They sat with only an eggplant pizza between them. The ricotta formed soft mounds; the savory sauce, intermittent; the strips off eggplant, fried, but not beyond holding their flavor. The brunette cut into her slice and really tasted the first bite. She used to eat pizza without thinking, but things were different now.
It was a Lenten meal, but no food was held back. The rolls were drenched in olive oil and seasoning; the salad was crisp and well dressed; and the pizza, too large for two people, promised another meal yet to come.
It was the season of relinquishment, but what the brunette had given up was God.
She knew God as harsh disciplinarian, disapproving father, distant deity. And she needed to know a God she could get close to, so for Lent, she gave him up. She gave up her ideas about God and asked for God instead.
And with only a good meal separating them, the redhead was close enough to see: There was something different about the girl enjoying her slice.
She folded her arms on the table and leaned in, marveling, kind. “You’re so brave. I could never do what you’re doing without a safety net. I could never be alone.”
The brunette shook her head, not out of modesty, but in so intimately knowing the truth.
“I’m not brave. But I’m grateful. It’s in the emptiness I’m finding God.”
“How?” The redhead leaned closer, if only with her heart.
“Because when I cast aside my safety net, I had nothing else.”
She thought of her long walk to the mailbox. Of the lonely space she felt in those steps. Of her sadness. Of her shame. Of her fear. Of the God who spoke and dispelled it all with the words, “There is nothing between us.”
“I had nothing else, and it made space for God to come close. And in that emptiness, that loneliness, that darkness, I could finally hear God. And I heard that God loved me, exactly as I am.” The brunette savored her single slice of the gracious pie.
The redhead had earnestly forgotten her dinner. She picked up her fork and knife and began to cut in to her soft, warm roll.
It was Lent, and in the emptiness was space for drawing near. And God would provide the meal.
Love, love, love.
Thanks, Mom. <3
Beautiful. Of course God is in the spaces between.
Thanks, Micah. It’s amazing to see where God will show up.
‘exactly as I am’ – yes, yes, yes. And God does.
You help me believe it, Diana. xo
oh, this made my eyes brim. love to you and thanks for this gorgeous picture of satiety.
Oh, I love how you put that. Satiety, yes. Thank you, Suzannah.
Oh, friend. This is lovely. I had goosebumps toward the end. And you know what’s even more appropriate? I’m making the Cheddar Ale Soup recipe you passed along. It’s simmering on the stove and somehow I feel ever closer to you, in spite of the miles between us.
So perfect. Eating a late night bowl of it now. Communion. xo
Love it. Great blog post. The question is whether we can ever truly tune God out?
Thank you, Phil. I hope never to know.
I agree completely. Thanks again for the great post.
Been there. I’ll be there again. The edges.
And I would sit there beside you offering pizza and my hand, even if it looks more like a Google chat to everyone else. Love you, my friend.
“And I heard that God loved me, exactly as I am.”
Amen and amen. That is the gospel in one sentence, and it is amazing how hard it is for people to hear it. (Even for folks that thought they knew it for years already….)
So very, very glad that “the brunette” is hearing it.
It can be very hard to hear, to believe. But when we do– it changes everything. The brunette is very, very glad too.
I gave up Christian books and Bible studies for three months {not for Lent}. I HAD to. They were my safety nets. They were a quick-fix, how-to whenever I felt I wasn’t measuring up as a Christian. During this time, the one thing God keeps repeatedly telling me is that He loves me just as I am.
Amazing. I am so happy to know that’s what you’re hearing too.
So often it is tempting to fill the void, to keep that safety net in place. But it took my breath away to read & believe this: “There is nothing between us.”
Takes my breath away too.
It’s so risky removing the nets we put in place– we chance landing hard, getting hurt. But even then, we still have the opportunity to encounter the real God, so I have to think it’s worth the risk, every time.
I would love to hear more about that trip to the mailbox…Oh how we all need a trip like that <3.
There may just come a book about it some day.
Beautiful story and thoughts.
As alwaysm brilliantly said.
I think the safety nets, and even the best books and conferences and teachers and whatever else, can become idols, the “other gods before me”.
It’s not that he becomes angry and smites us, but simply that they get in the way, much like work, or sports, or a TV show, or seeing _Titanic_ 50 times in the theater, can come between us and our loved ones.
When we get rid of those, the voids we filled with them become obvious, and it’s hopefully easier to let the other in, to let love fill the holes.