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).
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.
When he looks at my rags, he sees his blameless son.
And yet a command.
An imperative. A must.
Not a movement, but a posture.
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