“How Emptiness Sings”

On Saturday morning I went to a baby shower. She is expecting her third–a girl after two boys (sound familiar?). On Sunday afternoon Bri and I went to the wedding of one of my Bible study girls. It was a gorgeous day at a breathtaking setting by a river with an even more breathtaking bride and a beautiful love (and lots of fun seeing some former college students and dancing the evening away).

On Friday afternoon as I shopped for some sweet baby girl clothes for my friend, I found myself stifling sobs in the middle of the aisle at Once Upon a Child. I want to go back. I want to go to when I knew nothing of cancer and was reveling in baby girl pink and knew nothing of such profound suffering.

On Saturday night as I watched the groom dance with his mother, I buried my head in Bri’s shoulder and stifled more sobs. I want to go forward. I want to dance with my boys at their wedding, and the fear that I may not can be overpowering at times.

Then Satan creeps in with his lies. “See,” he whispers, “You don’t really love Jesus. If you loved Him, you’d be okay with going home to Him and leaving earth behind.” And I fight against this false narrative, this condemning voice that roars in my ears.

These are days of constant wrestling–of manic roller coasters of emotions. I am face to face with my mortality once again, and it is never an easy road to walk. While talking with a friend yesterday, I said something about my doubts, and she asked, “Is it doubt? Or is it fear?” And she nailed it. Honestly, my friends, I am not doubting God. I have no doubt that He is in this. I have no doubt that this is for my good and the good of my husband and children and parents and friends.

What I struggle with is fear. Fear that I’ve failed too many times. Fear that this will be the “one”, the cancer that takes me. Fear that I’ll not get to finish those photo albums or write that letter or say “I love you” enough.

Then there’s the fear of the process. The fear of going through treatment again, of the ugliness and baldness and the scars and the fevers and the pain. So much pain.

And then the frenetic live for every moment temptation comes in. I must grasp each moment with my loves just. in. case. But, y’all,that’s not really living. I will never be able to grasp every moment, and if I try I will exhaust myself in the process.

As I’ve read through the book of Ruth these past days in preparation for a new sermon series our church is beginning this week, I’ve been struck by the emptying of Naomi. She was completely emptied of all. All but God. (Although she thought she was emptied of Him, too.)

I am struggling with this emptiness. This grief. This loneliness (not a loneliness of lack of support, but rather of walking in places that only I can walk). This desperate longing for a feeling to know that He is in this still. But that is where truth comes in, and why I am so grateful that truth doesn’t rely on experience or feeling.

The truth is God is in this. The truth is I am walking a scary road, but He is walking with me. The truth is I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but He holds it. The truth is He will take care of my husband, my children, my family, my friends far better than I ever will or ever can. The truth is He will never leave me alone. The truth is I am not empty… no I am full to overflowing with blessings and grace upon grace.

He is singing the tune of my life and the melody is His glory.

One of my favorite Christa Wells songs is called “How Emptiness Sings”. I’ve had it on repeat today… and I’ve linked it below so you can be blessed, too.

Oh, my friends, it is the longing of my heart–may my emptiness sing of the glory of God.

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.

(I would recommend listening without watching the video… I find the images rather distracting from the song. *grin*)

4 responses to ““How Emptiness Sings””

  1. Yes! Yes, Angie. It is so good to “hear” these words from you. To be able to be honest about the suffering and pain and fear, as well as the glorious Truth…then lay them together…this is so good. Good for you. Good for others because you share. God is glorified.


  2. This post reminds me of the experiences I had on my retreat this past summer – of learning that even in our worst suffering, we are never truly forsaken or alone. That in our suffering, in our moments on the cross, He is with us because He was on that cross.

    Sometimes it is all we can do to say those words “He is with me” and we have to will ourselves to believe them, saying them only out of desperation rather than belief, but the fact that we want to believe matters.

    He is with you – in the waiting, in the fear, in all of it. As you sit in the garden, echoing the words “take this cup from me” and “Thy will be done” – He sits with you.

    Much love and prayer my friend! I will be praying this prayer, asking St. Peregrine to intercede for you http://www.ewtn.com/devotionals/novena/peregrine.htm


  3. After hearing my story recently someone said to me, “Sometimes all we can do is sit alongside in the ash heap.” Words fail me, but I want you to know. I’m sitting with you in the ash heap and praying. I love you precious friend!


  4. My dear Angie,

    Growing up in the grace of God, and knowing that we will go through many tribulations before we enter the Kingdom of God. is truly a path that has been ordained for us, a path that we have no control of, but one that has been directed by God and He is ordering our steps. His word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path. We find our battle that we have is to fight being transformed by the renewing of our mind. Thinking on things that are honest, trustworthy and of good report. We slump down in despair thinking of a solution to win over ourselves and the power to do this does not lie in our own strength but in His. May HE , the God of hope fill us with joy and peace in believing that we will dwell in hope and this hope does not disappoint us for the love of God has been poured in our hearts through the Holy Spirit.

    Love and blessings my precious one,


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