why i like the empty ones

They say you can tell a lot about a man by whether he sees “the jar” as half-empty or half-full. People ponder over this concept, trying to squeeze out a bit of depth from everyday life by determining how they personally perceive this abstract jar and its contents. But I hate thinking about a half-full, half-empty imaginary jar. I hate looking at life like that. “The jar” is just an analogy, right? So that means I, as a human being capable of original thought, have the prerogative to recreate the idea for myself if I so choose. Guess what? I so choose.

First of all, what is this jar’s symbolism? Is it time? Is it success? Is it life? I’ve decided that for me, it is my soul. It holds all the experiences, dreams, and desires that God has made mine. I can see my jar, but I cannot directly control how much it contains. My God is the chief force that changes how empty or how full my jar is, because He designed the jar in the first place, and is the sole proprietor. It may not seem fair that I cannot fill it as I please, since it is my jar. Even so, I have been given the responsibility to set my jar in good places where it can catch the splashes of godly overflow, and glean the dripping joy and wisdom off of people placed in my path. Sometimes I look around seeking this overflow, yet cannot find it on my own. It is then I remember that I can always run to the Constant Fountain to top me off with “streams of living water.” All I have to do is tell Him I am thirsty and hand over my jar. Not that I have to give Him permission! He just wants to see me surrender to Him what is already His.

Now that we have established and understood the foundations of our new soul-jar analogy, let’s take a peek back at the old, sad one. If “the jar” the world talks about is only filled up halfway, someone’s soul is missing out. To me, the halfway watermark in an unbeliever’s jar gives off a vibe of mediocrity, unfulfilled potential, and settling for the average. It could also mean the jar is leaking, letting life slowly drip away. Maybe the jar was carelessly knocked over and spilled due to ignorance of the treasure inside. I pity the people who blindly accept the half-full/half-empty jar. Do they know that they are destined for more than simply gawking at it, debating whether it’s half-empty or half-full? STOP just staring at the jar!! You can’t fill it up, but there is One who can.

The heartbreaking fact is that some of these people don’t even know they are thirsty. Some of them even want their jar to remain at the halfway point, because living an “okay” life is safer than one that is dry and dreary or too good to be true. Others see that they are not near as full as they could be, but they actually believe they can find water on their own. “Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights who does not change like shifting shadows.” (James 1:16-17).

Now that I’ve driven this whole concept way out of proportion, you very well know that I don’t like the mental image of half-empty/half-full jars. But I’m going to let you in on a secret about myself: I don’t like full jars either. According to our new analogy of the jar symbolizing a soul, it should be comforting and contenting to picture a jar full of life and living water, right?! As we all can testify, however, I’m a little kooky.

Even though I believe that jars simply brimming with life, love, and the pursuit of happiness signify a time of abundant blessing from God, full jars make my doubting heart fear what’s next. I trust that God’s plan is the only plan to trust, but that does not mean I trust His plan to be smooth sailing forever. If my jar is overflowing, it’s “as good as it’s gonna get” here on this earth. It can only get worse from there, and I know what “worse” feels like. And that’s why full jars scare me. I know it won’t be my turn to overflow for long, because God will soon have more to teach me by draining me back down to the lower levels. I may enjoy the euphoria of being full, but I won’t find hope there.

So where do I find hope?? The empty jars. When they are completely empty, the only thing left over is the hope of what is to come, of what is to fill them up. They are so bone-dry that no memory of joy or grief can survive. They can never be more empty; they can never be lower than this. They can only hope for God’s grace to drench them once again. To an empty jar, even one single, long-awaited drop of fresh life is a reawakening, a beautiful reason to rejoice. “O God, You are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” (Psalm 63:1). I love to witness how my own emptiness points to God’s glory as I celebrate that only Christ Jesus can ever fill me up.

Yeah. I definitely like the empty jars best.