Hollowed Out, But Holy


katie mosley -hollowed out but holy2By Katie Mosley | Instagram: @katiedmosley

I sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, ratty college Bible in hand. A white coat hung on the back of door like a reminder we both wanted to forget. I poured over verse after verse, speaking them out loud, trying to sear the truth into my husband’s brain. In this frantic season he has no energy or strength to open the Word, so I do it for him.

A few months ago, my husband started a pediatrics residency at one of the best hospitals in the world. We should be thriving, right? He worked hard and here we are—standing amongst the best. So, where’s the fullness? Where’s the joy? Why isn’t everything falling into place? I wanted to be able to say, “We’re fine—starting to feel settled and learning our routine. Everything’s great.”

Instead I felt like screaming, “We’re already tired and empty. We’re hollowed out. Three more years of this?” Each day he goes to the hospital that chews him up and spits him back out to me. I pick up the pieces, turn him around, and send him back to be hollowed out again.

Have you been there? Hollowed? I have literally face planted into my pillow to silence screams because my undone heart sat empty. Somehow the hollowness feels heavy, like the weight of the world on our shoulders, but when we pause to actually look inside, nothing is there. How do we fill this hollow heart?

In my own fallow seasons, dear friends stood beside me to plant the holy seeds. They knew I couldn’t muster up the strength to start digging through my dirt, so they prayed for me and read scripture out loud to me. They put their arms around my shoulders, held me up, and carried me. They were not too proud or busy to take me in front of Christ.

Some days, I find myself on the bathroom floor reading scripture while my husband gets ready for work, trying to sow holy seeds into him like my friends once did for me. I read him “bathroom floor Truth” because we passed rock bottom a long time ago. The only place after rock bottom is the bathroom floor.

Consider the men in Luke 5, who lowered their paralyzed friend through a roof so he could have an audience with the holy.

“Some men took a man who was not able to move his body to Jesus. He was carried on a bed. They looked for a way to take the man into the house where Jesus was. But they could not find a way to take him in because of so many people. They made a hole in the roof over where Jesus stood. Then they let the bed with the sick man on it down before Jesus.” Luke 5: 18-19

I am amazed by the faith of these friends. After all, this is what Christ says heals the man in the end.

“When Jesus saw their faith, he said, ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven.’” —Luke 5:20

They looked for a door to the holy. When they could not find a door, they found a roof. For our paralyzed and hollowed out friends, we need to be women who find the way in and plant the holy seed. God can use anything —a roof, a bathroom floor. While we may not be able to drop our loved ones in front of Christ’s physical body, we have the sword to fight the present darkness. In Ephesians 6, Paul says the sword of the Spirit is the word of God and we must pray at all times to persevere.

In this season, I feel like a sower, a server, a carrier. I feel like the friends, dropping the weak in front of the holy. My husband is so tired, but when we make it through this season there will be so much to celebrate. I consider the friends of the paralyzed man. Did they know they needed Christ just as much as the paralyzed man they brought forth? Do I know I also desperately need Christ when I read scripture to my husband from the bathroom floor?

The Holy Spirit’s voice has continued to sober me these past few months. It doesn’t matter why or how we walk into the presence of the holy, it just matters that we get there. I need the eternal too. I need to see the fruits of faith manifested in both of our lives. Whether reading scripture on the bathroom floor or hollowed out by the white coat, it’s all the same holy presence. We’re all the same too—hollowed out and human. I can’t be too proud to bring my husband to God and not also bring myself. Only one person can fill the paralyzed man and the carrying friend. It’s someone holy. Today, my husband and I are wholly-filledholy filled—right on the bathroom floor.


Katie Mosley
Katie Mosley lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her husband, Luke. She’s a home cook, photographer, and avid yogi, learning about gratefulness in the ordinary and mundane. You can read her blog, ourcitytable.com, and follow her on Instagram at @katiedmosley.