Be filled

Be filled.

It is a passive command.  (Ephesians 5:18)

Strange to our modern American ears.

Rubbing us the wrong way, even.

It’s not fill yourself.

Or even get filled (which implies, at least, maneuvering oneself into a place where it can happen).

But be.

Be filled.

It’s not an action so much as a way of being acted upon.

I don’t like being acted upon.

I don’t know many people who do.

But this is the upside-down, backwards way of the humble king.

This is the way of the one who tells us that the last will be first.

It’s all different here.

So much paradox.

I want to act.  To work and strive.

He wants me to be filled.

I want to boast about my accomplishments.

He reminds me that apart from him I can do nothing.


I want to dress myself up all presentable.  To make a case for myself.

He tells me that my righteousness is like filthy rags.

Rags, people.

And yet

When he looks at my rags, he sees his blameless son.

Dearly loved.

Be filled.


And yet a command.

An imperative.  A must.

Be filled.

Not a movement, but a posture.

An openness.

And so, again, I loosen the death-grip I have on it all.

The ferocity with which I cling to what I claim as mine.

And, again, I ask to


Be filled.

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