Pour me out, Lord, empty me out, down to the last dregs.
Drink me up until all that is left of me is this hollow vessel.
And then fill me with Your living water…
…water turning into wine!
It is hard, being emptied out.
Like blood being wrung out of my flesh … that’s what it feels like, this being stripped of the sense of belonging. I am on the outer edge, so empty, so bloodless that I’ve become invisible to the rest of the tribe.
I am tribeless.
There is silence here in the solitary confinement of the outer edge. This empty space far away from the homestead fire, it’s too big for me. Too cold. Too airless.
But it is here – and only here – where I can be emptied out completely so YOU ALONE may fill me, Beloved. It is the way it needs to be. You have to separate me from all my human relationships if I am to find the truth of this, Your divine relationship with me.
This empty outer edge, this place of pouring out, is only this from the one side of the veil. From the other it is womb and welcoming, warm embrace. It is the holiness, the separating away so I may see You, hear You, feel You … become like You.
It is the pouring in.
On the one side of the veil, the pouring out. On the other, the pouring in. The same action, with two different effects, but just the one goal. To be filled with You, to overflow with YOU.
Emptying IS filling.