When we first bought our house, I could not stop thinking about what our life would be like inside those walls. I pictured a beautiful living room, curled up on a couch reading a book with my husband. I envisioned a happy, warm kitchen---one where I would
burn everything cook amazing meals and where all our friends would gather around a table, laughing and talking until the early hours of the morning. (Is anyone noticing a theme already? I have extremely ridiculous expectations). I imagined and coordinated every detail of our future home and anxiously awaited the day when I could make it a reality. I cut out pictures of furniture from magazines and pinned decorating ideas on Pinterest until I could pin no more. I had binders and notebooks full of everything from fabric swatches to paint chips to measurements of furniture I wanted to buy.
And then, when we moved in---reality hit. Couches weren't free. Chairs weren't cheap. A rug? That will be $2,000 please. Window treatments? Your first born child.
I remember walking around the house, staring at the bare walls, feeling overwhelmed as my footsteps echoed throughout the rooms. I was so uncomfortable with the emptiness of the place. And soon, I felt this intense desire and strong need to just start filling the place with
stuff.
And so, off I went to the stores grabbing up pillows, tables, chairs, and lamps just to fill the space. As I put them in their places in the rooms of our home, I felt a little better. This looks okay, I thought. The rooms weren't completely empty now. But over time, I realized: I don't genuinely like or love any of these things. These things aren't made to last. I had been so overwhelmed by the emptiness in our house and so hurried to fill it, that I completely missed what was important: the slow process and transformation of the space. Any designer will tell you that it's not about running to the store and buying up whatever you see in Restoration Hardware that season. It's about collecting and adding things gradually, finding pieces that tell a story, allowing your space to evolve and change. It's less about filling the empty rooms and more about allowing it all to come together over time.
It's funny that through trying to decorate our home, God has been teaching me about emptiness. As followers of Christ, there are still days of emptiness and confusion. There are days when we don't understand what God's plan is for our lives. There are days when we feel distant from Him. There are days when we are more selfish, more jaded, or more cynical than usual. And when we feel that distance, when we feel that separation from our Creator---we begin to feel a restlessness and we begin the search to fill that void.
On the days when I feel distant from the Lord, that empty space screams for self indulgence and selfish choices. It begs to be filled, it demands fleeting happiness. It temporarily distracts me from the distance I feel, the confusion, and the restlessness. But then, I realize that those things that I thought would fill me up, that I thought would cover up the bare walls in my heart---they're not made to last. They are temporary. They leave me emptier than before. Somehow, in the midst of trying to fill that space, I create a deeper void.
We so often become uncomfortable when we feel that emptiness. And truthfully, it's not uncommon to go through seasons where you feel isolated from God, where you wonder how or where He is working in your life. We panic, we worry, we wonder if it's normal. We keep it to ourselves and are ashamed that we're doubting His love for us, His plan for us, His promises to us. When we begin to feel that disconnect and when we begin to feel uncomfortable, we so often feel overwhelmed and run towards other things to distract ourselves. We hurry to fill the empty walls, the echoing rooms in our heart.
I'm reminded in Phillipians 1:6, "And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you, will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ". On the days we feel isolated, we have to cling to the promise that He
is completing a good work! When I become overwhelmed in those empty, lonely days---the days I feel distant from Jesus, I have a choice: I can trust that the Lord is working in me and seek Him in that process...or I can fill that emptiness with temporary happiness.
Our walk with Christ is a journey. It's a series of highs and lows. It's a process in which we are refined, restored, and redeemed by His love. It doesn't happen overnight. It is a lifelong process in which we collect stories, are taught lessons, and are transformed by His forgiveness and grace. And while sometimes the refining process is uncomfortable, I pray to cling to the hope of and the knowledge that Christ is completing a good work in me. He is working in my life, He is present in my life. He is filling up the empty places of my soul, He is restoring the brokenness every day. It is a process that will transform my heart.
My hope is that we will seek God in the midst of that emptiness. Even when He feels far away, when we're confused, when we're angry, hurt, or grieving. I pray that we will cling to His promise on days when we seek temporary happiness---He is completing a good work in us. He isn't promising that it's easy, that it's quick, or that it is always comfortable. He is promising that He is restoring and redeeming us...and it will be complete.
So, slow down. Stop rushing the process. Stop filling your heart with cheap thrills and fabricated joy. Take a deep breath and rest in the knowledge that even when we feel uncomfortable, distant, and isolated, He is working in us.
