Space.

There’s a word that reveals a lot: space

Sometimes space feels chosen.

The quiet moments, intentional rest, a pause to breathe.

Other times it feels imposed, like distance in relationships, unanswered questions, or rooms in the heart that suddenly feel larger than we want.

We can often fear empty space and rush to fill it with noise, activity, distraction, or even people. 

This may be a me thing, but empty space can feel like something is missing.

 But Scripture tells a different story.

Before creation was filled with life, there was space.

Darkness. Void. Silence.

And it was there that God moved.

Not angrily. Not hurriedly. But creatively.

The Spirit hovered over the waters, and from space came life.

Maybe the empty places in us are not problems to solve but invitations to receive.

Jesus Himself understood space.

He stepped away from the crowds to pray. He made room for silence before He spoke. He sat at tables and listened before He taught. Even on the cross, in the moment that looks like abandonment, He was creating space for us to come home to the Father.

God’s love doesn’t invade; it invites.

And sometimes He leads us into wilderness places not to punish us, but to speak tenderly to our hearts. The places we call empty might actually be the spaces where He wants to draw near.

There are different kinds of space in the heart.

Some spaces are empty, places where something ended, where expectations weren’t met, where longing remains. We often want to rush past these places. But emptiness can become holy ground when we let God sit with us there.

Some spaces are filled, but filled with things that were never meant to carry the weight of our identity. 

You name yours and I’ll name mine

Achievement, approval, distraction, or the need to be enough for someone else. God doesn’t shame us for these things; He gently asks if we’ll let Him rearrange the furniture of our hearts.

And then there is the sacred work of making room.

Making room means saying: 

God, You can have the parts of me I keep guarded.

You can enter my fears, my desires, my questions.

You can be present even where I don’t feel ready.

The invitation of Jesus is not merely to behave better but to abide, to let Him dwell within us.

When we make space for God’s love first, something shifts. 

We stop asking people to fill what only He can hold. 

We begin loving from fullness rather than from hunger.

And slowly, space that once felt lonely becomes inhabited.

Maybe today the prayer isn’t complicated.

Maybe it’s simply:

“Lord, have Your way in the spaces I avoid.

Fill what should be filled.

Empty what should be emptied.

Teach me to make room for You.”

Because the truth is this:

God is not afraid of your empty spaces.

He has always been the One who turns space into His sanctuary.