I love the ending of Paul’s heartfelt prayer in Ephesians 3. What a beautiful image comes to mind of him praying that those around him would “be filled with all the fullness of God.” But, what does this really mean?  

When my daughters fill their water bottles each morning, their goal is for the water to reach the glass brim.  They want to use every bit of available space in the vessel to stock up on hydration for the day. However, achieving this exact level of fluid is nearly impossible, and, more often than not, water overflows and trickles down the sides.  

How incredible to think of God doing the same for us, His vessels, over and over again!  To believe that every microscopic cell within us can be filled by God and with God.  

When I observe the morning water bottle routine more closely, I catch a crucial first step: the emptying of the bottle from the day before. Without emptiness, there cannot be fullness. 

Are we like the water bottles, needing to be emptied before we can be filled?  

Maybe. 

But Thomas Merton wrote, “God touches us with a touch that is emptiness and empties us.” The kind of touch Merton describes makes me think of lightness, calmness, and refreshment. When I think of God emptying me, I recall the times I have felt wholly present in the moment, deeply connected to the Spirit, and free from selfish desire. There is a kind of abundance that accompanies divinely-inspired emptiness.  

I am left wondering if Merton’s words that seem so opposite from those of Paul, actually carry similar meanings. They both use every inch of space, require me to be the receiver, leave me wanting for nothing, free me from self-dependence, and move me closer to God.  

As much as I want there to be a step-by-step process to union with God, like the water bottle routine, this feels more like the God I know: Both emptiness and fullness are God’s vehicles, sometimes separately and sometimes together.