Emptiness.
In God’s own form existed he,
and shared with God equality,
deemed nothing needed grasping.
Instead, poured out in emptiness,
a servant’s form did he possess,
a mortal man becoming.~ Philippians 2:6-7 isv
lent, 5 - shedding our fullness
I’m not a big fan of fasting.
I alluded to this last week with a slightly snarky tone. I mean, who wants to be intentionally hungry? Of all the time-honored spiritual practices throughout most spiritual traditions, fasting is the one I generally ignore without a twinge of regret. But this weekend I am fasting.
It has nothing to do with Lent per se. But this unusual choice for me was prompted by the overflow of Lent, which is anchored in prayerful self-reflection with an eye toward increased freedom. As it turns out, there were a couple situations this past week that flushed to the surface a pair of dead weights I have carried far too long, and it pains me to admit them. I have a recurring craving for external validation, “complemented” by an unhealthy sensitivity to perceived criticism. Can anyone relate, or am I the only one? It’s not a pretty combo.
Maybe you have discovered that, in God’s persistent love and care for us, God will allow the injured and injurious places in us to rise to our attention periodically… allowing us fresh opportunity to see them, feel their sting, and shed their pernicious influence. Sometimes this letting go is almost effortless—we see the malignancy of one of our coping mechanisms, say Yuck, and simply drop it. Easy peasy. And then there are other times when the self-sabotaging habit has really worked its roots down deep, when every time we try to drop it, it springs back up like a yo-yo.
This morning I sit here in my prayer room with what I can only describe as a profound emptiness in my belly. It is deeply uncomfortable, but not quite as panicky as yesterday. It’s quieter now, but the awareness is keen. I am empty. And the physical void is a more visceral reminder of my psychic emptiness than any intellectual encounter could be. It is embedded in my own being. Which brings me to genuine appreciation for the merits of this particular spiritual practice, even though I have not one iota more desire to fast. Fasting is humbling in the extreme.
So what is this week’s Lenten invitation to shed? Shed your fullness, your satiation, your muted senses. Mind you, I’m not asking you to fast; I’m just saying that fasting is what brought this lesson home to me with impact! Maybe there’s another way you can get in touch with how the over-abundance of pretty much everything in our western affluence dulls us, drugs us, and often renders us impotent for transformation.
Will this vivid resurrection of my validation - criticism propensity be enough to let it drop? Or will I remain attached to these injurious cycles? I don’t know, honestly, but I sense within myself a turning. The old unfortunately-encumbered word for this was repentance; if we can “shed” the shaming backstory to that word, the essence of it is sound. Turning. Awakening. Discovering. Letting go of the banana (see last week). It is nothing less than God’s greatest offer to us: Freedom!
finding your way home
What is “home”? Home is you resting fully in God and God resting fully in you. Home is your divine union lived out in the uniqueness of your soul, resurrected here and now.
How do we get there? We keep turning, we keep choosing freedom one day at a time. What will you choose today?
takeaway
It’s OK to be empty.