The Shabbat Chronicles: Volume 9 (3/6/2017)
Written on March 6, 2017.
Without
Come all who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you without money; buy and eat. Yes, come buy wine and milk without money and without price. Isaiah 55:1
Come you who are without. An invitation that comes with a gulp, increased pulse and sweaty palms. Come without.
Can we do that, really? In days and digits where going to a party without a gift or a potluck without a dish seems seems despicable somehow. Isn’t it just easier to try to pull something out of our magic hat, push pieces together until what heavies our hands resembles whole?
For we must have it together, hold it together, keep it hanging by a thread mustn’t we?
Or we could just come. Without.
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was without, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. Genesis 1:1-2
‘Tohuw va bohuw’ is the phrase of Genesis 1:2. It precedes “let there be light”. It means, “formless and empty, vacant and empty, shapeless, absent of life. Not yet united as one.” Before Pappa became potter was this magnanimous moment. Before His choice to give it all away, all of Himself to us. Before we were entrusted.
Our Poet Potter, hovering over us, Himself hanging in the balance of the choices yet to be. The world was without and it was His delight to be right in the messy middle of the yet to come. He isn’t put off by empty, absent and not yet, for He is fond of finding and fashioning.
He is His most bold when there is barren. In sterile spaces He strung stars, positioned planets, sang the sun and molded the moon. In desolate deserts He tethered trees, forged flowers, breathed birds. He is vast in vacant.
He asks us to come. To draw near with no other source for our filling. For He can’t linger where idols loiter. Where chaos and clutter crowd. He’s much too substantial to be slimmed down to fit our boxes, lines and lists. He’s doesn’t shrink, He stretches. He doesn’t manifest to fit, but to full.
Come. Without. Any other source. And held in His hands you will find wine and milk. Banquet and bounty. Fellowship and fortune. For after He hovers, He dwells. He finds great pleasure in being within the need. He is not a temporary fix. He is a filler. He is not fickle. He is faithful.
When we come with hearts postured to stoop, He finds a threshold of welcome. And He has the courage to cross. He is the courage for every crossing. He pierces planting places in the unable, unlikely and untamed. There He cultivates, creates and consumes. He completes as we companion. Unifies as we unite. He marries as we merge.
Chronicles:
Journal about a piece of clay Pappa gave you that you may have tried to mold into your image instead of allowing it to reveal His. Share how you may have baked it in your will, hardening so it could not be changed by Him. Made “permanent” so he had to prove it instead of potter it.
Tabletop:
At your table, share with each other and idea, dream, creativity that is not yet formed. Pray for each other to be brave enough to let it be barren until each come to be filled for its coming.
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