◆
“The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.”
—Genesis 1:2
◆
I don’t know what your teenage years were like, but I imagine they were . . . uncomfortable. Mine certainly were. Those years brought a barrage of change and growth, and where there is growth, there are gaps. Gaps of all kinds. These gaps formed a void in me, a space that is beyond my ability to fill or subdue.
“The void you discover one day in your teens—nothing can ever undo that discovery.” (Marguerite Duras)
My oldest son Asher is fourteen, and he’s becoming aware of what Duras calls “the void.” His life is less simple and more dangerous than his childhood led him to believe. He’s navigating desires and disappointments he doesn’t fully understand and questions he doesn’t like.
As I journey with Asher, working through the disorientation, I’m gaining fresh perspective into my own stretching, my own void. Conversations about surrender and faith have led me to realize that with each stretch of my being, new space is created within the ever-expanding “me”—space that must be searched out and surrendered. Maybe that’s why both Jesus and Paul told us to die daily (Luke 9:23–24, 1 Cor. 15:31)?
Response
The Accuser (Satan) doesn’t want you to discover what’s on the other side of courageous surrender. He’d rather we fill the void with sex, stuff, and status, so he uses the chaos within to tease, tempt, and torment us. He wants us anxious and afraid.
And the void does indeed cause us to fear.
But who or what should we fear?
We can either fear the void and do whatever we can in our own sufficiency to master, fill, or avoid it, or we can fear the God who hovers over the chaos, the One who coaxes life and beauty from its dark waters, trusting Him and His process.
Prayer is the pathway into and through the void. It’s also our source of power and promise, calming our minds and hearts, releasing us from anxiety’s grip. The void is dark and mysterious, for it represents every undiscovered part of us, but prayer is the light that reveals what’s always been true, truth that remains hidden until we are ready to receive it as a gift.
Deep calls to deep
at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves
have gone over me. (Psalm 42:7)
Closing Thoughts
You and I are greater than what we can name ourselves, and that can feel terrifying. We are, after all, forged for an eternal purpose that’s beyond our grasp, fearfully wonderful in ways our pride could never articulate. These are intimate truths, truths that the Spirit alone can unveil.
When I reach the end of myself and life feels out of control, I often pray, “You are God. I am not.” Sometimes those words come with tears, and they’re nothing more than a whisper. Other times I scream them in defiance. Either way, in time, they do their work, lifting my eyes upward and lighting my path forward.
Praying with you,
Addison
P.S. If you don’t have the Words with God book yet, I want to encourage you to read it as we move into and through Easter. Just to click here to get yours.
