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.