11 May To Be so Full

I love a good children’s story; I love the way it engages youth and adults in equal measure. Some of these stories will undoubtedly be considered classics for as long as books are read: The Chronicles of Narnia, The Hobbit, The Giver, even Dr. Seuss. 

My favorite children’s tale is a fantasy called The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle. It follows the journey of Schmendrick the Magician who is on a quest to help the world’s last free-roaming unicorn locate and rescue her kind from a powerful, evil creature that has driven the unicorns into the sea.

But Schmendrick is a poor companion for the last unicorn because he is only an amateur magician. At best, his efforts are ineffective; at worst, they just end up causing more trouble. His greatest wish is to be able to harness and use true Magic instead of relying on sleights of hand and petty tricks. On a few occasions, he gets little tastes of this power; but then it is gone and leaves him “more barren than he had been.”

Then, toward the end of the story, when Schmendrick is most vulnerable, when his enemy is closest, when he has no help whatsoever, either from his companions or his own abilities, the Magic overtakes him. It comes to him unbidden—not because of anything he says or does—and seizes him: “He did not believe it, but it came to him anyway . . . It spilled through his skin, sprang from his fingers and toes, welled up equally in his eyes and his hair and the hollows of his shoulders. There was too much to hold, too much ever to use; and still he found himself weeping with the pain of his impossible greed. He thought, or said, or sang, ‘I did not know that I was so empty, to be so full.’”

The first time I came to that last line, I read it over and over again. It resonated deeply with me, and as I thought about it more, I realized why: It reminds me so poignantly of the emptiness that is life without Christ and the fullness that is life in Him.

“. . . It reminds me so poignantly of the emptiness that is life without Christ and the fullness that is life in Him.”

All too often (every day, in fact), I return to what Hebrews 9 calls the “old system.” Under this system, the Israelites worked continuously to cover their sins, performing ceremonies and rituals to achieve physical purity before God. But this never brought them spiritual purity and their hearts never changed, so they kept falling into sin and kept having to sacrifice animals to cover their sins. This system was “an illustration pointing to the present time . . . physical regulations that were in effect only until a better system could be established” (9:9-10). In other words, it was just a taste of the ultimate sacrifice that was to come, and it left the Israelites empty and dissatisfied.

Even though I have “tasted and seen” the better system under Christ, I fall back on the old system. I act as though, if I follow some rules and try really hard and have good intentions, I can somehow achieve blamelessness and righteousness by my own efforts. But that kind of living is exhausting and futile. I spend so much energy trying to be good and I still sin—much to my arrogant dismay.

At last I come to the end of myself, realizing that I have nothing to offer (and never did), empty and aching to be filled. And Jesus fills me. He reminds me that what I’m working so hard to achieve—blamelessness and righteousness—He has already freely given me by His work on the Cross. He shows me the manifold ways in which He has released me from the power of sin and changed my heart to desire what He desires. He makes it plain to me that the new system is 100% about His sacrifice to remove my sin and has nothing to do with my performance.

When I reflect on this grace and let it sink in deep, how can I respond except with praise and gratitude, and obedience?

“He makes it plain to me that the new system is 100% about His sacrifice to remove my sin and has nothing to do with my performance.”

I don’t want to be like Schmendrick at the beginning of the story, bumbling in my own works, powerless, continually failing, empty and dissatisfied, and of no use to anyone. I want to be like Schmendrick at the end of the story, relying solely on the work Christ did for me, powerful in the Spirit, claiming victory over sin, full of Christ and the satisfaction that He brings, and useful in God’s hands to honor Him and bless others. I want to say with joy and thanksgiving, “I didn’t know I was so empty, to be so full!”

“The blood of goats and bulls and the ashes of a heifer sprinkled on those who are ceremonially unclean sanctify them so that they are outwardly clean. How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, 0r from useless rituals so that we may serve the living God!” —Hebrews 9:13-14 (NIV)