My smallness meets me nose to nose today and I discover, perhaps, just one of the reasons I hear him here.
I bring nothing to this table.
In this place, I show up. That’s all I have. I follow, and clumsily at that. I do not lead.
I bring nothing. I offer nothing. The morning goes on like it always does whether I make an appearance or not. No one looks to me.
It is — if perhaps I can say this way– it is the place where I come with empty hands.
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I’m not able to put my finger on why these words are so satisfying for my soul, Lyla. But they are. Deeply…
2012/02/12 at 9:57 PM
I wonder, Dave, if it has anything to do with how you understand the way we come to him — that you know it’s all him.
Sometimes we forget, and the relief of his reminder to drop what we’re holding and let him take us, well, that can be downright soothing.
2012/02/13 at 1:28 PM
“Nothing in my hands, I bring … simply to thy cross I cling.”
2012/02/12 at 10:06 PM
I love that hymn, Susan. Thanks for the perfect reminder. It’s hard to cling to the cross with my hands full of me.
2012/02/13 at 1:28 PM
showing up…
that leaves me with a lot to think about.
where the showing up happens.
2012/02/12 at 10:45 PM
Sometimes, that’s all there is to it, Nancy. Showing up.
2012/02/13 at 1:29 PM
Clicked over to read the rest. I know that feeling, the wearing of many hats and the serving. This bringing nothing to the table business, it does seem quite new. Maybe I should have paid better attention all those years I sang the words to the hymn Susan mentioned above.
2012/02/13 at 6:52 AM
I still wear all my hats, Nancy. And I think the church goes round because we’re willing to put them on. There is true joy in serving, as I know you well know.
But in this other place, where I come empty and leave full, I am reminded that while there is the joy in service, it’s not what makes me whole, not what makes me his. I can’t hold my double-handled bags up to him and say “Lookie what I did for you!”
My emptiness (dare I say uselessness?) in that becomes the means by which he reminds me that no matter what I’m doing and how he might choose to juice it for me, it’s still just all about him. I think I might have stopped making sense after about the first sentence. I hope something came through.
2012/02/13 at 1:32 PM
Yes, perfect sense. I guess I speak Lindquist. As our friend Bradley Moore would probably say, our worship isn’t either/or but both service and empty handed-ness. I’d just been a trifle one-side for far too long.
2012/02/13 at 3:37 PM
What you are describing is a huge part of why I am where I am, church-wise.
2012/02/13 at 9:16 AM
I can see why, Megan. Every time, I can see why.
2012/02/13 at 1:33 PM
Oh Lyla. I love this post. Standing alone in my own sanctuary this morning (the shower) I prayed the words of John Newton that so often go through my head:
Beggar poor at Mercy’s Door lies such a wretch as I. Thou knowest my need is grave indeed, Lord hear me when I cry.
Beggar poor…that’s what I am. I show up at the King’s table dressed in rags with not a thing to offer and He not only allows me to stay, but lets me sit next to Him and feast. What a God.
2012/02/13 at 10:10 AM
We’re beggar poor, yes! And yet, we stand there like Whimpy saying “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.”
I can’t pay it back, forward, up front.
I can’t pay. Why is it so hard to remember that there is great relief in it just being grace and not my resource?
2012/02/13 at 1:34 PM
Makes me think of Naomi – she came home to Bethlehem empty. She did nothing – Ruth did all the work. The last verses of Ruth bring the focus back to Naomi – “Naomi has a son”. God filled her emptiness.
2012/02/13 at 2:40 PM
Oh, wow, Nancy. That is perfect. Naomi came knowing she was empty, completely run through. And yet how richly he filled her.
2012/02/13 at 10:21 PM
Hmmm… I guess we’re both thinking, on this day, about what we do or don’t bring to the table — to the seat bought and reserved for us. For. Us!
2012/02/13 at 8:24 PM
You know, I’m not known for my potluck prowess. I’m usually the one bringing cold meat sandwiches and chips, assuring myself that kids love that stuff in the face of hot dishes lining the table.
But even then, I do still leave pretty full.
2012/02/13 at 10:24 PM
Hungry, I come to You
For I know You satisfy
I am empty but I know
Your love does not run dry.
So I wait for you…
2012/02/15 at 10:16 AM