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Monday, November 22, 2010

On being filled.

What is the meaning of being filled?

It is not the nod of the interviewer:
"Good question, good answer!"
It is not the bold small print
of the A and the 4.0
It is not the feel-good, do-good
of giving your time away
It is not the triumph
in exceeding expectations

It is not a boy's smile
or indulgent appreciative laughter
It is not the reward of human interaction
through the meaningful conversations
It is not the thrill of the words
"I feel the same"
It is not the building excitement
of a new acquaintance made

It is not the brother's hug
or the mother's gift
It is not a friend's confidence
or the thoughtful rememberings
It is not the torrents of rain
washing the muck downhill
It is not the rise and fall
of an all-encompassing melody


It is the emptying of the hurt and the slavery and the filth and the selfishness
It is about becoming hollow.
It is the cracking and the breaking and the shattering and the smashing
It is destruction.
It is the water and the washing and the flooding and the torrent
It is drowning.
In a love so unlike love that the foreign is familiar
It is the meaning of being filled.

How deep the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure, that He should give His only Son, to make a wretch His treasure.

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