Christmas is over. The house is quiet. Sheets and towels softly tumble in the dryer. The dishwasher is swooshing almost unnoticeably. Our kids and their spouses went back home. Everything moves quickly past. Even the garbage was picked up this morning. The disposable dessert plates and shreds of wrapping paper disappeared into the green mouth of the truck.
I sit at the dining room table. The only light comes from the Christmas tree in the living room and a lit candle next to me. I saved it for tonight, to remember why we do what we do. All year, the flat, twisted candle stayed tucked in a drawer. In August, I saw it when I looked for a birthday banner and in October again when I searched for the table runner with the leaves.
Tonight, after we ate the left-overs and cleaned the kitchen, I pulled it out and lit this “Dancing Angel”.
The flame looks like the head of a brilliant messenger. The heat of the flicker twists the paraffin on both sides, contorts the candle to take on different shapes. Like arms of a moving creature, the wax stands up and then folds. As if the candle is mesmerized by an unheard song, it performs a dance. The fire consumes, yet beauty is revealed – slowly.
Light has come.
His flame consumes,
Melts all who desire Him
The Willing heart
The Contrite heart
Only in the heat of surrender
In the desire
To be used.
To be used up.
To be used up entirely.
Becomes His Light
The Light of His Glory
“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.
If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth.
But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.”
1 John 1:5-7