My keyboard is upstairs in the playroom. One day I dream of having a beautiful, upright piano in our living room. Right now though, I practice my keyboard in the playroom, surrounded by my kids’ toys. Honestly, most of the time I practice surrounded by my kids playing with their toys. If you have small children at home, I’m giving you a high five through the screen. We do what we gotta do.
A few weeks ago, I was practicing for a worship night at my church. We’re going through some big transitions at church, and in this time of uncertainty we’re prioritizing community and prayer. I was brushing up on some music, and trying to get my heart right before leading later that evening. I’m honored to be our church’s worship leader, and I don’t take my role lightly. I want the Lord to be glorified, and I want our congregation to feel seen and loved.
There I was fervent, focused and worshipful in my hybrid playroom/practice room when my kids came in with an altogether different agenda. My toddler started throwing toys down the stairs. I went over to stop him, leaving my coffee cup vulnerable in the process. The baby, of course, saw my mistake and made a beeline for the mug. I had just enough time to toss the toys back up the stairs, and sprint across the room to stop him from burning himself. Then, of course, both boys were deeply offended that I foiled their gravity experiment and dreams for caffeination respectively, and burst into tears. I went from prayerful practice, to wind sprints across the playroom, to quelling tantrums in 30 seconds flat. I collapsed on the floor, my head on my knees, and in a moment of honesty that surprised me and my boys, let out an exasperated, “God, I can’t do it today! I’m so empty!”
That one little interruption from my kids revealed the state of my heart. I was running on fumes. I was empty.
But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I heard the voice of The Shepherd say, “Okay, what do you need? I’ll fill you up.” The Lord met me where I was without an ounce of condemnation. Instead, he reminded me of his love and sufficiency. I didn’t need to muster energy, or fervor that I didn’t have. I just needed to come to the source of everything good and beautiful. In myself, I was empty. But I was in the presence of the one who freely gives more than I could ask or imagine.
“What do you need? I’ll fill you up.” I asked for peace, energy, and a renewed sense of purpose in my work. And you know what? My kids and I made it safely through the day, and God was glorified at my church’s worship night. That was enough of a win for me.
We’re all doing the best we can. We want to bring God’s light and hope into our spheres of influence. We want our workplaces, families and churches to be a place where God is glorified, and people feel seen, and loved. But what can we offer our places and our people, if we’re running on fumes?
If you’re there today, if you’re empty, the Lord wants to fill you. “What do you need?” he asks. “I’ll fill you up.” Do you need hope? Enough joy to make it through the day? Peace, even though your life feels like as messy as a hybrid playroom/practice room? Wherever you’re lacking, the Lord’s abundance is overflowing. He wants to fill you.
Elise
