Emptied

At the church where we attend, we have begun a series in the book of Ruth. In advance of the series, I began to read through this beautiful story of redemption and loyalty. But one phrase, spoken by Naomi, has repeatedly stood out to me. After leaving Israel due to a famine and then later returning after the loss of her husband and sons, Naomi says to her fellow villagers, Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara (“bitter”), for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me. Then these words: I went away full, and the Lord has brought me back empty. As I read through the story, and then again on Sunday as our pastor began the series, my mind and heart fixated on those words: I went away full…but returned empty.  In the mind of Naomi, this was the work of the Lord. Is it? Is this the sanctifying work of the Lord God by the Spirit of God?

 The late Dr. Larry Crabb used to speak of a “detach/attach” model of sanctification. There may not be a better story to illustrate this model than that of the rich young ruler. He had so much. He had what everyone is pursuing in life: money, power and youthfulness. To top it off, he was even deeply religious. But something was missing, as evidenced by his collapsed posture at the feet of Jesus. As Mark tells the story, he adds an intriguing detail in v21 of chapter 10: And Jesus, looking at him, loved him…. Doesn’t Jesus love everyone? We know the answer. So why then does Mark add this commentary to his story? Perhaps the act of love here is Jesus’s invitation to let go of something to which this young man is grasping in order to find life. This man, like all of us, is enslaved by something in this world that falsely promises life. Jesus sees into this man’s heart and then seeks to detach him from what has him in bondage in order to attach him to what gives a life true meaning. I wonder what God might see in my life, your life, that in his love he might invite us to let go of? And perhaps this is why Naomi's words penetrate my heart. What might I be full of that needs emptied out so that something better can replace it?

 Naomi would eventually hold a baby in her lap that would connect her to the Redemptive Story of God. It would be a child from whom Jesus would later come. It was also a child that would communicate the inclusive nature of God. Gentile and Jew alike would be invited into the redemptive work of God. But it first involved an emptying. Might this be what God does in all of our lives? Does he empty us of what we think is life, of how we think life should go, who we should be, at least in our minds, so that we can open-handedly receive what he wants to do that is part of his unfolding redemptive story?

 I think I should speak personally here, a bit shamefully I might add. The work of God presently in my life can be summed up like this: I am full of myself, but God is seeing to it that I return empty. No one wants to be described as “full of himself/herself.” But I am. Perhaps we all are. And for God to use us more fully, we most likely have to be emptied of ourselves. While it is a painful process, as it was for Naomi, and is for me, it becomes a life-giving one. We are quieted and perhaps a bit more open to receive what God might want to put in our laps so that we can help bring the kingdom of heaven to earth, as we are accustomed to praying.

One more interesting thought that I find hopeful, though at first glance it might be discouraging: Naomi would never know who this child would be or how he would fit into the grand scheme of things. You and I never know how our faithfulness amidst the angst of life might shape a person whose life might shape another’s down the line in ways that bring future redemption. All we can assume is that faithfulness, love and goodness somehow matter in ways we may never know. But perhaps in heaven, it will be revealed to us, causing us to marvel and fall to our knees in worship. That gives this process of being emptied great meaning.

 God be gentle and merciful, but have thine own way.