Sixteen candles

Faith seems to be a fickle thing. There's really no rhyme or reason to it. I have faith that the people I love will love me back just as much. I have faith that I can grow the plants sitting in my window. I have faith that I won't get sick. Yet, in some of these cases I know I will be let down.

I will eventually get sick. Last week a few people weren't feeling well, and today two people were coughing behind me. They didn't sound well, so I do my best, but I might get sick. I try to grow plants, but sometimes I don't water them like I should. I know the weather is getting colder, and I should probably move them, but I don't know what the decreased sunlight will do to them, so they stay where they are. (note to self - check moisture levels in soil when done with thought stream.)

Now love of others. *sigh* The two things listed above, I know I'll get over it if the worst should come to pass. I'll get better, and I can always get a new plant. What do I do about the love of others though? Each person is so individual and irreplaceable. This is where faith gets stubborn. I'm sure I'm not unlike most people that I have been hurt under the guise of love and affection. As much as I would like to pretend, my pain is not unique and I am not a gilded martyr in love. I want to throw my hands in the air and say, "forget it. You win. I'm done with this game." Then something strange happens - I go out and do it all over again. Why would I do that to myself?

Because love is not a game. There isn't one winner and a host of losers. There is no end point. I'm not really convinced there is a beginning point either. Love is like those horrible relighting birthday candles. I can huff and puff in frustration, but after a moment it will flicker and rekindle. Faith that things will be better is that flicker. It needs nothing else to ignite. There is nothing I can do to help it along except to have it. Faith does the rest of the work, and off I go to put love back in to the world... even around (and with) those who have hurt me in the past. I know all too well I might be hurt again, but faith will be there to rekindle the flame when I want to put it out.

This is how I'm coming to understand my faith in God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. All three of them work to rekindle a passion in me (the flame) when I want to put it out. The funny thing is, I don't even have to have faith in them for them to work within me. Yes, read that again. One does not need to believe in God for God to work within the person. For Methodists (and any other Wesleyans) this is Prevenient Grace. One could keep blowing out that flame, but without anything we do, God will spark and the flame will reignite. Now, it's up to us to do something with that flame. We can light another candle (even though they have the spark within them). We can join with other candles to increase the illumination. We can box it in and never let the light out. There are infinite responses to the illumination of the candle, but the point is - we must respond in some way to it. Even if it is plucked and dropped in water, God will ignite the flame. There is nothing we can do to earn that flame.

So, I go out to love another day. People annoy me. Taxi cabs annoy me. Drivers of the 57 bus really annoy me. A host of things annoy me, but they cannot take away my desire to love and be loved in return. I know that somewhere along the way, my candle will meet with another candle responding in the same way. Until then, I will try to be an example for other candles who don't know they have a flame that needs and desires a response. And that's why I can't let love die. Not because I'm the pinnacle of love, but because I'm always being ignited and there's no way for me to ignore it anymore.

security blankets

I am told time and time again that it's important to let go of the baggage that weighs us down. Christians follow-up with "give it to God." However, I'm still trying to learn the art of how to let go of things I know are unimportant.

Sometimes I feel like a child who clings to a blanket. I have taken that blanket everywhere with me, and now it's dirty and starting to smell. It needs to be washed, however I can't seem to part with it for that short amount of time. My fingers clutch around it as it tried to be removed from me. Just why do I cling to it knowing it's not right for me?

Like a child, I probably like the comfort and security. If someone attacks (or accuses) me of faults, I will have faults of theirs with which to counter. Holding on to pain is my ammunition. I carry the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with with me - all the while hoping that I don't hurt myself first with their poison tips.

I don't yet have an answer about how to let go. I have to pick a topic to write about this semester for one of my classes, so I think I'll take up the topic of forgiveness and look at it theologically. More on this topic to come in the future...

I just want...

I attended a baptism today in the muggy Boston weather. It seems the baby was the only one not affected by the humidity. She was looking at everyone in the room and treating them to a smile. She had everything she needed at that moment, and she didn't desire anything else.

So I got to thinking - why do we use the phrase, "I just want (insert object here)?" Whose desires are being placed first in that statement? During the baptism, there was much talk about putting all our faith in God and resting on Him. By asking this question I think we take something away from our relationship from Him. Here are some questions and answers I thought about while riding the "wonderful" 57 bus home.

"I just want to find a job. Is that too much to ask?"
"I just want you to learn the value of things that are not material."

"I just want to be in a relationship. I want to feel love"
"I just want you to love yourself first for I love you already. Don't you know that I am love?"

"I just want to pass this test."
"I just want you to grow closer to me through My written word."

"I just want a nap. I'm so exhausted."
"I just want you to fill yourself with things that nourish you and not those things which tide you over."

There are so many "I just want..." things that could go here. I think each one of them could have a counter argument by God, but in His statement He would want something better for us. In your statement,the individual is asking for something for the self. It's no wonder "do onto others as you would have them do to you" seems to breakdown at times. I'll have to ponder this one some more...