“But with Jesus, the suffering can be turned into purpose, growth, achievement, victory. Because of Jesus, all empty tummies will become full.”
Yesterday I watched a toddler pat his mother’s pregnant, swollen belly and say, “Oh Mama, your tummy is sooo full!” Mama blushed, obviously a little self-conscious of how large her tummy had become, and hushed him gently.
I bring it up because for the past two months, I’ve been battling a painful miscarriage. The cells that could have been a baby multiplied so quickly, bursting with potential, ready to form a heart and a brain and fat legs that pump in surprise and joy during bathtime. But the cells grew in the wrong place. No room to grow—no space. No support from their mother’s body. Cells stopped multiplying and started surviving. Now they’re not even doing that anymore. My tummy isn’t quite empty, but it will be very soon.
So I’ve been thinking a lot about empty tummies. So many people hunger for something—food, in many cases. Safety. Freedom. Health. Acceptance and love. Kindness. Truth. Purpose. A family. Nearly everyone has an empty tummy in one way or another.
And as I’ve wrestled with my grief, with exhaustion and pain and fear, and with the loss of our baby, I’ve remembered that the only thing I know of that can heal an empty tummy—not just a band-aid solution or momentary comfort, but real, lasting healing—is the empty tomb.
Mary Magdalene wept at the empty tomb. The sight of all of that empty, echoing space must have wracked her heart with fear. Gone. Empty. The person she loved most, the thing she most hoped for, vanished, stolen, gone. The empty tomb was, for Mary, the most agonizing empty tummy of her life.
Until Mary learned why the tomb was empty. Joy replaced grief and, at last, fulness filled the empty spaces.
Pain is senseless and beyond purpose unless we remember the Son of God. Otherwise, life would be full of little pleasures but, for many, unbearable grief, and then it would be over, and we would have suffered only to continue suffering. Forever short of our potential. Forever broken. But with Jesus, the suffering can be turned into purpose, growth, achievement, victory. Because of Jesus, all empty tummies will become full.
My empty tummy has taught me to love the empty tomb. I don’t have words for the grief of these last two months, but there are also no words for the joy I feel when I think about the moment He left the tomb—left it empty because “He hath filled the hungry with good things” (Luke 1:53).
My tummy will be empty for a while, but because of Him, my hunger will end and I will, at last, be full.
Invitation: Ponder on how Christ has filled your emptiness. How can you turn to Him to help fill whatever emptiness you now feel?
Share your thoughts with the hashtag #myvoiceofgladness.
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