Emptiness and Fullness

Posted on Mon, Feb 20, 2012

Mel Williams

EMPTINESS AND FULLNESS 

Mark 9:2-9; Ephesians 3:14-17

A sermon by Mel Williams

Watts Street Baptist Church

February 19, 2012

 

Empty yourself completely and sit waiting, content with the grace of God, like the chick who tastes nothing and eats nothing but what his mother gives him. – Romuald’s Brief Rule (ON COVER + Eph. 3:14-17

Yesterday’s luncheon was a feast of friends and family! I am deeply grateful for the opportunity I’ve had to be your pastor for these almost 24 years. I send extravagant thanks for your love and for the goodness of the luncheon yesterday and the lively party two weeks ago. What a celebration! Jan joins me in sending our heartfelt gratitude. 

The luncheon gathering yesterday felt like being on a mountaintop with all of you; and that leads directly to our text for today—another mountaintop experience. Jesus goes for a walk with his disciples; and while he’s on that mountain, an amazing thing happens. It’s a shimmering moment, a revelation. There on the mountain the disciples see Jesus transfigured before them, and they also see Elijah and Moses talking to Jesus. They’re spellbound! In their euphoria they say, “Let’s build three booths and stay here.” They are filled up; they’re saying “It doesn’t get better than this.” After our recent celebrations, I think I know how they felt.

The disciples had a compelling religious experience. Their experience invites us to reflect on our spiritual search, and to explore where we are on our spiritual journey. What happened to the disciples on that mountain reminds me of Isaiah’s vision. “I saw the Lord high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.” Isaiah’s experience happened not on a mountain, but in church.

 

The intention of church, of worship, is that we come here to commune with God, to have a direct experience with God. But we may also fear what we want; we may distrust it. We may resist an experience of the holy. I’ve long wondered about the many different reasons we come to church—to please parents or grandparents, to socialize with interesting people, enjoy the music, spend an hour reflecting on your life. There are many reasons for coming here.

I suggest that we come here for this reason: to hang out with Jesus and Jesus’ people. You may not state it this way; but...think about it. Those first disciples were hanging out with Jesus, doing something ordinary, like going for a walk. When we hang out with Jesus, some remarkable things can happen. We are drawn to him. We study his life. We want his spirit to become our spirit. We want to align our energies with his energies—love, mercy, compassion. We want to be like Jesus. And after awhile, if we hang around with Jesus and his people long enough, we may see some people here who remind us of Jesus. At some point we may even be bold enough to sing: Lord, I want to be like Jesus, in-a my heart, in-a my heart…”

How do we become like Jesus? I have some clues, but first let me back up to get started. One of my hopes for the future of WSBC is that you continue to be a vital authentic, caring community; that compassion and mission will always be top priority; that worship and prayer will deepen at the center of this faith community; that you continue to grow as individuals, always open to being changed by the Gospel and the love and challenge that emerges in this community. You’ve heard me say it before: This place is humming now, humming with grace. I hope that you continue to be open to the amazing grace and goodness that is so evident in the life of this congregation.

Now—if these hopes for the future become reality, there is an inner process that must take place. We don’t control the future; we participate in God’s good future by cooperating with the flow of God’s spirit. The goal is to align our energy with God’s energy, our will with God’s will. That’s what Jesus did!

To be like Jesus, how do we do it? We have various spiritual practices that help us; but I submit that the primary place this inner transformation/ alignment, happens is at church— in worship, at the times when we open our hearts to the love of God, to the spirit of Jesus that abides here. 

Carlyle Marney tells of one of his last visits with his aged father. He decided to ask him about his faith journey. “Dad, I’ve had the impression that your faith has always been solid?” His dad said, “No, no, it’s been riddled with doubt and struggle.” Marney said, “I had the sense to ask him ‘When was your faith right.’” His elderly father paused and said, “When I could get to the meeting.”

We come to the meeting, we come to worship, to be realigned, to be renewed, to be re-connected to the life-giving energies that the Holy One sends.

We worship leaders, we who drive the worship bus, may have to find additional practices that invite rejuvenation. Over the past 16 years you have graciously supported me each year in my spiritual renewal at the monastery. What happens to me there is a kind of “annual spiritual,” akin to an annual physical. It’s a time to pay a visit on myself and see who’s at home. It’s a time to release the carbon deposits, weep over losses, and allow my spiritual system to breathe freely, to experience a re-alignment of my life with my True Self. That’s what worship/prayer/silence gives us. It’s a gift we cannot give ourselves. So we show up here. We too know that we’ll be alright if we can “get to the meeting.”

