Empty Spaces
I am made of empty spaces. That’s what being human means. There is a certain longing, a certain loneliness that comes with existence on this earth.
I can’t even count the number of things and people that have filled my emptiness temporarily. That’s the other part of being human—we fill our voids with other human things. All those things, though, [[whether they were people or places or even books]] just ended up leaving me emptier than before. Chasms and canyons of loneliness and isolation. Empty spaces.
Here’s the thing about being a human: It’s all temporary. In the span of about 90 years [[on a pretty generous unofficial average, of course]], I’m going to love hundreds of people, go hundreds of places, read hundreds of books. And you know what’s scary? Not a single one of them is going to last. People leave; places change; books end.
If I rely on anything in this life to fulfill me—to complete me—I’m going to end up right where I started. A mess of broken pieces and empty spaces.
Looking at my life—which has been by absolutely no means difficult—I can pick out all the people I’ve loved who have made me feel complete. And I can pick out the exact moments where those people left me empty. Of course, I still love all those people very deeply, and that doesn’t detract from their value. Because, you see, it goes both ways. Everybody in my life who has loved me can tell you the exact moments when I let them down. Because we are broken people, and we love broken people. We disappoint, and we get disappointed. And somewhere along the line, we screw it all up and wonder why on earth someone else isn’t being perfect for us.
Which leads to a blatantly obvious dilemma. If I can’t be perfect for someone else, how in the world can I possibly expect that person to be perfect for me?
We’re all human, and we’re all made up of a lot more emptiness than fullness. And somehow we think that a bunch of empty people might be able to complete each other. We look for love in the wrong places; we collect pieces of other people’s hearts and leave them with pieces of ours. We convince ourselves that these other people are completing us, but we’re just temporarily filling a void.
If someone satisfies me for a while, it’s great—but what happens when they leave? The same emptiness with a different sting. It gets a little easier to handle as time passes. We learn to cope. We’re humans, so we adapt. It’s scary, though, knowing it’s a cycle. Knowing that fulfillment will come and go.
The scariest part, though, is this: You will not be completely full in this life. And no other person is going to fulfill without disappointing.
Because the kind of love and completeness we long for is Holy. The kind of deep desires we have to be accepted and loved and full can only be met in the arms of Christ.
I’m going to say that again for effect. And also because I’m in love with the concept. And also because I enjoy taking up extra space. We long for a love that is of another world. We long for the love of someone who understands us and would do anything for us. We long for Jesus—who has done exactly that.
I always thought I couldn’t wait to grow up, you know? I wanted to leave home, get a puppy, an apartment, and a job, and live happily ever after on TV dinners while watching one of my shows. Living the dream.
Now I look at the prospect of not even getting a job, but simply getting a degree, and I just want to go back to the time when my biggest decision in life was whether I wanted grapes or strawberries for lunch. [[Strawberries, by the way. Always.]]
So the thing is, everything that I was looking forward to in life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And all the things I thought were going to complete me and make my life so much better just end up making me feel emptier.
No one out there is going to be perfect for me. No job out there is going to make me feel complete. But there is One who already was perfect for me. One who already has offered to complete me.
Fulfillment is found in Christ. Completeness is found in Christ. I cannot be whole in this life because this life is not what I exist for. I exist for the next life. In this life, I have found that the only times I am full are when I am at peace in Christ.
I am made of empty spaces. So, so many of them. Too many to count.
And yet, somehow, I am overflowing with the love of Jesus.
Taste and see, because He is wholly, completely, eternally good, and He offers a feast that will make us so very full where we are so very empty.
I can’t even count the number of things and people that have filled my emptiness temporarily. That’s the other part of being human—we fill our voids with other human things. All those things, though, [[whether they were people or places or even books]] just ended up leaving me emptier than before. Chasms and canyons of loneliness and isolation. Empty spaces.
Here’s the thing about being a human: It’s all temporary. In the span of about 90 years [[on a pretty generous unofficial average, of course]], I’m going to love hundreds of people, go hundreds of places, read hundreds of books. And you know what’s scary? Not a single one of them is going to last. People leave; places change; books end.
If I rely on anything in this life to fulfill me—to complete me—I’m going to end up right where I started. A mess of broken pieces and empty spaces.
Looking at my life—which has been by absolutely no means difficult—I can pick out all the people I’ve loved who have made me feel complete. And I can pick out the exact moments where those people left me empty. Of course, I still love all those people very deeply, and that doesn’t detract from their value. Because, you see, it goes both ways. Everybody in my life who has loved me can tell you the exact moments when I let them down. Because we are broken people, and we love broken people. We disappoint, and we get disappointed. And somewhere along the line, we screw it all up and wonder why on earth someone else isn’t being perfect for us.
Which leads to a blatantly obvious dilemma. If I can’t be perfect for someone else, how in the world can I possibly expect that person to be perfect for me?
We’re all human, and we’re all made up of a lot more emptiness than fullness. And somehow we think that a bunch of empty people might be able to complete each other. We look for love in the wrong places; we collect pieces of other people’s hearts and leave them with pieces of ours. We convince ourselves that these other people are completing us, but we’re just temporarily filling a void.
If someone satisfies me for a while, it’s great—but what happens when they leave? The same emptiness with a different sting. It gets a little easier to handle as time passes. We learn to cope. We’re humans, so we adapt. It’s scary, though, knowing it’s a cycle. Knowing that fulfillment will come and go.
The scariest part, though, is this: You will not be completely full in this life. And no other person is going to fulfill without disappointing.
Because the kind of love and completeness we long for is Holy. The kind of deep desires we have to be accepted and loved and full can only be met in the arms of Christ.
I’m going to say that again for effect. And also because I’m in love with the concept. And also because I enjoy taking up extra space. We long for a love that is of another world. We long for the love of someone who understands us and would do anything for us. We long for Jesus—who has done exactly that.
I always thought I couldn’t wait to grow up, you know? I wanted to leave home, get a puppy, an apartment, and a job, and live happily ever after on TV dinners while watching one of my shows. Living the dream.
Now I look at the prospect of not even getting a job, but simply getting a degree, and I just want to go back to the time when my biggest decision in life was whether I wanted grapes or strawberries for lunch. [[Strawberries, by the way. Always.]]
So the thing is, everything that I was looking forward to in life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And all the things I thought were going to complete me and make my life so much better just end up making me feel emptier.
No one out there is going to be perfect for me. No job out there is going to make me feel complete. But there is One who already was perfect for me. One who already has offered to complete me.
Fulfillment is found in Christ. Completeness is found in Christ. I cannot be whole in this life because this life is not what I exist for. I exist for the next life. In this life, I have found that the only times I am full are when I am at peace in Christ.
I am made of empty spaces. So, so many of them. Too many to count.
And yet, somehow, I am overflowing with the love of Jesus.
Taste and see, because He is wholly, completely, eternally good, and He offers a feast that will make us so very full where we are so very empty.
Well said/written, my girl. You have a gift!👍
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