Yes- grief, physical reactions to trauma, and real pain will still press against the heart, but they won’t always take your breath away.

God is generous. He is kind. His love endures forever. These are truths that stand the test of time and circumstance- even on the days when we cannot feel them. The glorious thing is that, no matter how deep the pain, the day will come again when you will feel these realities pierce your broken heart and make it whole again. The process may be long, your world may seem shattered longer than you’d like it to, but I promise there is an Architect working on your behalf- even though you cannot see.

If you are in the throes of loss or the tremors of turmoil: keep moving forward. Keep singing those songs that don’t sound true anymore because one day “It is well” and “Great are You, Lord” will be your testimony again. Keep reading those passages you believed so fervently years ago because in His presence there truly is fullness of joy. Keep serving and praying and trusting and giving. Even when your efforts feel worthless and your energy feels wasted on things seemingly void, keep doing the things you know to do because a better day is coming.

He has been faithful before. He will be again.

“The suffering won’t last forever. It won’t be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ – eternal and glorious plans they are! – will have you put together and on your feet for good.” 1 Peter 5:10 MSG.

 

Empty.

Parking lots at midnight, baseball stadiums in January, and church pews on Tuesday mornings- I’ve grown akin to the empty.

A few mornings ago, I poured some water into a cup, took what I thought would be a refreshing sip, and quickly learned the horror of newly-water-downed, day old coffee and cream. For the first time in maybe my entire life, I realized the significance of emptiness (and the dreadfulness of leaving old remnants behind.)

While drinking my daybreak water-coffee was no grave atrocity, ignoring the lesson in it could be so tragic. Often times, and I believe in correct standing, we place our focus on being filled. We put food in our bellies, knick-knacks in our homes, and entertainment in our time off. We strive for crowded sanctuaries in our churches and checked off boxes in our schedules. While none of these are “bad,” I fear they are mere distractions to keep us from addressing our hollowness- nothing but decorations on the walls of our barrenness.

Emptiness forces us to see our own bankruptcy. The poverty that binds the billionaire to the homeless and the renown evangelist to the newly saved – the fact that we have nothing apart from the Divine – can only be seen when we are destitute. Think of how easily direct-deposits hide the holes in our bank accounts. It’s not until the last days before the new pay period that we employ our resourcefulness and pray (beg) for grace and financial miracles. The emptiness of our accounts is what shows us the patterns of our spending and our need for better habits. When the accounts are continuously full, we disburse freely and, often, mindlessly. When they are continuously void, we reevaluate and look for areas to improve.

The same is true of our souls. While it is good to be “full” and brimming with life and the Spirit, times will come when we are not. And it is my opinion that the lack is also good.  It’s not until things are shaken and we have nothing left to give that we hand ourselves over to the desperate search to find Him wherever He may be found. Furthermore, to never know the bleakness that occurs without His replenishing touch would be to never know the gap between God and man. To never know the gap would be to never appreciate His bridging.

In the past few weeks, I have felt nothing but empty- void of strength, lacking in know-how, and depleted of desire. My inability to muster up some offering apart from my broken, tired heart has proven to me, again, His unfailing and distinctive love. He likes me when I’m damaged and He isn’t put off by the frame in need. Empty is hardly fun. But I am learning that it takes emptiness to give room for fullness.

When I feel inadequate for the day, or too weak to give what is asked of me, I remember that He is a God who fills the void and I need only to give Him the space to be who He says He is.