All of us need a re-alignment, a re-awakening of the spiritual force within us. This week we’re entering Lent, the season when we stay with Jesus in his dark time, his time of testing. We all go through our dark times, times when we may feel that we’re losing our way. We need to be attentive to that dark night of the soul, because that desert place can be a sign that our spiritual transmission needs repair. Like our cars, we may need to spend some time “in the shop.” Maybe our spiritual engine needs to be overhauled. So we come to church. We show up, like those disciples showing up on that walk up the mountain with Jesus. 

The goal for our individual lives and our life together is that we will be pumping on all cylinders. That’s always been one of my hopes for this church—that all our cylinders (worship, caring community, Christian education, and mission) are functioning at optimal levels. But we also need periodic repair, re-alignment. We need to be replenished, re-filled.

This is what Paul means when he says “that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.” I believe God wants all of us to function at our optimal level. I think this is what Jesus meant when he said, “I have come that you may have life, abundant life—fullness of life.”

But there are times when we feel more emptiness than fullness; there are times when we feel inadequate, incomplete, un-ready. Every week before coming out here to preach and lead worship, I go through these feelings. You may not see those feelings; much of it happens in my study, in my pacing, in my doubts and uncertainties. I’ve learned that we act our way into confidence; we act our way into courage; we act our way into receiving the fullness.

But we can’t have fullness without first knowing emptiness. There is a story about a university professor who came to a Zen master to ask him about Zen. Nan-in, the Zen master, served him tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. “It is over-full. No more will go in!” Nan-in said, “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I teach you Zen unless you first empty your cup.” (from Henri Nouwen, Out of Solitude, p. 42)

Here is the paradox. The more we can empty ourselves, the more we will be ready to receive fullness. The more we can let go of our worries, troubles, bothers, opinions, concerns, anxieties, the more space we make for the fullness. Brooks Booth has reminded me that we talked years ago of the image of putting our worries, our anxieties on an imaginary boat, and let them float off. Oh yes, they will come back; but we simply send the boat out again. Let it go. 

I heard someone say, “Love means letting go.” We love our children as they grow up, and then we have to let them go. We love our partner or spouse, but we don’t control them. We let them go so they can grow toward the sun in their own way.

We love our pastor, and this pastor loves you. But with the coming transition, we will let each other go. Of course, I will pray for you and send you energy for your well-being and the well-being of this congregation. As Henri Nouwen has taught, absence can bring a presence in a way that we didn’t know earlier. When Jesus left the disciples, he said, “I will send the Spirit to guide you.” And the spirit of Jesus is with us and his Spirit has continued with us through these thousands of years.

What about the fullness? Jesus said, “I have come that you may have life in abundance.” Not half-life, not mediocre life, not mere existence. But fullness of life. The earliest Christians prayed “Lord, make us truly alive.”

Annie Dillard says that grace is like holding your cup under a waterfall. In other words, extend your empty cup and see how a waterfall of grace will fill your cup. It’s a gift—this fullness. That’s why we need to show up here in a receiving mode. Empty yourself completely, and sit waiting, content with the grace of God. To receive we need an empty bucket.

But we may feel ambivalent about emptiness; it may scare us. In my bouts with emptiness, I’ve found that my emptiness can be a welcome reality. When my cup is empty, when my bucket is empty, there is more room, more space, for whatever goodness the Spirit is sending. 

Emptiness is really spaciousness. Gradually, as the filling happens, there is spontaneous gratitude. At various times, I have felt a rush of goodness, a rush of gratitude, and I’ve heard a voice saying, “You need a bigger bucket.” After the luncheon yesterday and the February 4 Fair Well party, I’ve felt filled up with grace and goodness. The giver is God, but you delivered the grace.

I may feel empty again after I leave here on March 4. It’s a process. We go through times of emptiness, releasing, letting go—but that emptiness is not a bad thing; it means that we’re creating spaciousness, being open to being filled. We’ve emptied to make more space for God’s grace to enter. 

I think this is the time for all of us to place our empty buckets under the waterfall. Thanks be to God for grace. And thanks be to God for each of you.

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