I was only allowed to gently dust them, and then return each to its yellow ring imprinted on the white spot they belonged to for many years. I’d line them up with perfection, as if at a beauty pageant. Some took pride in their intricacy, while others in their simplicity.
Different in color, stature, fragrance, and shape were mother’s candle collection.
The post-communist era offered many tempting opportunities for father so say ‘Grab a candle. Here’s the match.’ To which mother would protect her collection so new to a Soviet “Honey, let’s get the kerosene lamp out again.”
Mother’s assembly of waxed beauties shared one commonality, their wick had never set foot on fire. They were pretty to look at. But that was it.
Jesus started the trend of comparing His followers to a lit up object.
“John was a lamp that burned and gave light, and you were willing for a season to bask in his light.” John 5:35
*Quite a catchy rhythm. Easy to memorize.
A lamp is a movable object. It’s flexible to where the Master needs it placed to expose the dark. Some are a perfect fit for the barn, and others for the house. Both, just as important to the Master.
A lamp is limited. It can’t light up the whole world at once. So, for the perfectionists out there, don’t be hard on yourself because you can’t be everything to everyone. We are meant to make a difference, one tiny flicker at a time. Faithfulness in those little things, it’s all He requires. (Matthew 25:21)
A lamp light is measurable. Its luminosity is calculated in comparison to that of the sun, not other candles. (Just like one hundred pianos are tuned to the tuning fork and not to each other as A. W. Tozer suggests.) For a true evaluation, I can only measure myself to the Son, not to those around me. Because Jesus says “I am the light of the world.”
A lamp is set on fire. That’s why each candle is equipped deep down with a wick eager to burn. Just like my phone battery easily loses its juice, so do many Christians. And we slide into our comfortable life.
Here’s what I keep in my match box to rekindle my fire:
- An in-depth study of the Bible; not a novel-reading of it.
- Living and sharing with intentionality. That includes my kids.
- Reading powerful biographies like Rifqa, Brother Andrew, Tortured For Christ, Taming The Tiger.
- Prayer. Prayers of the heart, and not of the habit.
- Not missing church, even if lack of commitment to it is so trendy. Hebrews 10:25
My dad fell in love with Jesus soon after his serving in the Red Army. He chose not to flee communism in Canada or America, but instead daily scurried the streets of Moldova to evangelize. The easiest way to put a crowd together, when funerals were not available (always convenient for evangelism; communists had tears too) was to hook up their black-box speaker to the closest electric outlet. Then, he’d let Slavic fold and unfold that raggedy accordion to a melancholic song, the native language of the Soviets. After the crowd would reach its potential, father would start sharing that same message Billy Graham did all his life “Jesus loves you. Repent. “
One evening, after my father was done preaching (and being done is terribly difficult for a preacher) a man came forward and said “Sir, you spoke with such gusto as if you actually believe it!”
“I do. I believe it.” The fireball preacher answered… “I believe it.”
How many of talk about Jesus as if we actually believe in Him? Or do we line up in churches on Sunday mornings just like mother’s candle collection at the Beauty Pageant? Not on fire. Not exposing the dark. Not bright at all. Just a wax museum.