Full cabinets, full closets, full schedule, full belly. Even a head full of thoughts and worries. If ever there was a word that characterized the past year, it would be “full.”
Full, but not satisfied.
Only in the quietness of this week — it began during last Sunday morning’s worship service, in fact — has the thought been dancing through my head. In this next year, this next season, perhaps what I need to do is pare down, unload, release.
As one year makes way for the next, I will be here, trying to empty myself.
Practically speaking, I would do well to start in the kitchen. The cabinets, the pantry, the freezer, even the drawers in the fridge are full of the scraps and snatches of all the holidays dishes I have been making over the last weeks. Extra boxes of noodles and bags of chocolate chips, half a package of corn tortillas and a nearly full carton of buttermilk all need to find a place in a dish or a pot over the next few days.
Or it will all go to waste.
I rescued half a can of pureed pumpkin from the clutches of the garbage can just last night. Apparently, I made something with pumpkin recently, and in my haste, the excess just went in the fridge. Filling it up along with the other leftovers. But as I emptied the fridge last night, I found a use for it: a delicious loaf of pumpkin bread.
It was ironic really. In the emptying, I became satisfied.
Each area of my life could use this same discipline. My closets are full of clothes I never wear. My shelves are full of books I never read. My life is full of activities I don’t enjoy.
And so I try to empty myself — cleaning out what is otherwise wasted. Clothes that don’t fit, books that don’t matter, activities for no purpose, television altogether.
Even my spiritual disciplines suffer from being too full. I try to read so many Bible chapters; I try to pray for so many people; I try to give to so many causes. Check. Check. Check. But in much, I miss out. I don’t sit long with Jesus; I don’t persevere with a few; I don’t invest deeply in one.
So even my disciplines must be emptied. I have started reading just a little of the Word, slowly, listening and contemplating. I have been asking Jesus who He wants me to pray for, to give to. I have been trying to become like him.
I read this very passage from Philippians 2 on Christmas Eve morning. My friend, Kelly, and her young sons, Alex and Jensen, were here. They had already patiently endured breakfast, knowing that there were gifts to open in the back bedroom. But the pancakes had chocolate chips in them, and I let them use the straws they like. And so they waited.
Then, we gathered around the Advent wreath. We were going to light the Christ candle, the one I have continued to light each evening, so I pulled out my well-worn copy of the Book of Common Prayer to find a passage to read, and there it was. The New Testament reading for Christmas Eve was that beautiful passage from Philippians. The passage in which the Son of Man empties himself, right there before God and man.
We talked about what it means to empty yourself that morning, to be humble. The boys tried to answer when I asked what they thought it meant. Jensen yelled out a series of likely answers to a question about Jesus. “Repentance? Forgiveness? Grace?” he tried in succession.
“Can I blow out the candles?” Alex asked.
And so we could just move on, I just said simply, “It’s like wanting to open your Christmas presents so badly, but you go ahead and wait, because that’s what Mommy asked you to do. It’s giving up your way, and doing it God’s way.”
That’s really what this emptying is about. It’s not about the stuff or the busyness. It’s about saying “no” to more and more of my way. It’s about no longer trying to make my life fulfilling with lots and lots.
And it’s about coming empty-handed to Jesus so He can fill me up.
Today, I am writing in community with Ann Voskamp and friends, sharing our name for the New Year. In case it wasn’t clear in the post above, my word for 2011 is “empty.” To read Ann’s thoughtful post or to see what others have written, click on the button above.
I am just now catching up to your posts. Wow. This is really good. Empty is often a condition — and rarely do we make it a verb
Charity, magnificent post! I’m the world’s worst when it comes to emptying in the physical realm. My house needs decluttering more than yours, I’ll bet:)
I appreciate your thoughts on reading less and contemplating more. This is where I find the Word to be most effective and fruitful in my own life. Perhaps the most important lesson I’ve learned through the years in to declutter my mind and focus on the one thing needed, as Mary did when she sat at the Master’s feet and learned of him.
Thank you for heartfelt and inspiring post.
Debra
http://debrasblogpureandsimple.blogspot.com
Hi
I followed over from Ann’s
Your word “empty” in all of its nuances – and it has so many – seems so right. The Christmas present analogy was sublime.
I would like you to know that I have prayed for this year of “empty” that Our Lord help you to say “no” to more and more of your own way, and that you remove so you can add.
My year is named the year of “connection” – moving inside circles instead of always staying outside, thinking of others, being with them, caring about them.
God Bless you and all of yours. Happy “Empty” New Year
Your thoughts resonate with me. Life is so fast, full. I’m treading water as fast as I can and it never seems enough.
Could it be that freedom really is in emptying not conquoring?
Choosing best over good and better, knowing what/who God intends me to invest 24 hours in. These are the things you make me think of tonight.
Ann — I like how you have described this world we live in – full-to-bursting. It make me thing of full-to-bursting in nature. Things like seed pods and over-ripe fruit. In the bursting, they empty themselves. But over time, what was emptied out grows into new life. I think you are on to something there. I hope that will be the result of my bursting and emptying.
TSS — You are right about missing the point. It’s amazing how much I have come to dread even “fun” because it comes on the heels of so many other “fun” things.
Ted – A silent retreat sounds intriguing, though I can understand how it would feel more like emptying than filling. The “work” of those types of disciplines is so different than our fast-paced, noisy culture has trained us for.
And I am going to carefully give away books. I was just remembering that the Rehab Hospital I once stayed at for intense physical therapy has a library. I think I’ll put together a bag of novels to take there this week. That will be a start.
As I read what you have emptied onto the page here, explaining your word for the year, I am nodding. It is a good way to live in this full-to-bursting world.
I couldn’t agree with your post more….so many areas of my life that could do with some healthy “emptying”. So much busyness sometimes makes us miss the poing, doesn’t it?
I like the notion of emptying one’s self and in the ways you speak of. Reminds me of the silent retreat I went on, a most miserable Saturday where it just seemed like I was experiencing an emptying only to experience just as significant a filling the day following. Good thoughts and reminders, Charity. Be careful though about getting rid of your books. Like me you may wish for some of them back later.