"how emptiness sings..."

"I haven’t been asked yet
to walk the hard roads,
still there’s a sense
of deep loss in my soul.
In the middle of a party,
I’ll just want to go home.

But oh,
My bow is on the strings,
and I’m beginning to learn
where to find the words
to the song that emptiness sings..."

Christa Wells' recording of  "How Emptiness Sings" touches me on two levels. One is just the sound of the song -- it makes me want to wrap my arms around myself and weep. And then there are the words -- so full of self-compassion, understanding, and patience with our humanness.

One of my favorite contemporary Christian singer-songwriters - Sara Groves, posted that she was looking forward to the release of Christa Wells' new single "Velveteen." I'd forgotten all about Christa's music. So I went looking for her, and when I found "How Emptiness Sings," it was enough.

This week I've been steeped in the Easter story. From Jesus' foretelling of the crucifixion to his disciples, to Peter and John's race to the sepulcher.  His narrative has colored everything for me.

His acceptance of God's purpose and path for him is so humbling. I have had to ask myself, "Would you be able to walk into the arms of Judas and accept his kiss? Would you stand tall before Pilate and not plead your case? Would your last words be, "Father forgive them for they know not what they do."

No matter how many challenges I have faced in my life, I have not faced this level of self-surrender. I remember once calling the man who was my mentor is Christian Science healing. I was tired. I felt bombarded, misunderstood, maligned. I expected his sympathy. But what he said was, "Are your feet bleeding yet today?"

I knew exactly what he meant. He was referring to three passages from the writings of Mary Baker Eddy:

"Prayer means that we desire to walk and will walk in the light so far as we receive it, even though with bleeding footsteps, and that waiting patiently on the Lord, we will leave our real desires to be rewarded by Him."

"The God-inspired walk calmly on though it be with bleeding footprints, and in the hereafter they will reap what they now sow. The pampered hypocrite may have a flowery pathway here..."

"If impatient of the loving rebuke, the student must stop at the foot of the grand ascent, and there remain until suffering compels the downfall of his self-conceit. Then that student must struggle up, with bleeding footprints, to the God-crowned summit of unselfish and pure aims and affections."

That simple reminder was enough to still my self-pity and complaint.  The last path I wanted to pursue, was the one traveled by the pampered hypocrite.

I think of David, so good and pure as a boy. Yes, a wee arrogant and over-confident - but for good reason. His innocence has been his freedom from the jaws of the lion, the paw of the bear, and the terror of the Philistine. But as a man, he let his self-certainty undermine him. I can't help but wonder if his faltering footsteps didn't serve to teach him the words we turn to in our hours of darkness and despair.  What Christa calls:

"the words to the song
that emptiness sings..."

It has never been self-confidence that has served me in times when my feet were raw -- if not yet bleeding -- on this journey. It has been humility, self-surrender, and mercy that have brought me the deepest peace. Those moments of:

"Abba, Father,
take away this cup from me:
nevertheless not what I will,
but what thou wilt..."

and

"Help me, O Lord my God:
O save me according to thy mercy..."

Lately, I have found myself listening for the song that emptiness sings whispering in my heart. The song that I have yet to learn the words to, because I have not yet traveled this road.  But I am willing -- and I am ready.  I don't yet know what I will need, but I do know that if I am very, very quiet I will hear a new song.

So, if you see me leaving the party, sitting by myself with my eyes closed, or facing the emptiness and scanning the horizon -- it is because I know there is something out there. There is something asking me to go farther than I have ever been before. It's just a feeling -- but I've grown to trust them. Sometimes in the middle of the party, I just want to go home and be still. My bow is waiting on the strings -- the music will come. And then the words.


offered with Love,

Kate