Sermon: "When Life Feels Empty" - March 23, 2025

When Life Feels Empty

Psalm 63:1-8, Luke 13:1-9

In the series “From Brokenness to Wholeness”

Have you ever felt like you were running on empty?

I'm not talking about being physically tired—though that certainly happens to all of us. I'm talking about that deeper kind of emptiness. The kind where you wake up, go through your day, check all the boxes, and still feel like something's missing. The kind where life becomes a routine without purpose.

I remember a conversation with a friend several few years ago. From the outside, his life looked perfect — successful career, beautiful home, loving family. The kind of life many people dream about. But sitting across from me at lunch one day, his voice dropped as she confided, "I should be happy. Everything in my life says I should be happy. But something's missing, and I don't even know what it is."

Maybe you've been there too. Maybe you've worked hard to build the life you thought would fulfill you, yet there's still this ache you can't explain. We live in a world that constantly tells us if we just achieve more, do more, or have more, we'll feel complete. But that's rarely the truth, is it?

Today, I want to explore what happens when life feels empty, and how the wisdom in our scriptures offers us a different path to fulfillment—not through what we achieve, but through abiding in something greater than ourselves – from abiding in God’s presence.

Our first reading today comes from Psalm 63, written by David while he was literally in the wilderness. He wasn't on some spiritual retreat or peaceful nature walk. He was running for his life, fleeing from his own son who was trying to overthrow him. He had lost his kingdom, his power, his security—everything he had built.

But listen to what he writes: "O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water."

David wasn't just physically thirsty in that desert—he was spiritually parched. Everything tangible in his life was crumbling around him. Yet in that emptiness, he discovered something profound: the only thing that could truly sustain him wasn't his crown or his accomplishments—it was his connection with God.

Rather than falling into despair, David makes this incredible statement: "Your steadfast love is better than life itself." Think about that. Better than life itself. Better than success, better than comfort, better than security.

And instead of giving up, he says, "My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me."

What David teaches us in this psalm is critical for our own lives: fulfillment doesn't come from our circumstances—it comes from connection with something deeper. Real satisfaction comes from staying connected to God. Even in our personal wildernesses—whether that's losing a job, facing illness, or just feeling lost—we're not abandoned. We're still held, still sustained, still valued.

Now let's turn to Jesus' parable in Luke 13. Jesus tells a story about a fig tree that hasn't produced fruit for three years. The owner is understandably frustrated. He says to the gardener, "Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?"

But the gardener responds with a different perspective: "Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down."

This isn't just a gardening tip—it's a story about grace.

The tree wasn't producing. By all measurable standards, it was failing at its one job: to bear fruit. But the gardener saw something the owner didn't. He saw potential. He said, "Let me tend to it. Let me nourish it. Give it time."

How many of us feel like that fig tree sometimes? We work hard, but don't see results. We strive, but still feel unfulfilled. We look at our lives and wonder if we're really making any difference at all. We feel like we're just taking up space rather than truly thriving.

But here's the beautiful truth: God sees us differently. God doesn't want to cut you down—God wants to nourish you. Your life is meant to bear fruit—but that doesn't happen overnight, and it doesn't happen without care and connection.

Let me share a modern example of this truth. At the 2020 Olympics, gymnast Simone Biles was expected to dominate. She had trained for years, was in peak physical condition, and had the support of millions of fans worldwide.

But something happened. During warm-ups, she experienced what gymnasts call "the twisties"—she lost her sense of where she was in mid-air. For a gymnast, that's not just disappointing; it's dangerous. It could lead to serious injury.

Simone made the shocking decision to step away from several competitions—not because she physically couldn't compete, but because she knew something was off inside. Something wasn't right.

People criticized her. Some called her a quitter. But later she explained: "I realized that all the medals in the world wouldn't mean anything if I wasn't taking care of myself."

What does this teach us? Sometimes, we keep pushing forward when what we really need is to step back and allow ourselves to be renewed. Success, recognition, or achievement will never fill us if we aren't whole inside. All the external fruit in the world can't compensate for an internal emptiness.

I think of pastor Wayne Cordeiro's story too. He spent years building a thriving church, leading thousands, preaching weekly, pouring himself into ministry. By all external measures, he was successful. But then he hit a wall—physically exhausted, emotionally drained, spiritually empty.

He later reflected, "I was doing so much for God that I forgot to do life with God."

He had to step back, rest, and rediscover how to abide in God's presence, rather than just work for God. He had to learn again what it meant to be nourished before he could nourish others.

These stories remind us that burnout happens when we give without being filled. We can't continually pour ourselves out without also being replenished. God calls us to abide, to remain connected to the source, not just work harder.

So, what does this mean for us, practically speaking? If you're feeling empty today, if you're that fig tree that hasn't seen fruit in a while, or if you're running through the desert like David, how do you find renewal? Let me suggest five simple steps:

First, create a daily space for God. Find just 10 minutes each day to be still—whether in prayer, reflection, or simply in silence. The more time we spend connected to the source of life, the more we are filled.

Second, do a spiritual check-in. Regularly ask yourself: "Am I feeling nourished, or am I just running on habit?" Awareness helps us recognize when we need renewal before we hit complete burnout.

Third, cut out one life-draining habit. Identify something that consistently depletes your energy—maybe it's too much social media, or overcommitment, or surrounding yourself with negativity—and replace it with something that feeds your soul.

Fourth, connect with a life-giving community. Surround yourself with people who encourage your growth and challenge you to become your best self. Real growth happens in relationships, not in isolation.

Finally, do one small thing for someone else. Reach out to someone who is struggling—send a note, make a call, offer kindness without expecting anything in return. There's a wisdom that says, "When we refresh others, we ourselves are refreshed."

If you feel empty today, if you feel weary or fruitless, I want you to hear this clearly: you are not forgotten. You are not a failure. The gardener has not given up on you.

Just as the fig tree was given special care and another chance, just as David found strength even in the wilderness, you too are being tended to, nurtured, and prepared for renewal.

The emptiness you feel isn't the end of your story—it might just be the beginning of a deeper connection, a more authentic life, and the kind of fulfillment that doesn't depend on your circumstances or achievements.

So today, let's choose to abide in the presence that fills our emptiness. Let's allow ourselves to be nourished. And from that place of fullness, perhaps we'll find ourselves bearing fruit we never thought possible.

Amen. 

Let’s pray: "God of renewal, meet us in our thirst. Dig deep into the soil of our hearts. Nourish us with your love, so that we may bear fruit and reflect your grace in the world. Amen."